The year is 2041 and you’ve successfully made it through security and onto the grounds of the USTA Liquid Death National Tennis Center. Myla Rose and Leo Federer are hitting on Practice Court 23 ahead of their first-round match in the US Open Mixed Doubles sponsored by Botoxxify, the tournament’s official neuromodulator partner. Jake Paul, the 50th president of the United States, is a few hours from attending opening night with first lady Jutta Leerdam-Paul and labor secretary Dana White. Venus Williams has just accepted a wildcard into the women’s singles draw. You’re thisclose to paying off last year’s Honey Deuces on Klarna.
Welcome to the Disneyland of tennis.
It’s been 15 years since Craig Tiley first used that shorthand before the 2026 US Open, barely a month after taking over as chief executive of the United States Tennis Association. Longtime Open-goers had already adopted it as gallows humor, muttering it between expletives on the outer courts during qualifying week, which for another few years was still free. That Tiley meant it aspirationally told you everything you needed to know about where New York’s annual late-summer orgy of sport, fashion and conspicuous consumption was headed.
Tiley’s grand vision was a future US Open with more entertainment, more extracurriculars and more “opportunities” for children and adults to experience things. At a tournament where the once-humble grounds pass already fetched hundreds of dollars on the resale market and chicken nuggets flecked with Petrossian caviar went for $100, the natural question was: more what?
We now know. Layers of access. Premium seating. Branded activations. An incremental, almost imperceptible erosion of value-for-money not seen in American life since the Airline Deregulation Act of 1978.
Prior to entry, guests are encouraged to download the US Open Experience app and select one of four admission tiers: Grounds Pass, Grounds Pass Plus, Grounds Pass Platinum and Grounds Pass Presented by FTX (they’re back now). Tennis is included with Platinum. Guests wishing to watch an actual match can purchase a FastPass to skip the regular queue for the escalator to the 300 level of Blackstone Court at Arthur Ashe Stadium. For an additional $85, the FastPass+ allows holders to briefly make eye contact with a player.
Fans in need of refreshment can relax at the Emirates Luxury Hydration Pavilion, where a bottle of water costs $31 but comes with a commemorative cap in the shape of a miniature Anna Wintour in sunglasses. Visit the Grey Goose Food Court for the Mega Honey Deuce, a 96-ounce vodka lemonade served in a souvenir fishbowl with six melon balls and one month of complimentary credit monitoring. Hungry? Viral foods are still mass produced as another layer of the fan experience. This year’s in-demand item is the $55 chopped cheese sandwich by Hajji’s Blue Sky Deli, now a Wonder property. (We’d suggest getting there early.) For healthier fare there’s an Erewhon located beneath Mamdani Grandstand in the space vacated by Lululemon after the company filed for bankruptcy during the Great Athleisure Correction of 2037. The merch stands nearby have been a Fanatics Experience™ for years now, so best to avoid machine-washing your $80 T-shirt.
All matches are best-of-three Fast4 sets now after market research found spectators preferred more digestible content windows. If watching a final-set tiebreak without a little skin in the game feels a little pointless, the tournament offers fans a range of immersive second-screen engagement opportunities, including wagering – er, predicting – on everything from the next game to whether a 19-year-old qualifier ranked 746th in the world will double-fault at 30-all. Tiley had been an early adopter here. During his stewardship of the Australian Open, it became the first grand slam to sign an official betting partner. William Hill’s courtside advertising survived one tournament before disappearing amid mounting scrutiny over match-fixing. All it needed was a more respectable veneer.
Back in 2026, the USTA announced Kalshi as the tournament’s first Official Prediction Market Partner, hailing the deal as an opportunity to “pioneer that next generation of fan engagement while ensuring the integrity of our sport” while spamming push-notifications plugging the partnership to anyone with the app already installed. By then, spectators could already be found around the grounds staring into their phones and checking on their markets with matches unfolding a few feet in front of them.
Here in 2041, the concept has been fully integrated into the fan experience. Every seat in Ashe comes equipped with a small Bloomberg terminal offering live markets on the match, while the chair umpire pauses briefly between points so spectators can lock in their positions. Players are still prohibited from partnering with betting companies, naturally. Tennis has standards.
For those who prefer a more traditional gaming experience, there’s good news: a five-minute walk just down the boardwalk past the No 7 subway station sits the brick-and-mortar Hard Rock casino and sportsbook, erected by compliance-challenged billionaire hedge-fund manager and New York Mets owner Steve Cohen, where your eight-match parlay can still go up in flames the old-fashioned way.
The main draw starts on Saturday now. Once upon a time, the first round took place over two days: 64 matches a day, a delirious noon-to-midnight blur of tennis across the grounds. In 2025 it expanded to three days with a Sunday start, but the shrinkflation proved irresistible for organizers. Any sticker shock and belly-aching over ticket prices ended decades ago, not long after the nonprofit USTA handed over its ticketing operation to Ticketmaster to extract whatever the market would bear on its behalf. Few milling about the grounds today can remember life before dynamic pricing or digital layaway.
The scruffy democratic charms of the old US Open belonged to the same vanishing New York as Aqueduct and Jimmy’s Corner, but there are still traces if you know where to look. The bullring-like Court 17 is still the best experience on site when you can get in. A grounds-pass holder on Court 5 can still watch three matches at once. A late-night doubles match on an outer court, where the influencers are mercifully scarce, can still feel like the most important thing happening in town. Fans lucky enough to secure one of the tournament’s 400 remaining non-premium seats on Ashe, a dodgy experience in its best days, can still make out a tennis match happening down there from above the encroaching ranks of hospitality suites and Chase Sapphire lounges.
Some have called it enshittification. The industry jargon is premiumization. The trendlines in the USTA’s own publicly disclosed finances call it growth. Tournament director Morgan Riddle insists the changes are about meeting fans where they are.
Of course, even in 2041, there’s nothing cringier than hating from outside the club. The US Open was a victim of its own runaway success and its 2020s transformation into a playground for the affluent and blithely bougie was hardly unique in American life. Across the country – from the Rose Bowl to Wrigley Field to Belmont Park – ordinary seats were being replaced by clubs, suites and hospitality areas because corporations and wealthy spectators would pay multiples of what the displaced customers could afford. Can you blame the USTA for recognizing its showcase event had become one of the most coveted tickets in US sports? Who wouldn’t empty the coffers to watch 37-year-old Coco Gauff go for one last trophy and ride off into the sunset? There is enormous demand, enormous money to be made from it and highly compensated executives whose job – among the less glamorous responsibilities of a nonprofit tasked with getting more kids to pick up a racquet – is to maximize that revenue.
Maybe Tiley was right all those years ago. Maybe the proper response was to embrace the growth, build the suites, sell the experiences and accept that the US Open belongs as much to the people who come once a year for the ring-light Honey Deuce selfie as the ordinary diehards who once spent qualifying week scouting the up-and-comers on the outer courts for free. Those of us who preferred the old place had our time.
But enough with the remember when. Your FastPass window for Court 17 opens in six minutes.
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