From throne to thrown

NEW YORK -- Kveta did not kvetch.

No, Kveta Peschke, the 30-year-old pride of Bilovec, Czech Republic, didn't grumble at all after walking off a strip of blue pavement at 12:12 yesterday, officially the first loser of the 125th edition of the US Tennis Championships.

Peschke, No. 36 in the world pecking order, said it was just nice being here and accepted a $15,000 check, compensation for losing a 61-minute intramural bout, 6-3, 6-1, to 26th-seeded Nicole Vaidisova from Prague.

Well, it was a pleasant, warm afternoon as a happy throng of 31,230 roamed the grounds of Flushing Meadow. And there will be more losers before this Open concludes -- 254 to be exact -- leaving one guy and one doll standing to collect $1.1 million apiece.

So, here we go again. The US Open is reopened: the biggest, richest, loudest tennis show on earth, with music -- some ghastly, some good -- erupting everywhere and fireworks sprinkled on top. It dates back to 1881, when a Harvard dude named Dick Sears won the first edition among the swells who gathered to summer at Newport. Only one American sporting carnival has been around longer: the Kentucky Derby began hoofing it in 1875.

Not many favorites have stumbled at the Derby's starting gate. But one favorite did here. Moving as though she wore horseshoes instead of sneakers, the usually cheerful Svetlana Kuznetsova set a tournament record for futility. Never before had a defending women's champion been tossed from the saddle before getting anywhere. However, the fifth-seeded Russian fell with a great thud, 6-3, 6-2, to an unheralded countrywoman, 97th-ranked Ekaterina Bychkova,

Losing her title before the sun had set on the Meadow's stunning new battery of dancing fountains, Kuznetsova was doubly pained. As though the first-round collapse wasn't bad enough, she, from St. Petersburg, lost to a Muscovite. The rivalry is as friendly as New York and Boston.

A 20-year-old dipping into a major for the first time, Bychkova appeared startled by the whole thing. ''Svetlana killed me when we played in junior tournaments at home. I didn't believe I had much chance, so I didn't think. Just hit."

This opening-round ambushing of a champion has happened a couple of times in the male precinct. Patrick Rafter, the high-spirited Aussie who won the title in 1997 and 1998, couldn't get out of the first round in 1999, bushwhacked by No. 26 Cedric Pioline of France.

Swede Stefan Edberg, who came in seeded first in 1990, and with the Wimbledon championship in his satchel, was bludgeoned immediately by the left hand of Russian Aleksandr Volkov, No. 52.

Edberg roared back, though, by winning the US titles of 1991 and 1992, and continued on a Hall of Fame career.

It was a career finally sabotaged by a lefthanded redhead seen out on Court 9 yesterday, a Belgian named Dick Norman. If Norman stood out to anyone other than his gorgeous lady friend named Ilse, it was because of his height: 6 feet 8 inches. For years he held the title ''tallest man ever to play professionally," until he lost it to the ''Leaning Tower of Zagreb," 6-10 Croat Ivo Karlovic.

''I may have lost the title," said Norman, ''but I've never lost to Karlovic on the court. I'm 3-0 against him." (Karlovic was a four-set victor over American Mardy Fish yesterday.)

Norman, a three-set loser to No. 25 Jiri Novak, wasn't kvetching either. He may well be the most carefree guy on the tour. His ranking, No. 112, squeezed him into the Open for only the third time since he left Waregem, Belgium, with rackets and wanderlust in 1991.

At 34, he intends to keep wandering and swinging, counting heavily on his serve, good for 15 aces yesterday. ''It's a cool way of life. I do make a living [career earnings a paltry $754,884], and the $15,000 today is just fine. I quit for a couple of years to get a real job -- teaching tennis -- and couldn't stand it. The pupils and their parents were a pain you-know-where. Ilse and I are off to the tournaments in Beijing, Bangkok, and Tokyo. We love Asia."

Although he's never penetrated as deep as a singles final, thoughts of Wimbledon 1995 are comforting: victories over three of the house's former champs. ''Pat Cash in the first round, Todd Woodbridge in the second, and Edberg in the third," Norman said with a laugh. ''Edberg said, 'When I lose to that guy it must be time to quit.' And soon he did."

Nor was there a single kvetch from the tiny yet peppy Belle of Billerica (Mass.), 5-4 Mary Gambale. Beaten by the greatest (and only) pro player in the history of Madagascar, No. 48 Dally Randriantefy, 6-3, 6-1, on Court 13, debutante Mary was upbeat.

For the dark-haired kid, 16, it was her third professional tournament, and, like Kveta Peschke, she was just happy to be here. ''I've dreamed about this since I was 6 or 7 and watched the Open on TV," Gambale said, her brown eyes glittering. ''The atmosphere was so different from junior tournaments, so electric. It was great. I had about 20 relatives here cheering for me."

Win or lose it was an OK night for the Gambales, as seen in the big hug given Mary by 9-year-old brother Robbie as she departed the court.

Two weeks ago Mary was the lone Massachusetts native to win the US junior title since Bostonian Hall of Famer Sarah Palfrey in 1930. Now she gets a bonus, returning next week for the US Open junior tourney. A second chance in the same year at the Meadow is rare. Certainly nothing to kvetch about.