The defining noise on Louis Armstrong Stadium wasn’t a cheer. It was the sharp crack of a racket meeting concrete—again and again—after Daniil Medvedev exploded over a match-point ruling that handed Benjamin Bonzi a fresh first serve. A photographer had stepped onto the court. The chair umpire called a let. And a tense first-round night match at the 2025 US Open spun into chaos.
Bonzi, ranked No. 51, had the 2021 champion on the edge: 6-3, 7-5, 5-4, 40-15, serving for the win. His first serve missed. As he set up for the second, a photographer moved prematurely onto the playing area. Chair umpire Greg Allensworth ordered the person off and, under the rules, restored Bonzi’s first serve. Medvedev went off.
He shouted up at the chair, demanded an explanation, and questioned why the umpire was “shaking.” He brought up Reilly Opelka’s past jab calling Allensworth “the worst umpire on tour.” Then he stared into a courtside camera and needled the crowd: “He wants to go home, guys. He doesn’t like to be here. He gets paid by the match, not by the hour.” The New York crowd, never shy, roared back. Medvedev raised his arms and egged them on. The scolding turned to demolition as he pounded his racket into the court and then into the bench. A six-minute delay followed.
The flashpoint on match point
Everything hinged on a split-second interruption. Bonzi’s missed first serve put Medvedev one swing from staying alive. Then came the photographer, the let, and the redo. The No. 13 seed saw red. In his view, a brief disturbance that happened before a second serve shouldn’t earn the server a do-over on the first.
Allensworth stuck with the call. Play resumed after the delay. And in a twist that has trailed Medvedev throughout his career, the chaos seemed to sharpen him. He snatched the third-set tiebreak 7-5. He bageled the fourth 6-0, steamrolling rallies and flashing that flat, skidding baseline game that won him this tournament four years ago. Suddenly, it felt like a classic New York heel turn: the player playing the villain, feeding off the noise, flipping the momentum.
But Bonzi didn’t blink. The Frenchman regrouped, held his ground in tight exchanges, and closed the fifth set 6-4 for a 6-3, 7-5, 6-7(5), 0-6, 6-4 win. It is one of the biggest results of his career and a gritty response to a match that tried to run away from him. He had to serve for the match twice on one of tennis’s rowdiest courts, with a Grand Slam champion charging and the crowd in full theater mode. He handled it.
Post-match, Medvedev said his anger was about the ruling, not the photographer. “I was not upset with the photographer. It was nothing special,” he said. “Every time there’s a sound from the stands between serves, there is never a second serve.” He also pushed back on the idea he incited the crowd: “They did the work. I didn’t do anything.” Bonzi saw it differently, saying Medvedev “put oil on the fire” and “started it.”
Former US Open champion Andy Roddick offered the knowing shrug of someone who’s been there. “This is just Meddy being Meddy,” he said later. In 2019, Medvedev turned a week of boos into an unlikely love story with the New York crowd, leaning into the villain role and then winning them over with his play. Sunday night felt like an echo of that script—only this time the comeback stopped one set short.
What the rules say and why the crowd turned
The debate centers on a dry but important piece of the rulebook: hindrance. Under the standard rules of tennis, if there’s an unintentional external disturbance during a point—or between serves—the chair can call a let. If the interference happens after a first-serve fault and before the second serve is struck, the server is entitled to two serves again. It’s designed to protect the server from distractions that could influence a crucial delivery.
That’s why the umpire restored Bonzi’s first serve. You see it with a rogue shout from the stands, a ball rolling from an adjacent court, or, on rare occasions, a person entering the playing area. The rule doesn’t care about intent; it cares that the server’s rhythm was broken by something outside the players’ control.
- External interference during or between serves equals a let.
- If it follows a first-serve fault, the server gets two serves again.
- The chair has discretion to apply the rule and manage the situation.
Medvedev’s counter-argument—that noise and movement are part of the New York backdrop and shouldn’t flip the serve back to first—reflects how players experience these moments in real time. On Armstrong, the court sits tight to the front rows and photo pits. Movement feels closer. A restart can feel like the scale tipping at the worst possible moment.
The tournament’s operations are built to prevent that exact scenario. Photographers and TV crews are briefed on movement protocols. They can change positions between games, not between serves. Stepping onto the court area during play is a hard no. It still happens—rarely—and when it does, the chair cleans it up with a let. Sunday night showed how explosive that call can be at match point.
The aftermath was always going to cost Medvedev. Tournament officials confirmed he will be fined for comments directed at the chair umpire. Under the sport’s code of conduct, players can also be fined for racquet abuse and unsportsmanlike conduct. The size of the fine typically depends on the severity and whether it’s a repeat offense. The money won’t sting as much as the loss.
There’s a broader story here too. Medvedev has now lost in the first round at three straight Grand Slams, a jarring slide for a former world No. 1 who usually cashes majors for deep runs. He came in seeded 13th, but the results keep trending downward. His baseline patterns are still there—deep returns, elastic defense, counterpunching lasers down the line—but the margins are thinner. The annoyance that once fueled him can drift into spiral.
And yet, the middle of this match reminded everyone of what he still is: a threat at any time. Down two sets, he found the tiebreak, then bagelled a professional opponent on a hard court at a major. That doesn’t happen by accident. The crowd, which started by jeering, got drawn into the show. Medvedev has always known how to use that energy, whether it’s warm or hostile. He turns it into tempo.
Bonzi deserves equal focus. He earned the lead with composed, first-strike tennis and a clean serving day until the fourth-set dip. He absorbed the six-minute delay, the racket smash, and the noise swinging Medvedev’s way. In the fifth, he steadied his forehand, found first serves under pressure, and trusted patterns that had worked early: spread the court, take time away, avoid long exchanges on Medvedev’s terms. Closing in that environment—after a runaway fourth-set bagel—is the kind of step that can change a player’s season.
As for the chair, Allensworth won’t win a popularity contest in New York, but the call tracks with the book. He also had to manage a live arena for six minutes as a top player shredded his equipment. That’s a tough gig under lights with millions watching. Opelka’s old dig, dragged into the moment by Medvedev, guaranteed the boos would linger. But the outcome shouldn’t be confused: the redo on Bonzi’s serve was supported by the hindrance rule.
Medvedev’s quotes after the match added a bit of calm to the storm. He made a point to absolve the photographer, calling it “nothing special,” and even admitted the whole scene helped spark his comeback. That line—“It was a fun moment to live”—sounds like classic Medvedev: part deadpan, part shield, part defiance. The New York crowd has seen this version before. It will see it again.
What comes next? Bonzi moves on to round two with a statement win and, more importantly, proof he can close a chaotic match on a big court. Medvedev leaves with another early exit, a fine, and an episode that will be replayed every time a US Open night session gets loud. His ceiling hasn’t gone anywhere. His floor, the last three majors suggest, has dropped. That’s the gap he needs to close.
On Armstrong, the court-level reality is simple. Split-second calls in noisy moments can tilt a match. The rulebook tries to make those calls consistent. Players live them as swings of fate. Sunday night, a photographer took one step too soon, a chair umpire followed the rule, and a former champion turned the fallout into theater. In New York, that’s almost the expectation.