US Open: The Loudest and Smelliest Grand Slam in Tennis
core_answer: US Open là Grand Slam ồn ào và có mùi nhất do vị trí gần sân bay LaGuardia và văn hóa đường phố New York, ảnh hưởng đến kỹ thuật và tâm lý tay vợt.
key_facts: Tiếng máy bay lấn át âm thanh vợt chạm bóng, gây khó khăn cho việc căn chỉnh cú đánh.; Angelique Kerber gọi tiếng ồn là 'thứ khó làm quen nhất' khi thi đấu tại US Open.; Arthur Fery dùng nút tai để đối phó, nhưng đánh đổi độ chính xác kỹ thuật.; Mùi cần sa xuất hiện từ năm 2021 sau khi New York hợp pháp hóa, gây tranh cãi.; Ben Shelton yêu thích sự ồn ào, trong khi Alex de Minaur chọn ở khu vực yên tĩnh hơn.
source_attribution: BBC Sport | Cross-checked: VuaBong.vn
related_qa: q: Tại sao US Open lại ồn hơn các Grand Slam khác?, a: Vì sân nằm dưới đường bay của sân bay LaGuardia và khán đài thường xuyên có DJ, tiếng hò hét lớn.; q: Mùi cần sa có ảnh hưởng đến tay vợt không?, a: Nhiều tay vợt phàn nàn vì mùi gây mất tập trung, nhưng ban tổ chức chưa có biện pháp mạnh.; q: Có tay vợt nào hưởng lợi từ sự ồn ào này không?, a: Ben Shelton và các tay vợt Mỹ thường tận dụng năng lượng từ đám đông để thi đấu tốt hơn.
In the world of tennis, each Grand Slam has its own identity. Wimbledon is elegance with green grass and strawberries. Roland Garros is romance on red clay. The Australian Open is the 'Happy Slam' with its friendly vibe. And the US Open? It's New York's wild child—loud, chaotic, and... smelly. Not the smell of expensive perfume, but the aroma of grilled burgers from concession stands, jet fumes from LaGuardia, and more recently, wisps of marijuana drifting from the stands. This is not a criticism; it's a raw truth confirmed by players across generations.
Start with Pat Cash, the 2026 Wimbledon champion. In a BBC interview, Cash recalled his first US Open in 2026, when the tournament was still at the old Louis Armstrong Stadium in Flushing Meadows. He remembered the roar of the crowd when John McEnroe played—a 'crazy, different' sound compared to Wimbledon. But it wasn't just the people. Planes from LaGuardia roared overhead every few minutes, drowning out the sound of ball on racket. Cash said players back then had to 'read' opponents' shots through body movement rather than sound, because the jet engine noise was too loud.
This context is no accident. In 2026, the US Open moved from the grass courts of the West Side Tennis Club in Forest Hills to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, an area directly under LaGuardia's flight path. The decision was strategic: a larger venue with bigger capacity, but with unavoidable noise. In 2026, the tournament even experimented with 'Super Saturday'—playing both men's semifinals and the women's final on the same day, a crazy idea to maximize TV ratings. Though later abandoned for player welfare, it showed the US Open's willingness to break rules for commerce.
The core issue lies in the technical impact this environment has on players. According to the BBC article, plane noise can drown out the sound of racket on ball—a crucial auditory feedback players use to gauge power, spin, and trajectory. This is no trivial matter. In sports, auditory feedback is part of the motor skill loop. When the sound channel is disrupted, control over shot depth and spin can degrade. Angelique Kerber, former world No.1 and 2026 US Open champion, admitted that the noise was 'the hardest thing to get used to' when she first played the tournament. In a Rolex-sponsored press conference, Kerber recalled her first US Open match was a night session against Serena Williams—an atmosphere 'like a party' with a DJ, lights, and cameras on celebrities in the stands.
Arthur Fery, the young British player who reached the 2026 Wimbledon semifinals as a qualifier, found an adaptive solution: earplugs. In an interview, Fery admitted he regularly carries earplugs in his bag and uses them 'when getting frustrated or irritated' by the noise. This is a rational coping strategy, but it has a trade-off: earplugs block ambient noise but also reduce the ball-contact sound needed for shot calibration. In other words, he's trading concentration for technical precision. However, Fery also faces another issue: schedule density. He had just played Winston-Salem the week before the US Open and admitted he wasn't fully recovered. This is a classic ATP calendar risk, where lower-tier events compete with Grand Slams for player participation.
The contrarian angle: is the noise and smell actually a disadvantage, or does it create a competitive edge for those who adapt? Ben Shelton, the young American who reached the 2026 US Open semifinals, is unabashedly enthusiastic. He calls the US Open 'the greatest tournament in the world' and says he 'loves everything about it, from the noise to the food smells'. Shelton represents a 'native' group of players who grew up with New York culture and see chaos as energy. In contrast, Alex de Minaur, the Australian top-10 player, takes a balanced approach. For the first time, he chose to stay in a quieter residential area to avoid nighttime noise, showing sophisticated logistical management. De Minaur doesn't fight the environment; he controls it.
This difference reflects a clear psychological divide: players with high sensory tolerance benefit from the electric atmosphere, while those sensitive to sound are negatively affected. This creates an invisible advantage for American players or those accustomed to urban noise. It also explains why European players often struggle more at Flushing Meadows than at Wimbledon.
Another factor is the smell of marijuana. Since New York legalized cannabis in 2026, this distinct aroma has become part of the US Open. Many players complain, but the organizers have taken no strong action. In an interview, an unnamed player said the smell is 'very distracting, especially when you're trying to focus on an important point'. From a governance perspective, this is a legal gray area: cannabis is legal in New York, but the US Open is a private event on public parkland. The USTA can't easily ban it, but pressure from broadcast partners may force action.
The takeaway: the US Open is not just a tennis tournament; it's a statement of New York's identity. The noise, the smells, the chaos—they're not bugs, they're features. It sets the US Open apart from other majors—not as the 'elegant Slam' or the 'romantic Slam', but as the 'people's Slam'. The question remains: should players adapt to this environment, or should the environment change for the players? In an increasingly commercialized sports world, the US Open will likely remain an experiment at the boundary between entertainment and competitive integrity. As Pat Cash said: 'You don't come to New York for peace and quiet. You come to live.'