U.S. Open Tennis National Playoffs, Oldest Player Ever? from Maryland!

Kent Watkins of Bethesda, Md., did not think he would win the sectional qualifying tournament being played at College Park the weekend of May 31-June 3, which could have ultimately resulted in a selection for a wild card entry at the U.S. Open Qualifying Tournament in late August at Flushing Meadows. After all, he was 77 years old. However, like those thousands of participants annually entered in the Boston, NYC, and other marathons, all of whom do not expect to win, he wanted to engage and participate rather than be a mere spectator in life. So, on a dare from his daughter, Heather, also an active match-play tennis player, he submitted his entry. The following is a simulated interview of this novel experience of probably being the oldest player ever to compete in a U.S. Open playoff.

What made you decide to enter?

A couple of years ago, I got on this legacy or bucket list kick. I decided to play tournaments again, after many years, and so I entered 19 of them in the 70 and 75 year bracket of USTA. I received 17 trophies or plaques for winner or runner-up, which was far above my expectation. I was ranked #1 in Maryland in the 75s and #2 in the Mid-Atlantic, and one or two rungs down in the 70s. I didn’t have time to practice, but used the tournaments as a ‘cheap’ way to get several good matches, new balls, and a free court. I had played for the College of William & Mary, but that was over 55 years ago, and later the Florida 'circuit' for junior veterans (over 35).

Anyway, my daughter may have mentioned the U.S. Open was really that, there was no age limit or any other barriers to play in any of the 13 sectional challenge rounds, and besides, she said, “You can get a free hat and t-shirt for me.” We had played in the national clay-court super senior championships in Florida and so I thought it might be fun to do this also. Nothing to lose, as I had been bageled by 80-year olds!

Did you feel a little embarrassed to do this?

Yes, a little. I didn’t know what would happen when I showed up, thought there might be some snickering or even that they would bar me from playing, say it was all a big mistake. But, I didn’t get that chance the first time I registered two years ago. I ended up stuck in a tournament in D.C. that day of my scheduled play, because of rain delay, and besides, I was nursing a groin pull or something that was so painful, I could barely get through the match I was playing that morning. So, I called and defaulted. The director was really nice, though, later emailing me to say where should he send the cap and t-shirt? So, I took that as an encouraging sign. I was just an anonymous statistic.

So, then what happened?

Well, there was one more giant detour (laugh). Last year, 2013, I was scheduled to get a ‘minor’ operation for the groin injury that turned out to be a ‘sports hernia’, not the substantial kind, but a fairly common injury for tennis players. But, it needed anesthesia and so I went back to my primary physician, who had just passed me with flying colors for my annual physical the month before. However, this time, the EKG showed some blips that he didn’t like. One thing led to another and suddenly I was shown an angiogram that revealed a need for a triple by-pass! I protested that I had never been short of breath while playing one or even two matches the same day in a tournament. However, the surgeons convinced me that even though I could tough it out perhaps, why not do it now rather than later, and besides, did I want suddenly to have a heart attack on the court? They had a convincing point. I had just played in the father-daughter tournament against a pro father who had experienced such an attack on the court at the previous year’s tournament and speaking of embarrassment, that was not the way I wanted to leave the court. So, I went ahead and had the operation. Luckily, it went very well and in a couple of weeks, I was able to start hitting again, and then to enter tournaments in a couple of months. And so May 2014 rolled around and I decided I was feeling great so would sign up for the Open qualifying round again. I had not had the sports hernia operation, but that seemed to have subsided for the moment. When I clicked on the button to enroll, I thought, okay, let’s do it!

And?

Well, I looked at the draw when it came out a couple of weeks later, and there were 81 guys entered. That meant the computer would have to design a draw of 128 slots and I had a bye for the first round. Won my first match? Lol. The next round was slated for the next day, Saturday, at 3 p.m. But, I got an email that asked me if I could play it in the morning because my opponent, from Potomac, Md., could not make the appointed time. Now I have been in tournaments where that would have been a forfeit, but I was not in this for that reason. I would not have entered if my slot had kept a real contender from playing and in the case of figuring out how to avoid changing, I felt the same way. This was even though I would be coming back from seeing my very ill sister in Illinois the night before and could have used the rest on Saturday morning, but also that I knew I would be facing right into the sun at that hour for my left-hand serve, which he would have had to do at 3 p.m., assuming he was a righty (which he was). I wrote back, “no problem, happy to accommodate, if it will help the tournament.”

The day broke with a beautiful sky and temperature. I drove, with my directions, to the relatively new College Park tennis center complex that I had read about, but hadn’t played at. I parked the car across the street, because the facility was very limited on spaces, and walked through a burgeoning farmers’ market that I figured I would frequent after the match. I was about an hour early, so it was easy checking in and sitting around. The tournament officials (about 60 years younger than I) couldn’t have been more welcoming and immediately loaded me up with presents and the afore-promised cap and t-shirt for the current year. I watched a match on a nearby court and hoped that I would be given one much further away. I hit on the backboard a bit and that helped calm me down a bit.

Finally, 10 a.m. arrived and still no opponent. A little after the hour, one of the tournament officials picked up the phone and it sounded as if it might be my opponent. He said he was nearing the place, I was told, and would be there shortly. I had recently been five minutes late to a match and the tournament director had penalized me two games, but I decided not to make a fuss of it. After all, the point was that I would be playing soon in a non-precedented event!

My opponent was an affable 26-year old, who had played for the University of Miami, or was he in graduate school there and perhaps had played at the University of Maryland. I never did get that straight, but nevertheless, I was not going to get a potential loser. My path to fame and fortune might be blocked right here, unless I pulled out a miracle, and I always think positive! And of course, the court assigned was the one closest to the spectators and the tournament table. Whatever. The camera man seemed to take dozens of photos, but I just warmed up and began to play my game. Actually, it wasn’t a bad match. He didn’t ace me once and I won quite a few points although I didn’t get any games. And I only double-faulted once looking straight into the sun for half of my serving games. I wasn’t nervous, perhaps because of my extensive tournament playing a couple of years before. And no one gave me the evil eye for being so old. After the match, he said he had looked up my record online, so he obviously knew my age, but he was quite gracious about it and I wished him well, as I would anyone who had been my opponent. Unfortunately, he didn’t advance much more than another round or two.

But, on the way home, I bought some delicious strawberries that had been picked that morning and also one of the most delicious cantaloupes I had ever tasted. It was worth the trip!

So, are you glad you did it?

Definitely. Later, my daughter, who was not able to come watch, said someone had sent her a facebook photo of me and I looked pretty ferocious executing a perfect backhand, with the ball frozen in the picture as well. And I had my grand-daughter, India, pose with me, as I modeled the garb. I am looking forward to next year, now being a veteran and knowing the lay of the land. Participating is definitely much fun than spectating anytime!