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The U.S. Open's dean of obscurity By Darren Rovell ESPN.com NEW YORK -- When Monica Seles steps onto the court at Arthur Ashe Stadium Wednesday night, she'll acknowledge Gary Spitz, as she always does. She might wink or nod, or perhaps even say "hi." She recognizes the 37-year-old attorney from Long Island because he's worked most of her U.S. Open matches. Spitz is the tournament's most glorified ballperson, back in Flushing Meadows again this year for his 22nd U.S. Open. The 5-foot-8 Spitz made his debut as a 16-year-old in 1980, making him the dean of ballpersons. He remembers how he almost didn't make it out of his first tournament.
"I honestly don't know what happened to that kid," he said. Spitz, who honed his throwing skills by playing stickball as a kid in Brooklyn, could be inducted into the Ballperson Hall of Fame, if there was one. He served with brothers Patrick and Mark McEnroe as ballboys in the early '80s. He returned every year throughout his days in college and law school. And he was on the court for a memorable five-setter between Jimmy Connors and Aaron Krickstein in 1991. Since the 1998 U.S. Open, he even has umpired open qualifying rounds in addition to junior and senior matches. "You get a stadium that's packed on a gorgeous day or night and there's 15,000 people in the stands and you're right there," Spitz said. "It's exhilarating and definitely a rush." For all the highlights, there also have been bad moments. Like the time Spitz witnessed a fellow ballboy crawl off the court after receiving a blistering one-bounce serve in the groin from Roscoe Tanner, tennis' hardest server during the early '80s. Or the time when he had hands wide open ready to receive an incoming ball, which somehow landed on the head of an angry Martina Navratilova. "Ballpeople also used to open the can of balls," Spitz said. "One guy cut himself on the metal lid and actually bled onto the ball. He threw the ball to the player, who happened to be John McEnroe. McEnroe saw the blood and said, 'What's this?' and he tells the kid to get off the court and go take care of himself." If there's one major change over the years, it's the talent. "There's definitely been a decline in the quality of the ballpeople's arms," Spitz said. That's because, two decades ago, Spitz said the focus of youth sports centered around baseball. Now there's more kids playing basketball, soccer and golf. The U.S. Open is the only Grand Slam where ballpeople throw the ball across the court. At Wimbledon and the French and Australian Opens, tradition dictates that they be rolled. While a good ballperson is not supposed to stand out, Spitz's many appearances on television over the years have disproved that notion. "Every now and then, I'm in jeans, rather than being in my shorts and T-shirt, and someone at a (New York) Rangers game is saying, 'I know this is going to sound weird, but are you a ballperson at the Open?' " said Spitz, who works in the claims and investigations bureau in the Nassau County attorney's office during the 49-week offseason, budgeting three weeks of vacation time. As the senior member on the court, Spitz chooses his spot before each match. It is always the same: In the near corner to the left of the chair umpire -- or as Spitz calls it, "TV Corner 1." But the most important recognition for Spitz are the compliments handed down by his superiors. "He loves tennis, he knows what our expectations are and we truly value his skills and opinions," said Tina Taps, the director charged with coordinating ballpersons for the U.S. Open. He certainly doesn't do it for the money. From 1980 to 1993, Spitz, like most ballpeople, earned an hourly minimum wage. Since then, he has earned slightly more than the ballperson's rate of $7.75 per hour because he is also involved in rating the talent of the young ballpeople. Last year, Spitz said he worked about 200 hours during the tournament and made about $1,600 after taxes. When the tournament is over, the shirts and shorts are retired and put in boxes at his parent's house in Valley Stream, N.Y. They are stored away next to the boxes of tournament attire from U.S. Opens gone by. "When I first started, if you were to tell me I would be here 22 years later, I would have told you, 'You're crazy,' " Spitz said. "But as long as I continue to have fun, I'll keep doing it." Darren Rovell is a staff writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at darren.rovell@espn.com. Send this story to a friend | Most sent stories |
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