United States Open Tennis Tournament

Rocky Balboa met Pete Sampras on Thursday. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whether you were watching on television, or sitting somewhere among the 20,000 on Stadium Court at the U.S. Tennis Center in New York, it was exhilarating and exhausting. Imagine how the players felt. Sampras beat a wonderful little clay-courter from Spain, Alex Corretja, in five wonderful sets, ending in a wonderful 9-7 tiebreaker that had drama dripping from every corner.

Pete Sampras did not practice at the National Tennis Center on Friday, choosing instead to stay at his hotel and rest after Thursday night's physically and emotionally wrenching quarterfinal match against Alex Corretja. Sampras, who vomited several times during his match against Corretja, is expected to be fine for his semifinal match today against Goran Ivanisevic. Andre Agassi will play Michael Chang in the other semifinal.

Something's different at the U.S. Open this year, something not having to do with construction or player boycotts. Nick Bollettieri, that tanned tennis fixture, will not be sighted grinning behind sunglasses in a players' box on any of the show courts. For the first time in a long time, Bollettieri is not coaching anyone good enough to pay attention to. He's here, however, promoting his book, "My Aces, My Faults," written with Dick Schaap.

I was sitting in front of my television set Sunday, openly cheering for Michael Chang to win the U.S. Open tennis championship. Then something finally got through my thick skull. How could I not cheer for Pete Sampras? In this world of negativity and sarcasm, I am pleased that someone such as Sampras exists, because the worst thing that anybody can say about Pete is that his tennis balls are fuzzy. Sampras is everything I ever wanted in an athlete. He plays hard. He plays hurt.

Pete Sampras' coach will not be coming to the U.S. Open when it begins Monday. Just as he missed the French Open and Wimbledon, another Grand Slam tournament will slip away without Tim Gullikson. Sampras is here, missing his coach, but longing for his friend more.

Storm clouds lurking over the Atlantic, stormy rivalries in the locker room. Two stars preoccupied and one re-occupied with regaining her former stellar status. The already noisy venue now a dusty construction site. As a tattered curtain rises on another U.S. Open and professional tennis' wheezing tour limps into town for its final Grand Slam event, it's clear to see why players and officials have their nerves on edge: The heat. The rain. The traffic. The city.

Maria Sharapova will sit out the U.S. Open because of a bad right shoulder, the first major championship she'll skip since her Grand Slam debut in 2003. The three-time Grand Slam title winner already had announced she was pulling out of the Beijing Olympics because of the injury. The No. 3-ranked Sharapova said in a posting on her website Friday that she probably won't need surgery and could be ready to play in two to three months. "It hurts me so much to miss the Olympics and the U.S.

NEW YORK -- It is wholly appropriate that Rafael Nadal come to this city in his effort to twist one last bit of muscle into the hard headlock he now has on men's tennis. New York is a place, after all, where toughness, strength and the ability to bully one's way through any obstacle are primary points of pride. Sure, the Spaniard is a wonderful guy; cheery, humble, even sweet -- off the court.

NEW YORK -- As the 7-train screeches into the Shea Stadium/National Tennis Center stop, the year's last tennis Grand Slam says hello with quite the goofy billboard shouting from out the right-side window. It's Maria Sharapova pitching cameras, and while sticklers and other malcontents might point out that a torn rotator cuff means Sharapova won't actually, you know, play this U.S. Open, maybe the sign actually sort of works.

NEW YORK -- It wasn't supposed to be this tough. Rafael Nadal's forehand sailed wide. The scoreboard showed him behind, 3-2, in a first-set tiebreaker. The crowd stood, showering his opponent with love. Then, suddenly, predictably, the way he has done all year when it counts, the Spaniard pushed to the next level. He powered a backhand that forced an error. He hit an ace. Sending fast, heavily spun balls flying toward his opponent, he drew two more errors. Suddenly, the set was his.