US Open 2026: Influencers in the Stands and the Challenge of Respecting Boundaries

A tennis umpire usually stops play for a clear reason: a ball rolling onto the court, a loud shout from the stands, or a player requiring medical attention. It is rare for an umpire to lift the microphone and ask a group of spectators to take their seats while a point is still alive. On that evening at the Arthur Ashe Stadium during the 2026 US Open, chair umpire Kader Nouni did exactly that, because a group of influencers had set up an entire photoshoot in a suite behind him, ring light glowing, while Naomi Osaka was preparing to serve. The whole crowd froze. The umpire's voice came through the loudspeaker: “Guys, please, in the suite behind me, thank you guys, please take your seat.” The moment was captured by a fan and posted with the words: “This is one of the cringiest things I have ever seen live. The US Open used to be an actual tennis tournament.” That post quickly went viral, but it was only the visible surface of a much larger story about how American tennis is trying to chase the influencer economy. I sat in the press area, not looking for a shocking moment, but to read the rhythm of the match. When Kader Nouni spoke, I watched Osaka. She said nothing, but her movement rhythm broke. Her next toss went astray, she had to apologise to Zakharova and reset. Osaka still won in straight sets, but that moment showed something the scoreboard would never reflect: a competitor's concentration can be shattered by one misplaced camera click. To understand why this happened, one has to look at the numbers the United States Tennis Association, known as USTA, released before the tournament. In 2026, USTA gave out 54 media credentials to content creators. In 2026, that number nearly doubled to close to 100. USTA media operations director Jeanmarie Daly said the goal was to reach “the broadest possible spectrum” of audiences beyond traditional tennis coverage. She wanted young people, people who do not watch tennis, to see the US Open through the lens of entertainment, fashion, and food channels. These influencers do not only write about tennis. They create content about fashion, food, drinks, lifestyle, and off-court experiences. Last year's US Open creator cohort alone generated more than 5.5 million social media engagements. That number convinced USTA their direction was correct: opening the door to influencer culture is how the US Open can survive strongly in an era when sports must compete with every other form of entertainment. But what happens when a content creator enters a tennis court without understanding its unwritten rules? They see a good seat, a beautiful view, and a ring light; they do not see the tension of a player trying to read a serve. They do not see the breathing rhythm of the match. People look at the match, but I look at the breathing of the match, and that breath was choked in the moment the amateur photographers lifted their cameras during a live point. After the match, the world's top players spoke up. Jessica Pegula, the world No. 3 from the United States, said she can appreciate creators showcasing the tournament experience, from food and drinks to the general atmosphere, because that makes the Open attractive to people who might not otherwise show up. But she also did not hold back about the boundary. According to Pegula, the players down there are trying to perform, and it is their career and their job, and the current level of disruption has “gotten a little maybe too much” this year and “seems a bit disrespectful.” Pegula is not against having influencers at the tournament. She just wants them to understand that the court is a workplace, not a film set. A player may spend months preparing for one match, and they have only one moment to execute a shot. If someone clicks a flash at the exact moment the racket meets the ball, the ball can fly off course, and the entire match can turn in another direction. Influencers do not see that because they have never stood where an athlete must face pressure in every millisecond. Daniil Medvedev, the 2026 US Open champion, preferred to look at the bigger picture. He said the more the sport grows, the better it is, and he trusts USTA’s approach. Medvedev was not too worried about the specific distractions. If a light or a noise happens during a point, players can simply flag it to the umpire, and he suspects most creators would course-correct once told. Medvedev’s view has the pragmatism of someone who has experienced pressure: he knows the court is not always perfect, and what matters is how athletes adapt. Aryna Sabalenka, the world No. 1 from Belarus, was perhaps the most straightforwardly positive. Asked about the growing influencer presence at the 2026 US Open, Sabalenka said she fully supports it. “I love it, I love it. It’s more eyes on our sport.” Sabalenka looks at the issue from a media perspective: the more people talk about a tournament, the more promotional value it has, and influencers are the bridge that can bring tennis to fans who have never known the sport. But Naomi Osaka, whose match was interrupted, offered the most balanced statement. She said creators can genuinely help grow the sport’s reach, but showing up to a sporting event comes with a basic obligation to understand it. Osaka said: “If you come to a sporting event, you have to respect the sport, and I feel like it’s common courtesy to read up on the sport.” She stressed that the etiquette side needs to be managed far better than it was in her first-round match. Coco Gauff echoed the same sentiment after her second-round win. Gauff did not take a “ban the influencers” stance; instead, she made a clever argument about the dress code for the room. She compared showing up to a tennis match without knowing its norms to walking onto a red carpet in jeans. She said she does not mind the crowd of newcomers, but they need to understand where they are. Gauff’s specific asks were simple: no flash photography, keep noise down given how loud Ashe already gets, and definitely no filming or talking through a live point. She stressed that it is not just for the players but also for the viewing experience of everyone around them. This story is not simply about clueless influencers invading the court. I have followed American tennis for nearly five decades, and I know tournaments must change to survive. In the 1990s, organizers worried about rowdy fans between points. In the 2000s, they had to deal with mobile phones. Now they have to deal with influencers looking for the perfect photo to post. Every era has its own challenge, but tennis has survived because the boundary between the court and the stands was always protected by unwritten rules. What bothers me most is the responsibility of the organizers. When USTA handed out close to 100 credentials to content creators, did they take the time to explain the sport and its culture? A food content creator may not know that during a tennis match, spectators must sit still while the ball is in flight. They may not know that a single camera click can make a player lose focus and lose the point. USTA wants to expand its audience, but if it does not equip its new ambassadors with basic etiquette, it is putting the match at risk. I remember sitting at a small practice court with no one around, watching a young player practice his serve. He served over and over, and I watched how he adjusted his breathing after every ball. No cameras, no fans, no one to impress. Just him and the ball. That is the moment I understood that tennis, at its core, is a dialogue between the athlete and himself. When an influencer stands up during a live point to take a photo, they cut that dialogue, whether unintentionally or deliberately. A tactic never dies; it just waits for someone who understands it. Likewise, a match is never truly ruined by a moment of distraction if the people around know how to correct it. But the price of correction can be very high. For a player, one moment of lost concentration can mean a lost game, a lost set, or even the whole match. For traditional fans, a match interrupted by reasons unrelated to the sport can make them feel that the tournament is no longer a place for them. There is a common misunderstanding that to attract young fans, one must turn the stadium into a party. But young audiences are smarter than we think. They come to see world-class players, to witness unbelievable shots, to feel the tension of every rally. They do not need an influencer blocking their view to take a selfie. If a young person wants to know tennis, they will go to tennis, not to a photo of a hamburger in the Ashe concourse. So where is the solution? In my view, the solution is not to expel influencers. They are already part of the modern media ecosystem, and ignoring them would be a strategic mistake. What needs to be done is to turn them into knowledgeable spectators before turning them into broadcasters. USTA could hold a short orientation session before the tournament, where experts explain the rules of tennis, when it is forbidden to take photos, and how to move around the seating area. With just 30 minutes, influencers would understand that they can create thousands of engaging pieces of content without having to photograph a live point. I am old, but the pulse of the ball is never old. I still believe that every new generation can learn to love tennis if they are taught properly. But for that to happen, those who open the doors of the stadium must understand that the court is not a stage for anyone. It is a place that celebrates precision, patience, and respect. When a player is about to serve, the whole world should be quiet and watch, because only in that moment are they giving their most complete self to the sport. Looking back at the incident in the Osaka–Zakharova match, I do not think it was a crime. It was a lesson. A lesson for USTA about managing the expectations of the people they invite. A lesson for influencers about understanding that their presence can create value, but it can also create disruption. And a lesson for all of us that the boundary between the court and the stands is not a boundary of distance, but a boundary of mutual respect. That match ended with Osaka’s victory, and the influencers in the suite got the photo they wanted. But the real story is not in the photo. It is in the question we must ask ourselves: can a major tournament like the US Open open its doors to new voices while still preserving the sacred rhythm of the match? I believe it can, but only if everyone crossing that door understands that they are entering a sacred place, where the small yellow ball is still moving according to its own rules. When the court is empty, I hear the voice of the match more clearly. When the stands are full, I hear the chaos of life. But wherever I am, I wait for the moment when the ball touches the strings and produces a crisp sound. That is the sound no ring light can replace. That is why I am still here, after nearly half a century of observation, still believing that tennis will find a way to coexist with influencers, as long as they learn to listen to the pulse of the ball before pressing the shutter.