In the same way someone who attended
Yale might say they went to school in New Haven, tennis tournaments are often
referred to by their city or stadium's name. For example, the French Open is
called Roland Garros, the California hard court tournament is spoken of as
Indian Wells, and the US Open is Flushing Meadows. This practice emphasizes a
degree of exclusivity (pretentiousness?) wherein one must already be somewhat
in the know to follow the conversation.
Last week, I went to an Ed Sheeran
concert that was held at the Forest Hills Stadium. The 23,000 seater was
renovated in 2013 after a near twenty-year period of inactivity. The stadium is
nestled in a cute residential neighborhood in Queens. There is no parking lot
or structure. When you attend an event at the Forest Hills Stadium, you park in
front of someone’s home and do your best to read all of the signage and avoid
the private streets, for fear of being booted.
Forest Hills Stadium is where the US
Open was held from 1915-1920 and 1924-1977. Ten Davis Cup Finals took place at
Forest Hills. Billie Jean King, Vitas Gerulaitis, and Arthur Ashe are just a
few of the icons who played at the stadium. John McEnroe speaks at length about
the experience of playing at Forest Hills in his autobiography. For anyone with
an interest in tennis and its history, Forest Hills is a storied venue. It is
history incarnate. Forest Hills Stadium is now listed as a “concert venue” on
Facebook.
The West Side Tennis Club (the home
of the stadium) is still operational. It has 38 private courts and offers every
surface. Yet still, so iconic is the name "Forest Hills" that the
website for the club is simply foresthillstennis.com--it continues to command
historic relevancy and respect in the tennis world.
When Sheeran took the stage, it was
still light out. And from my side-stage, nosebleed seats, I could see two kids
rallying on the har-tru court right beyond the stadium. While I had a seat in
the stands, numerous fans opted for general admission tickets on the floor. The
floor was the court. The hard court, blue/green color scheme, was taking a
beating. I felt like I could see the court succumbing to the marking soles and
high heels pummeling the surface in real time.
I don't know if it was the total
disregard and unawareness of the crowd for this stadium's history or the
devastating image of a tennis court trampled by Brandy Melville wearing
teenagers trying to push to the front of the stage--but, there's no other way
to put it, my soul cringed. Is nothing sacred?
I suppose, in my mind, I had
imagined that before the opening act came on, someone from the ATP, WTA, or ITF
would show up to give a short lecture on the history of the stadium. Maybe he
or she would reel off the dates the Open was played here and pay homage to some
of the star athletes who made names for themselves on this very court! But it
was not the case.
I have to admit, the concert was
incredible and the venue was perfect. It was small enough to be intimate, but
large enough to feel that strange sense of oneness live music creates with the
rest of the audience. The stadium is, of course, open air and absolutely suited
for a last weekend of May, evening show. All but for my indignation at the
failure to properly historicize the stadium--the evening was a clean winner.
In its heyday, the Forest Hills
Stadium played host to many musical acts. Sinatra, The Beatles, Hendrix, and
The Who are among some of the acts that took the stage at Forest Hills. So the
sheer act of a musical group performing at a tennis stadium is not what irks
me. Rather, the repurposing of a tennis court as mere flooring is what I find
hard to swallow. It was an honor to perform at Forest Hills just as it is an
honor to sing the anthem at Yankee Stadium--because it's hallowed ground. The
stadium at Forest Hills has been reduced to a stage no better than one of the
hundreds of bank-sponsored stadiums. It's bad enough when a venue has no
history, but it's even worse when it's overflowing with an unacknowledged
story.
