Eyes on the prize money

World No. 1 Rafael Nadal was forced to work up a sweat in his opening-round match against German qualifier Bjorn Phau. (Charles Krupa/Associated Press)

NEW YORK - The blue courts are hard, the resolve of a red-hot Spanish conquistador named Nadal is harder, and the internationally flavored guys and dolls are in town playing tennis again. Their fortnight is called the US Open, the last of the year's majors, at the Billie Jean King Center in Flushing Meadow.

If there was a hard-luck guy here yesterday, it was a 28-year-old German named Bjorn Phau. He got in through the back door as a qualifier ranked No. 136 only to find himself looking at No. 1, Rafael Nadal, a bruiser seeking his third major of 2008. Phau was named for Bjorn Borg, the great Swedish champion - but a luckless lad at the Open, zero for 10 years.

Still, in making Nadal pay attention - Phau beaten, 7-6 (7-4), 6-3, 7-6 (7-4) - he walked off with $18,500, which should keep him eating for a while. First prize in the first Open was $14,000.

This reminded me that a US Army lieutenant named Arthur Ashe worked the original Open in 1968 for 20 bucks a day, expenses. He was something called an amateur, a rare bird these days, perhaps an extinct species.

Sadly, Ashe, a humanitarian as well as a tennis Hall of Famer, is no longer with us for the US Tennis Association's celebration of the 40th anniversary of "open" tennis. Kind readers, most of you will wonder what I'm talking about. After all, prize money has been the norm since 1968, which seems as long ago as the Dark Ages.

But there was a time, between 1881 and 1967, when the US Championships were limited to true-blue (or so-called) amateurs, and the rewards were largely free lunch, and maybe a trophy. It was appropriate that in that horrific year of turmoil, 1968 - murders of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy, Chicago cops vs. Vietnam protesters at the Democratic convention, general strikes in France - tennis should experience an upheaval. After years of agitation for allowing the outlaws - the pros - back into the big tent such as Wimbledon and the US Championships, where they had starred as amateurs, British and American administrative factions forced the integration of amateurs and pros: open tennis.

It was about time, because the pros, though a small band, were the game's best: all-timers Rod Laver, Pancho Gonzalez, Ken Rosewall, Lew Hoad, Andres Gimeno, John Newcombe, and Tony Roche to name seven. It was an amnesty for the banned pros, condemned to one-night stands and an occasional tourney such as the US Pro at Longwood in Boston.

Tournament bosses were cautious. Wimbledon put up $62,000 for its first open. But USTA president Bob Kelleher, today a 95-year-old federal judge in Los Angeles, wanted to make a bigger splash: $100,000 for the inaugural US Open pot. Although many of his colleagues thought he was loony, that he would bankrupt the fragile USTA, Kelleher was right in believing that integrating the amateurs and pros would be a financial and artistic success, and now the USTA makes about $150 million on the tournament.

"Amateur" is an obsolete word. But 40 years ago, on grass at Forest Hills, the amateurs had some fun at the pros' expense in the new world. Ashe and Clark Graebner made the semis. Ashe got there by beating Cliff Drysdale, now the debonair TV babbler, and Graebner knocked out the defending champion, Newcombe. Ray Moore, a South African who bravely spoke out against apartheid at home, and is one of the Indian Wells tournament proprietors, upset Gimeno in the first round.

A revelation was the 40-year-old Gonzalez, returning to Forest Hills 19 years after winning the US title, ascending to the quarters over Wimbledon runner-up Roche.

The pros were edgy. They had reputations to defend. Wimbledon champ and No. 1 Laver stumbled against Drysdale, who laughs, "I opened up the tournament for Ashe." But Ashe did some heavy lifting in beating ex-champ Roy Emerson, Graebner, and for the title, Tom Okker of the Netherlands in five blazing sets. Though the loser, Okker won first prize, $14,000, because Ashe was ineligible as an amateur. Having won the US Amateur title at Longwood two weeks earlier, Ashe completed a never-to-be-repeated double: an amateur seizing both crowns. Of course, he turned pro after his release from the Army.

Virginia Wade, the stylish Englishwoman who won the first open that year, the British Hard Court Championship in April, as an amateur, quickly decided enough of that. She signed in as a pro at Forest Hills and stunned favored Billie Jean King for first prize, $6,000. She said she preferred certified checks to tickets for tea time.

Well, we know that inflation has taken over, and Okker's $14,000 reward of 1968 looks like something this year's champions would pass out as tips. Pursuing the titles held by Roger Federer and the abdicated Justine Henin, this year's champs will collect $1.5 million apiece.

Seems sort of obscene for chasing a little yellow ball, doesn't it? I hope the rich USTA is plowing back millions into youth programs. Not just to develop champions in this time of American talent scarcity, but just to put more kids on the courts to enjoy this wonderful game.

The $23.2 million pot is considerably heavier than the 100 grand risk Kelleher took four decades ago, and the kids work hard for it. But I still like to think back to the skinny but heavy-hitting Ashe coming out of the pack of pros to land the big one.

I encountered his father, weeping, under the stands. He told me that his wife was unable to conceive.

"We waited five years. Then a doctor a friend recommended helped her. But he was a sickly child. I thought we might lose him - now this . . ."

Of all the 40 Opens, there's never been a better day. Anyone who knew Arthur would agree.