US Open 2026 Day Four: Rain, a Sprawling Schedule, and Pegula's Race to No. 1

Early this morning, Hanoi time, the hard courts at Flushing Meadows were still wet after a rainy night. That rain not only delayed matches but turned the fourth day of the 2026 US Open into a sprawling mess. Organizers had to squeeze in leftover matches, creating a marathon day that ran from afternoon until late night. In these conditions, Vietnamese tennis fans probably only want to know one thing: who advances, and who collapses along the way. I have followed Grand Slams for more than two decades. Some watch tennis through emotion, others through the scoreboard. I watch through a clock and a schedule. This year's rain reminds me of an eternal rule in sports: time never takes sides. When matches pile up, stamina becomes the most precious asset, and tactics become a secondary concern. Speaking of tactics, one cannot ignore Daniil Medvedev. The 2026 US Open champion is 'eyeing a power vacuum' in the men's draw. He knows there is no Federer, Nadal, or peak Djokovic left, so the door to a Grand Slam is wider than ever. But I am not quick to believe that story. My experience following matches tells me: when a player starts talking about a 'power vacuum', he might forget that his opponents have read the same map. A court is never empty; it only changes occupants. The most intriguing player today might be Jessica Pegula. She is chasing two things at once: world No. 1 and her first Grand Slam title. That is a double burden. Pegula plays solid baseline tennis, returns well, and is remarkably calm, but tennis history is full of great players who never lifted the big trophy. I recall matches where she saved break points with deep returns, only to lose because of an overly safe forehand. At the US Open, the fast hard court can help her seize control, but it can also hurt her if her opponent chooses a serve-and-volley style. The most anticipated match is surely Ben Shelton against Hubert Hurkacz. Shelton is a left-handed big server; Hurkacz has a huge serve and classic net play. I call this 'a connoisseur's dish on hard courts', but it is also a difficult meal. Shelton can win quickly if he keeps a high first-serve percentage; Hurkacz can drag the match into tense tie-breaks if he stands firm on returns. In Grand Slams, tie-breaks are where nerves shatter. The Ashe Stadium atmosphere will be heavy tonight, and I would not rule out a match lasting more than four sets. Another name making analysts whisper is Brandon Nakashima. He beat Medvedev and Taylor Fritz at Cincinnati before reaching the semi-finals. That is a strong form signal, but I stay cautious with short-term surges. Nakashima plays solid baseline tennis and moves well, but at the US Open, his opponents will have more time to study his weaknesses. If he gets past the third round, I will believe more. For now, I only write in my notebook: observe for at least three more matches. Stefanos Tsitsipas just had a first-round win described as 'his best in a long while' over Arthur Fils. But I remember the times Tsitsipas lost himself on court. He has a textbook forehand, but he often seems confused by good servers and smart slices. In a Grand Slam, confidence only matters if it survives long sets. I will watch how he starts the second set, because that is when real nerves show. In the women's draw, Iga Jovic is said to be 'nearing readiness for contention'. I have heard that phrase many times. It can be a compliment, but it can also be an expectation trap. Young players in the second round of a Slam often shine in the first set, then collapse under physical pressure. I hope Jovic does not believe the praise too soon. From an officiating analyst's perspective, today has a bigger problem than tactics: fairness of time. The rain has made the schedule congested. Matches on Armstrong and Ashe can finish at midnight, while young players on small courts may wait until dusk to play. Based on my experience, matches that end after 11 p.m. leave lasting effects: slower recovery, reduced reflexes, and more errors. Fans like drama, but nobody tells them that drama can be manufactured by an unreasonable schedule. I remember in 2026, while working as a VAR analyst in a major football match, I missed a handball in the box. I stayed in the control room for three weeks afterward, reviewing every frame. I learned that the biggest mistake is not holding the whistle, but refusing to own your whistle. At this US Open, referees and supervisors are facing similar pressure on very fast line calls. They have more camera angles, but they still have to decide in a split second. I always stand behind the officials, because I know how hard that job is. Fans may look at names like Pegula or Medvedev and think they will advance easily. But I look at the starting times, the number of matches played, and the rest hours between them. On rainy days like this, the winner is not necessarily the best striker of the ball, but the one who sleeps the most. There are offside calls that nobody sees, but the camera never blinks. In tennis, there are also invisible decisive moments that no camera captures: the footwork before a serve, the half-second hesitation before net charge, or a glance toward the coach's box before a break point. I find those details at 2 a.m., after everyone has gone home. I realize that, in many cases, the real match is not on the television screen; it is in the space between two swings. If you look at simple stats, a player may fully control a match: more winners, fewer unforced errors, higher first-serve points won. But those numbers do not measure tolerance for boredom. In a Grand Slam, especially on day four, boredom is a weapon. Whoever keeps the ball in play, whoever is more patient, will go further. Medvedev knows this. He has won here before, and he understands that Ashe Stadium can swallow overly excited players. As for Pegula, she must defend like a wall and attack at the right moments. Shelton always wants to hit quickly, but Hurkacz will make him wait. And Tsitsipas? I am not sure even he knows how he will play. That is the beauty of today. The writer is no prophet. I am just someone behind a screen, replaying footage to find how a match can turn. I cannot say who will win, but I can say this: the rain-soaked, crowded schedule will be the biggest invisible opponent of every player. When the clock strikes 11 p.m. in New York, many matches are still unfinished. Young players may compete in the early morning, then return to court only hours later. That is not their fault. It is the result of a rigid schedule that fails to account for weather. In football, there is a fourth official to manage time. In tennis, no official can blow the whistle to end a rainstorm. I will watch especially how players move in the third set, if matches stretch that far. Tired feet say more than any interview. A half-step delay can turn a deep return into a short floater, allowing an opponent one swing to finish. Maybe Vietnamese fans want quick results, but I want them to look deeper. A Grand Slam is not a sprint; it is a marathon where patience is rewarded. Those who watch all of day four will understand that a title is not built by beautiful shots, but by a series of tiny, timely decisions made in the dark. Tonight, after the fans leave and the lights fade, I will still sit in front of my screen, replaying slow-motion points. I will look for details others miss: how a player stands too far from the line, how a ball bounces after applause, how a coach signals from the stands. No place on earth has absolute fairness, but cameras give us the closest fragments of truth. Day four of the 2026 US Open promises to be a long day. I will watch, take notes, and be ready to admit when I am wrong. My profession is not to deliver final verdicts; it is to ensure that every racket, famous or unknown, has a chance to fight until the last ball. When everyone blames a 19-year-old for a missed shot, the person in the VAR room must stand up. In tennis, when everyone criticizes a young player for losing quickly, I think about unfair scheduling and sleepless nights. Go to bed early if you just want the results. But if you truly love tennis, stay up with me, watch every rally, every glance. Because out there, among the applause and the whistles, another game is unfolding: the game of those who see what others do not. And in that game, no scoreboard records the winner except the player's own heart.