PARIS — With a relatively uneventful opening day unfolding at Roland Garros, it seemed the best way to spend part of a sunny, breezy afternoon was in my favorite press seat in sports.  A year ago, Chris Clarey wrote a wonderful ode to Court 1, nicknamed the Bullring for its shape and scale. He was the one who first showed me the magic of the place.  But now it is official: Court 1 will be torn down in 2014 or 2015 as part of the expansion plans for the French Open. It will be replaced by a big public plaza, the Place des Mousquetaires, on the eastern side of the premier show court, Court Philippe Chatrier, which will undergo a major renovation and be topped with a retractable roof.  Further to the east, down a path through the Auteuil Greenhouses — currently off the French Open grounds — a new, 5,000-seat court will be built to replace the 3,800-seat Court 1.  It is the plan that kept the French Open in Paris and out of the suburbs. But the tournament is sure to lose its most intimate setting, for reporters and fans alike. But let’s face it; this is about me. On Sunday, I slipped into an outer door and up some dark, concrete steps. I peered through the round window in the heavy metal door. It felt like a magnifying glass; Svetlana Kutznetsova was playing a match a few feet away.  During a break in the action, I slipped through the door and took a seat in the front row. In all sports, including tennis, most media seating is steadily being moved farther from the action, primarily so the space can be sold to paying customers. Court 1, in the southwest corner (the other front-row seats are available to fans), is a lasting exception.  Even to a reporter used to gaining backstage access to places most people cannot go, it feels a little wrong. I half-expect an usher to tap my shoulder and ask me to leave.  From behind the knee-high wall, I could have tapped the baseline judge on the shoulder — and certainly read the time on his watch and saw the stray whiskers missed during that morning’s shave.  It is not a place to daydream. Balls struck from tight angles sometimes rocket into the seats; unlike foul balls in baseball, they must be tossed back. When a player slides toward that side of the court, he or she can leave a reporter in a cloud of dust, like a skier or ice skater coming to a powdery stop. Even without such close encounters, the unsettled, gritty dust from the on-court action often ends up glazed on the notepad, like a layer of volcanic ash.  Do not dare sneeze, though. It might hit the player, and certainly the line judge.  On Sunday, as the 13th-seeded Kuznetsova beat Magdalena Rybarikova, 6-2, 6-3, every utterance could be heard. A Russian reporter could fill a story with nothing but the transcription of the conversation that the animated Kuznetsova had with herself after every errant shot. As she chased balls, she emitted a three-beat sound – “eh-hu-hu” – followed by a long, lyrical “uhhhhhh” as she swung the racket.  Rybarikova’s coach sat three seats away; there are none of those private box seats at Court 1. Coaching during matches is not permitted, but when Rybarikova played on the south end of the court, the Slovakian, without glancing his way, chattered loud enough for her coach to hear. He sometimes said something back.  After the match, I slipped back through the door, down the dark stairs and back into the flow of the crowd. I turned east and walked about 100 steps, through a guarded gate and out of the grounds. The greenhouses are part of a botanic gardens, and a few families strolled the paths, unaware or uninterested in the tennis played nearby.  In a few years, one of those paths will lead to a new stadium, as the French Open stretches out while staying in Paris. The mayor on Friday promised that the grounds will be more beautiful in 2016 than they are today, and he may be right. But they are sure to lose my favorite seat in sports.
At Court 1 at the French Open, the media seats are so close that you can tap a line judge on the shoulder