In the northern part of Queens, N.Y., just east of LaGuardia Airport and the home of the Mets, is the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center.
On its grounds are rows of outdoor courts, which every year at summer's end host the 14-day U.S. Open, the world's highest attended annual sporting event. More than 700,000 people came and went this year, paying nine bucks for a hamburger while watching the world's best tennis players.
Roger Federer was, of course, unbelievable. So was Justine Henin, the women's champion. But on some days, it was also amazing what registered as important in Flushing Meadows -- like on, say, Sept. 1.
For the record, Maria Sharapova came first that day. The Open's No. 2 seed was upset in the third round by an 18-year-old newcomer a bit after 1 p.m. and well before Appalachian State's victory over Michigan could formally be hailed. Her loss was the day's most important news in tennisland -- in theory -- but once word of Appalachian State's lead caught on in the press room, the Russian was passé.
Rows and rows of closed-circuit TVs flashed, as most American reporters frantically toggled the channel buttons to catch a glimpse of the game. Of course, there was frustration when no one could locate the Big Ten Network broadcast. But finally, the room settled for GameTracker updates supplemented by informal verbal bulletins at crucial junctures.
The buzz over the final score couldn't have been what it was in the caverns underneath Beaver Stadium that day. But it certainly wasn't understated -- and in Queens, that day was supposed to be all about tennis.
I've lived in New York City for the past year since graduating from Penn State and have covered sports for one of the area's daily newspapers since May. In that time, I've come to understand that professional sports are the city's jam, with nine pro teams in the four major sports alone.
But on many days, like that Saturday at the U.S. Open, the sentimentalism of college sports can still reign supreme. Every time I cover a sports event, I hope to encounter that same resonation of relevance that seems to permanently reside in State College -- the feeling that you are always watching something profound being scripted, even when it's not.
I sense it in New York, sometimes. Like when Giants Stadium was stuffed for a Major League Soccer game because David Beckham was in town. Or when Roger Clemens made his re-debut in Yankee Stadium in June. Or last Sunday, when Federer fell to his knees after his fourth straight Open victory.
But in Happy Valley, the mood never seems to expire. Any football game played past sundown is always an event. Take the Purdue game in 2004, now a seemingly inconsequential loss in a 4-7 football season. In the last quarter, though, the lit-up stadium was in a Zombie Nation-induced fervor, trying to will a comeback victory.
And any season with the prospect of something big happening is a universal shot of energy to the whole town, not one fractured by cross-city rivalries. I think State College is still riding the sugar high of the 2005 season, two years later, and I think the campus is in a perpetual take-your-mark position, waiting for another reason to start to go crazy.
There hasn't been bad luck with the draw so far. It's obvious the status quo of college football has been undone so far this season (as a side note, remember how lackluster Penn State's opening win over South Florida in 2005 seemed at the time?). And two weeks into the season, the Nittany Lions have held steady, so that means they factor into Big Ten title talks.
Certainly, that was the intention of the leaders of the 2005 team, who not only marched their squad to Penn State's second conference championship in more than a decade, but also made it a point to leave behind a well-marked trail. As those seniors neared graduation, they spoke metaphorically of building a mansion, tricked out with a sweet sound system and a pool in the back, for all their younger "brothers."
For now, it is too soon to tell if the mansion has been maintained. How much does a win over Notre Dame prove? When will Penn State's first true test come? Those are questions better answered in retrospect.
Last Saturday, around 6 p.m., they were also the ones posed in the media room of the U.S. Open, just an hour before the women's singles final. I was the resident Penn State graduate, and I said I wasn't sure yet. But with many televisions tuned into the Notre Dame-Penn State broadcast, on one thing everyone agreed: boy, an entire crowd dressed in white sure was captivating. Imagine if every stadium could look like that.
Jenny Vrentas is a 2006 graduate of Penn State and a former football writer for The Daily Collegian. She currently is a sports writer for The Star-Ledger, based in Newark, N.J. Her e-mail address is jvrentas@starledger.com.
