COLUMN: AÂ world where there is no politics, and sport is glorified.
FLUSHING MEADOWS, NEW YORK: What comes to your mind when you hear the rather delicious-sounding words ‘Honey Deuce’? Perhaps some tennis aficionados might immediately think of the time they played with their irate-mannered spouse or partner, could see the return serve landing a foot wide off the baseline – with the score critically poised at 30-40 – but with good intentions to be amiable and keep domestic harmony, shout encouragingly ‘Honey, deuce.’
Or perhaps, even the not hard-of-hearing might be pardoned for hearing it as ‘Honey Dews’ and instantly conjure up visions of a new flavor by the Mountain Dew guys, or the donut by the same name, intimate garments, or for most, going by that conjecture, just plain honey dew melons.
But if you’re at the US Open Tennis Championship here, at Flushing Meadows, New York, Honey Deuce means one and only one thing: a vodka cocktail.
It’s hard to miss noticing Honey Deuce and the massive publicity for it, with the multiple Grey Goose stands getting prime spots, with a Jacob’s Creek wine bar tucked away in a corner, and a bar for the Moets & Chandon champagne waiting mostly for some players to throw a party. That is in case you miss seeing all those ‘Honey Deuce’ ads on giant screens inside the stadiums between games.
And just when you thought you are away from it all, with a nice buzz from those honey deuce(s) served up by the bartender – concocted by Nick Mautone, Master Mixologist for Grey Goose, to serve as the official cocktail of the 2007 US Open Tennis Championship (the recipe being: Grey Goose Vodka, fresh squeezed lemonade, Chambord raspberry liqueur, crushed ice and honeydew melon balls for garnish) – and heading back up the wooden walkway to the car parking or the Metro, across from Citifield, the home of the Mets, you see this giant banner like on a cloud dropped horizontally from the sky, with the intriguing words again’ Honey Deuce.’
And for those charming folks who wake up with a hangover from all those ‘Honey Deuces’, there is a remedy right on the walkway: free samples of the Italian coffee Lavazza. I don’t drink coffee, but it’s hard to move your hand away as packs of the samples are given away by Lavazza folks, and the name is intriguing…no, I’m not going to delve into the possibilities of how Lavazza sounds to you, but nobody in their right senses would miss the intonation of ‘love’ there loud and clear.
So, between the ‘honey deuce’ (I still like the idea of spouses playing tennis and generously donating points with that sweet clarion call of parity), the ravishing tennis with those mind-boggling volleys still emblazoned on your mind, and all that love and sex before having ‘lavazza’ in the mornings, or evenings, as your inclination might be, one could be forgiven for thinking that you are in a pristine country which has banished all politics, and especially marked it as a ‘Donald Trump free zone’.
No! Please don’t look up as you walk away from the US Open – there might be a remote chance of a Trump aircraft hovering above somewhere, desperate to land at the LaGuardia or JFK terminals.
The moment I thought of that, and just now – God forbid! even wrote it – the world became a little evil and foreboding for me. That honey deuce instantly became a strident holler of “Deuce, Honey!†And the voice that made that call belongs to Donald Trump, calling from the opposite side of the court, playing against Hillary Clinton, with the score inevitably poised at 30-40. Oh yes, Trump hit that ball a good two feet out.
A friend remarked to me the other day, as we watched a game of tennis at the US Open: “It’s amazing that New York City should have so many tennis stadiums here so close to the city and airport.†Well, he sure has a point.
But more importantly, the US Open tennis is one of the closest things to a grand global arena in New York City where politics can be safely banished from one’s mind, and one can revel in a multicultural world of sheer talent that converges every year on the city, from junior to adults, teenagers to men and women. And we are not talking of ice hockey arenas here.
The tennis fans all have only one thing in common: desire to excel, and when they play, they don’t look at the color of the skin of the player across the net. The spectators don’t either: they come to watch a fine sport, great sportspersons. They may see occasional bouts of anger and frustration on court, and even some foul words. But nobody thinks of racism and Trump in comparison. At least, not while you are still watching tennis. Those feelings come later once you start to watch TV again. Or read. Or just walk past Trump Towers. Or Trump Links. Somewhere.
Or that soon in the near future, if Trump comes to power, some players might not even be allowed to play at the courts here, if they come from countries which are on a list of people barred from getting visas. Or the fact that some players and countries will just boycott the US Open in protest.
This year’s US Open is slowly winding down. The presidential elections are coming up in less than two months.
Enjoy sports in a Trump-free world, as long as it lasts. Or perhaps, Hillary might want to shout back loud and clear from her side of the court: “OUTâ€.
(Sujeet Rajan is Editor-in-Chief, The American Bazaar. Follow him @SujeetRajan1).