The US Open has always promised spectacle. In 2025, it engineered something more valuable: time spent. Across Fan Week and the main draw, sponsors rethought what it means to “show up” at a major event, trading static signage for services, scenes, and stories that travel far beyond the baseline.
AI That Works Like a Feature, Not a Slogan
The shift was visible the moment fans opened the official app, where IBM’s new Match Chat and AI-driven highlights condensed hours of play into personalized, must-see moments. Rather than bolt AI onto coverage as a novelty, the tournament utilized it as infrastructure, building a faster and more intuitive companion that rewarded both casuals and obsessives alike. The lesson was clear: the most effective “ad” is the feature that makes the product indispensable.
Hospitality Becomes the Brand’s Main Stage
If technology anchored the experience, hospitality set the tone. Airlines, automakers, and jewelers turned suites into brand theaters, each crafting a version of what premium now feels like at an urban mega-event. Emirates leaned into white-glove service that mirrored its flagship cabins, while Rolex and Tiffany & Co. curated spaces that felt equal parts gallery and clubhouse. Even outfitting became a narrative: Ralph Lauren, in its twentieth year, turned uniforms and customization into a ritual, reminding attendees that fashion had become a primary language of sport. As corporate guests, creators, and high-spend fans converged, the suite arms race became a proxy battle for brand taste and a moat against pure price competition.
The Cocktail Wars as Shareable Media
On the concourses, the most viral contest wasn’t between players but between cocktails. Grey Goose’s Honey Deuce once again commanded its annual queue of selfies and souvenir cups. Yet a credible challenger emerged in IHG’s Watermelon Slice, a winking, high-design serve that blended hotel hospitality with a courtside theater experience. By fusing a hospitality sponsor with a champagne house, it transformed a simple beverage into a status symbol and a compelling storyline. The metabolic truth of modern events is that food and drink are no longer amenities; they are media units, engineered for cameras, optimized for speed, and priced to be souvenirs. Every additional post became proof of concept.
Owning the Journey Beyond the Turnstile
Beyond the grounds, brands treated New York as a circulation system. Maestro Dobel’s airport takeover intercepted travelers before they reached Queens, while Heineken pushed a non-alcohol play through bold wallscapes and a stepped-up presence for 0.0. The choices reflected a broader pivot; sponsors are mapping the fan journey from subway to seat, from airplane aisle to suite bar, and inserting themselves where friction or boredom lives. Out-of-home is valuable again, not because of raw reach, but because it seeds the same story fans will encounter inside the gates.
Inclusion Produced Like a Main Event
Inclusivity matured from messaging to programming. Deloitte’s long-running backing of the Wheelchair Championships continued to elevate the competition with the same production values seen elsewhere, reinforcing that parity is a product decision as much as a marketing one. And while sun-safety booths and wellness activations might look humble next to caviar carts, they solved real problems for families and casual fans, quietly compounding brand affinity.
Retail That Extends the Rally
Retail and equipment partners played to their strengths with a city strategy that extended the event’s halo. Wilson’s pop-ups captured impulse demand and gave fans a tangible link to the play they’d just watched. Meanwhile, the official vehicle category leaned into experiential calm, positioning electrified luxury as a respite in the most kinetic sports environment on the calendar. In each case, the through-line was consistent: the best performances connected what people saw on court, what they held in their hands, and what they posted when they got home.
The New Math of Sponsorship
That convergence — tech as a service, hospitality as a stage, and food as content — reframed the economics of sponsorship. The spend didn’t simply chase exposure; it bought moments that could be measured in dwell time, opt-ins, and earned media. Big brands still won with scale, but the wins felt different. Instead of shouting the loudest, they designed the most replayable experiences and stitched them into a coherent journey. When that happened, the brand became the connective tissue of the tournament rather than a logo in search of attention.
Where the Ball Was Dropped
Not everything landed. Concepts that relied solely on celebrity sightings or a one-off photo wall struggled to break through the noise, especially when adjacent activations offered actual utility or a better view. The Open is not a good place for passive sponsorships anymore; the bar for participation is higher because the average fan’s feed is already full of polished content. If a brand didn’t offer a shortcut, a perk, or a point of view, it was easy to scroll past.
The US Open, in other words, has become a grand slam for brand design. Tennis provides the stakes; sponsors provide the context; fans supply the distribution. The winners this year earned relevance and proved that in a crowded attention market, the most valuable asset is an experience that people choose to carry with them.
