US Open 2023: Balancing Tradition and Influencer Culture

At this year’s US Open, the soundtrack has changed. It’s no longer just the thud of ball on strings, the murmur of the crowd and the occasional roar after a 30-shot rally. It’s ring lights, selfie angles and mid-point filming from luxury suites – and the players have had enough.

The number of accredited content creators at Flushing Meadows has doubled compared with last year, part of a deliberate push by organisers to chase new audiences online. The result has been a tournament wrestling with a modern question: how do you grow the game without losing the code that underpins it?

Influencers in the firing line

The tension spilled into view when chair umpire Kader Nouni stopped play to reprimand a group of influencers in a suite for recording a video during a point. On another court, a creator fired up a bright portable ring light mid-match to capture photos, bathing nearby seats in harsh white glare.

On the surface, these are minor infractions. In the quiet, ritualised world of elite tennis, they are anything but.

Naomi Osaka felt it during her second-round win. Chair umpire Marijana Veljovic repeatedly had to ask fans to keep quiet between points, a basic request that suddenly sounded like a plea to restore an old order.

Osaka’s message afterwards was blunt.

“I think obviously if you come to a sporting event, you have to respect the sport,” the two-time US Open champion said. “I feel like it's common courtesy to read up on the sport, especially the etiquette.”

Her words landed in a stadium that has changed its rules to be more open than ever.

Free movement, frayed nerves

In 2024, the US Open introduced a policy of free fan movement. Spectators no longer have to wait for changeovers to take their seats. It has made the place feel looser, more like a festival than a formal theatre of sport.

It has also raised the stakes on behaviour.

Since Osaka’s opening match, screens around the grounds have carried stronger messages: keep the noise down, no flash photography, no ring lights, no activity that might disrupt play. The warnings are a tacit admission that the balance has tipped too far.

Jessica Pegula, the American third seed, didn’t dress it up.

“I can appreciate the influencers coming and showcasing the US Open experience,” she said. “But I do think that it's tough when you see videos when they're taking pictures and using the selfie lights.

“People are down there trying to perform. It's their career and their job. It seems a bit disrespectful.”

New money, new audience, old standards

Celebrities at Flushing Meadows are nothing new. A-list actors, musicians, even US presidents have long treated the tournament as a late-summer stage. The ultra-wealthy pay thousands of dollars to be seen in the right boxes.

This, though, is different. The influencer economy is built on constant content and visible access. The US Open has welcomed it, and the growing pains are now playing out in real time.

World No 4 Coco Gauff sits at the crossroads of those worlds: a global star who understands the power of social media, and a traditionalist who grew up in the sport’s quiet codes.

“I definitely think it's cool to have a new demographic and I definitely think it helps grow the sport,” she said.

Then came the analogy that stuck.

“But if you're being invited to a red carpet, you wouldn't show up in jeans.

“I think it's just follow the etiquette of the sport.”

The message from the locker room is consistent. New faces are welcome. New noise is not.

Inside the influencer camp

Not all creators are chasing viral moments at any cost. Some come from inside the game.

Eliza Wastcoat is one of them – an influencer with a long-standing passion for tennis, a former Wimbledon ball kid who has built a channel around the intersection of tennis and fashion. She moved to the United States to attend Lehigh University and started her professional life in a creative agency before turning that eye to the sport she loves.

For her, the solution lies in curation, not exclusion.

“There is a space in tennis for influencers and content creators to be welcomed into the sport and reach new audiences,” she said, “but I think there's ways in which the sport can do that which includes content creators and influencers who appreciate the sport itself and the etiquette of it and for those who are maybe new and are bringing new audiences in.”

That means responsibility on both sides.

“I do think it's the responsibility of both the brands, the tournaments and the individuals coming to read up a little bit and understand the etiquette of the type of sporting event they're going to.

“Tennis has really opened up its doors to change but ultimately players need some quiet and the ability to concentrate.

“We all want tennis to grow so inviting people in and making it an all-round experience is great for the game, so it's just an opportunity to further educate people about the game on what tennis is.”

Her stance cuts through the noise: the issue isn’t the phone in your hand, it’s how you use it when a player is staring down break point.

USTA on a tightrope

The United States Tennis Association knows it is walking a fine line. It wants the buzz, the clips, the global reach. It also knows the product on court is non-negotiable.

“We are continually looking for ways to ensure fans in the stands know what is permitted and what is prohibited,” the governing body said in a statement, stressing that it wants fans to have an “incredible time” without interfering with the action.

For Wastcoat, this is as much a strategic question as a cultural one.

“What's the balance of how many credentials or tickets do we give to folks who are new, or how many do we give to creators who know and appreciate the sport?” she asked. “It's trying to find that balance.

“Experiences like this show that tennis is increasing in popularity so in the end more people are going to be a part of it. There's more opportunity with brands than there ever has been and I expect that to continue.”

That is the crux of the US Open’s dilemma. The sport wants more eyes, more fans, more commercial muscle. It has opened the gates and watched the crowds pour in, phones raised.

Now, with chair umpires pausing play to police ring lights and stars calling for respect, the question hangs over Flushing Meadows: can tennis teach a new generation the old rules without losing them in the process?