Serendipity and High Spirits: Scenes From the 2019 US Open

First, credit where credit is due: Yes, Wimbledon has history and tradition on its side, along with sublime grass courts, Pimm’s Cups, and strawberries and cream. The French Open has its vaunted red clay and a Parisian backdrop, and comes loaded with all the promise of a Mediterranean summer. But the US Open—at least since moving from the grass of Forest Hills to the hard courts of Flushing Meadows, Queens, in 1978—exists in its own realm. Obviously, it brings the tennis—but thanks to its passionate (and, yeah, sometimes raucous) fans, it brings a few other things with it as well: Attitude. Energy. Dedication and devotion. The promise of a day in the sun (and a night under the lights) watching the best players in the world go at each other with a spirited, sportsmanlike intensity.

It’s that particular New York City–centric kind of multivalence that Timothy Sean O’Connell’s photographs capture. Sure, there’s the high drama of Arthur Ashe Stadium—from world number one Naomi Osaka (who remained poised and positive through dramatic victories and a surprising early loss) to world legend Serena Williams (who will play Bianca Andreescu for what could perhaps be a record-tying 24th Grand Slam victory on Saturday).

But that’s just the main-court action—and as everyone who’s spent time out at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center knows, it’s often a surprising early-round match on one of the smaller satellite courts, or the chance discovery of a favorite pro going through their warm-ups, that serves up the memory of a lifetime. “The best way to experience the event is to wander aimlessly,” says O’Connell, who quickly developed an emotional connection to the players he was shooting. “They felt much closer to me—you get to see professional athletes on a more eye-to-eye, human level.”

From the ballpersons going about the swift completion of their appointed rounds to the throngs of young fans lined up in hopes of capturing autographs and selfies, O’Connell constructs the sort of gorgeous mosaic that makes tennis’s final Grand Slam the capstone of a summer, a season—and a feeling.