Committee News

Between the Numbers – Love, Money, and the Business of Tennis

Mark Carter, Finance Committee chair

Recently, I learned that a first-round loser at the U.S. Open gets $140,000. This was encouraging news until I discovered that losing to Gulf Harbour doesn’t pay anything—and may get you a side-eye from Whitey Sornat.

Now, if someone offered you $140,000 to lose a tennis match, you would probably grab your racquet, lace up your shoes, and ask where to sign. There’s a small catch: first you have to become one of the best tennis players in the world.

The recently completed 2026 U.S. Open provided an interesting lesson in the economics of professional sports. We saw the stars, packed stadiums, and giant checks presented to the men’s and women’s champions, Alexander Zverev and Elena Rybakina. What we didn’t see was the small business operating behind virtually every player on the court.

And make no mistake: a professional tennis player is a small business—although most small businesses don’t require their owners to return 100-to-130-mile-per-hour serves.

First, the big numbers.

The 2026 U.S. Open provided a record $108 million in total player compensation, up 20% from $90 million last year and 44% from two years ago. The men’s and women’s singles champions each received $5.5 million. This is one professional sport with true gender equity.

But here’s the number I find more interesting: $140,000.

That’s what a player received for making the 128-player singles draw and losing in the first round. Win one match and lose in the second round, and the payout increased to $190,000. Reach the third round and it was $290,000. The money kept climbing until the champions deposited their $5.5 million checks.

Not a bad week’s work. Except that it took a lifetime of work to get there.

Consider a player ranked around No. 100 in the world. In almost any other profession, being the 100th-best person on Earth at what you do would likely make you wealthy. Imagine being the world’s 100th-best surgeon, attorney—or accountant. Tennis doesn’t work that way.

An NFL, MLB or NBA player has a team paying the coaches, trainers, medical staff and travel expenses. A professional tennis player largely pays those expenses personally. He or she is the business: hiring coaches, paying support personnel and financing the worldwide travel necessary to compete.

So, let’s follow the money.

Our hypothetical No. 100 player arrived in New York, lost in the first round and collected $140,000. She may have owed her coach a percentage of the prize money. There were coaching and support costs, meals, training, physical therapy and other expenses, although the U.S. Open provided meaningful travel and lodging assistance. Then, of course, Uncle Sam wanted to see the scorecard.

Depending on the player’s particular arrangements and tax situation, that $140,000 headline number might have translated into something like $75,000–$85,000 of spendable income. Still pretty good for losing a tennis match. But now zoom out from one tournament to an entire year.

Professional tennis is a worldwide traveling business. Australia in January. The United States. Europe for the clay-court season. England for Wimbledon. Back to North America. Then perhaps Asia. Thirty weeks or more on the road isn’t unusual. Coaches need salaries. Airplanes sell tickets. Hotels insist on being paid. Racquets need stringing. Trainers and physical therapists cost money. And those expenses continue whether the player wins or loses.

The cruelest number in tennis may therefore be love—zero.

Lose early in enough smaller tournaments, get injured for a few months, or fail to qualify for a major event, and the expenses continue while the prize money disappears. That’s why the U.S. Open’s emphasis on early-round prize money mattered so much.

The $140,000 first-round payment increased 27% this year. A player losing in the final round of qualifying received $66,000. Win that qualifying match, make the main draw and then lose immediately, and the payout jumped to $140,000.

One match could therefore be worth $74,000.

Think about that the next time you’re facing break point against Gulf Harbour with the match on the line. Suddenly that friendly interclub match doesn’t seem quite so financially stressful. Of course, even if you’re not worried about Whitey, there are still Ted Corcoran and his expectations!

There’s another wrinkle to the economics that separates the U.S. Open from most American professional sports.

The tournament is operated by the United States Tennis Association, a tax-exempt, not-for-profit organization. Unlike MLB, the NBA or the NFL, there are no U.S. Open franchise owners waiting for their share of the profits. The USTA’s mission is to promote and develop tennis in the United States, and the U.S. Open is the financial engine that helps fund that mission. All those USTA clinics, tournaments and other programs around the country depend, in part, on that support.

That distinction matters.

The Open generates hundreds of millions of dollars from tickets, television rights, sponsorships and hospitality. But money not paid to players isn’t simply distributed to owners. It also supports tournament operations and facilities, capital investment, player development, community tennis and programs intended to grow the game. The USTA is currently providing an extraordinary example of that reinvestment: an $800 million redevelopment of Arthur Ashe Stadium and the National Tennis Center, which it says is being funded entirely by the USTA without taxpayer money.

Unlike that Chicago football stadium being built in Indiana—but that’s another column.

So, the debate over whether players receive a large enough percentage of U.S. Open revenue isn’t quite the same as a labor dispute between NBA players and billionaire team owners. The players have a legitimate argument for a larger share, particularly those struggling to remain on tour. But the USTA can reasonably respond that some of the money generated by the Open is being reinvested in tennis itself.

The economics also explain the enormous financial gap between tennis’s superstars and everyone else. The top handful can earn millions in prize money and millions more from endorsements. The player ranked No. 100 may be deciding whether bringing another member of the support team to Europe fits the budget.

And yet, No. 100 is still one of the very best tennis players walking the planet. Perhaps that’s the most interesting number of all.

So, as we look back at this year’s U.S. Open, remember that someone who lost in the first round “earned” $140,000—and that the numbers on the scoreboard aren’t always the numbers that matter.

Revenue is not profit. Prize money is not take-home pay. And being among the 100 best people in the world at something doesn’t necessarily mean you’re set for life. Those are distinctions any tennis player—or accountant—can appreciate.

Which brings us back to Heritage Palms.

There’s an old tennis joke that says the problem with tennis is that no matter how good you are, you’ll eventually meet your match. At Heritage Palms, apparently you might meet him or her at Gulf Harbour.

And unlike the U.S. Open, when you lose, Whitey still expects you to buy the beer.