Here's for a touch of afternoon schadenfreude. Donald Trump strutted into Arthur Ashe Stadium on Sunday like he was about to collect another meaningless golf trophy. Instead, he walked straight into a wall of sound that no amount of spin, censorship, or Rolex-suite insulation could drown out. New Yorkers booed, and they booed hard.
The U.S. Open men’s final was already delayed by thirty minutes thanks to the president’s security circus, which left ticket holders stuck outside in long lines while Trump was busy waving to a half-empty stadium. That alone was enough to sour the crowd, but when ESPN cut to his face on the big screen, Queens did what Queens does best: they let him have it. Thirty seconds of relentless, stadium-shaking jeers, audible even through the U.S. Tennis Association’s desperate request broadcasters mute the reaction. Sorry, Donald, cell phones exist. You can’t hush an entire borough.
Protesters outside made sure the jeering was an organized affair. Chants of “Boo that mother effer!” and “Trump must go!” punctuated the night, courtesy of refusefascism.org, while JoJo from Jerz coined the perfect tagline: “Start spreading the boos.” The Sinatra remix practically writes itself. Even Gavin Newsom got in on the act, posting a Hunger Games meme mocking Trump’s taxpayer-funded “Predator Patio,” the Rose Garden turned oligarch cocktail lounge.
The tournament trophy itself was relocated to the Rolex suite, because of course it was. Apparently, even silverware has to pay tribute to Trump’s fragile ego. He’s already hoarding a gaudy FIFA Club World Cup knockoff in the Oval Office; why not hold the U.S. Open prize hostage too?
This wasn’t Trump’s first Queens beatdown. Back in 2015, as a fresh-faced candidate, he got booed at the Open. Ten years later, the difference is only the scale of his delusion. Then, he was a punchline. Now, he’s a punchline with nuclear codes, a wrecked economy, and a military occupation of D.C. under his belt. But the reception hasn’t changed because New Yorkers, unlike Trump, remember.
So yes, Donald, the people of your hometown sent you a message, loud and clear, in the only language you truly understand: rejection. Booed in 2015, booed in 2025. Some things, thank God, never change.
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