US Open 2025 controversy: Weed smells, airplane roars, Theatre of Chaos

US Open 2025 turns chaotic at Flushing Meadows with weed smells, airplane roars and rowdy fans testing tennis stars' focus amid New York's unique madness.

The US Open 2025 is once again proving why it is tennis’s most unpredictable Grand Slam. At Flushing Meadows, order rarely reigns. Instead, the world’s best players are asked to serve, volley and survive in an environment where airplanes roar overhead, marijuana wafts through the stands, and New Yorkers bring their signature rowdy energy.

 

That combustible mix came to a head early Monday when a match was halted for more than five minutes after a photographer strayed onto the court. Spectators booed, players protested and 2021 champion Daniil Medvedev berated the umpire, stirring the crowd further. “They didn’t want to stop,” Medvedev shrugged. “So, whatever.”

 

 

The incident is just one of many reminders that the US Open is as famous for its chaos as it is for its champions.

 

Why the story matters

 

The unpredictability at Flushing Meadows highlights a larger truth about modern tennis. At Wimbledon and Roland Garros, fans are hushed into reverence. At the US Open, players must navigate a sensory overload: music during changeovers, the smell of hot dogs and grilled food, fans shouting mid-point, even the unmistakable haze of weed drifting through the stadium.

 

Some thrive in the madness. Frances Tiafoe, twice a semifinalist, says he feeds off the energy. “I operate well in chaos,” he declares. American Ben Shelton, a 2023 semifinalist, agrees: “I guess I find peace in the chaos.”

 

Others struggle. Former Wimbledon finalist Agnieszka Radwanska admitted New York drained her: “Everything takes so much energy from you and just sucks it up. Everything is loud. All the smells around, like the hamburgers. Everything is really noisy.” 

 

The numbers involved

 

Stadium size: Arthur Ashe Stadium seats 23,859—nearly 10,000 more than Centre Court at Wimbledon or Court Philippe-Chatrier in Paris.

Player participation: Adrian Mannarino, playing his 15th US Open, confessed the chaos no longer feels charming at 37.

Historic champions: Multiple Grand Slam winners like Aryna Sabalenka and Marin Cilic initially found the Open overwhelming before learning to adapt.

 

The setting itself fuels the tension. Manhattan’s proximity means constant commuter noise. Jets from nearby LaGuardia regularly interrupt points. And then there is New York City itself. “Every corner of every street, you smell [weed],” said 2022 runner-up Casper Ruud, admitting the city’s pungent atmosphere still unsettles him.

 

Love it, hate it—or both

 

For many players, feelings toward the US Open evolve with time. Some begin enamoured with the bright lights and endless diversions, only to feel smothered years later. French veteran Adrian Mannarino captured that shift candidly: “In my 20s, I loved coming here. There was so much to do. But the older I get, the less I enjoy being here. It’s a little bit chaotic.”

 

Conversely, stars like Aryna Sabalenka initially disliked the commotion—“Really confusing,” she once said—but eventually embraced it. Monica Seles, a two-time champion, summed it up: “It’s something you really can’t train the brain to deal with. You just adjust to it.”

 

The big picture

 

The US Open is more than a tennis tournament—it is New York itself distilled into sport: noisy, unfiltered, intoxicating and exhausting. Where Wimbledon brings silence and tradition, Flushing Meadows offers swagger and spectacle.

 

For fans, it is part of the charm. For players, it is a test unlike any other, forcing them to find rhythm amid boos, camera clicks and marijuana smoke. In 2025, as in every edition before it, the US Open proves that champions are not only crowned with forehands and serves—but also with the resilience to conquer chaos.