When a good friend reached out to ask if I’d like to attend the U.S. Open with her (in courtside seats sponsored by her investment firm employer, no less) I jumped at the opportunity. The Grand Slam tournament — set amid the summer’s final feverish days — had long been on my bucket list as a New Yorker.
As a lifelong runner and intermittent tennis player, one might assume my response to my friend would be related to the world-class athletes we’d get to see play. Instead, I smirked in amusement when, after replying with an enthusiastic “YESSSS” to my friend’s text, we each sent variations of the same messages simultaneously, neither of which were about tennis.
