Home
Latest Posts
Click title to read full posts
By now we can assume that there are few people in the nation who are unaware of the Dec. 4 shooting of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson — on his way to an investors’ conference at the New York Hilton in Manhattan — and few people who are unaware that feelings are running about nine to one in favor of the shooter.
“The truth is forced upon us, very quickly, by a foe,” the ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes wrote, and that was perhaps never truer than of tennis’ “Big Four” — Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray. They were, strictly speaking, not foes — which implies an element of enemies, along with cross and double-cross — but rather opponents and especially rivals in the glorious first three decades of this century, when they won 69 Slam titles and three of the last four gold medals in men’s singles at the Summer Olympics (Nadal in 2008, Murray in ’12 and ’16 and Djokovic this year).
People talk about Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz and their contrasting temperaments and talents — Apollonian ice versus Dionysian fire respectively — which may ultimately eclipse the four. But I predict that when the history of tennis is finished, fans will look back at the Big Four as the likes of which we never saw again.
Recently, The Museum of Modern Art director Glenn D. Lowry, a man I interviewed several times in my career as a cultural writer, announced that he will step down from his post after 30 years in September of 2025.
As much as his counterpart Philippe de Montebello at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, who left that post in 2008 after more than 30 years as its longest-serving director, Lowry really shaped the New York City cultural scene at the twilight of the 20th century and the dawn of the 21st. He could’ve stayed on.
But he told The New York Times: “I didn’t want to be the person who stayed too long.”
In that, however, Lowry is a rare bird.
