The Voice Behind Coco Gauff's Practice Sessions

The air in Flushing Meadows hangs thick with the scent of cut grass and anticipation. Across the narrow walkway from Arthur Ashe Stadium, the roar of the main arena spills over like a tide, washing against the quieter practice courts. It is a backdrop of low-stakes energy, a prelude to the drama yet to unfold. But on a Tuesday afternoon, the rhythm shifts. A single voice pierces the ambient buzz, sharp and commanding, pulling the packed bleachers into immediate alignment.

Ayanna Campbell stands at the base of the stands, her posture rigid with purpose. She is not a player, nor a coach, but a guest services representative with a mission. As Coco Gauff approaches Practice Court No. 1, Campbell raises her voice, bridging the gap between spectator and athlete. The crowd responds in unison, a wall of sound that vibrates through the concrete. It is a moment of shared electricity, a brief suspension of the routine that defines the tournament's daily grind.

A Rhythm Born From Nostalgia

The chant is specific, rhythmic, and unmistakable. Campbell calls out, "Knock 'em down, roll 'em around, come on Coco, work," and the audience answers with a thunderous "Work!" The phrase is a direct lift from the 2000 film "Bring It On," where the Toros cheer for their team. Campbell, a self-described zillennial raised in Hollis, Queens, swaps the team name for the player's. The substitution works seamlessly, turning a pop-culture reference into a personalized anthem. It is a small act of creativity that resonates deeply with both the crowd and the athlete.

Campbell has been in this role for four years, and the technique is her specialty. She does not reserve the energy for one star alone. For Carlos Alcaraz, she had the crowd spell his name, letter by letter, a rhythmic drumroll of support. For the Williams sisters, the call-and-response was simpler but no less powerful: "When I say Serena, you say go!" The reactions from the players were immediate and visceral. Alcaraz offered a double thumbs up. Serena Williams bobbed her head in approval, while Venus broke into a small dance. These are not passive acknowledgments; they are participatory gestures, proof that the energy is a two-way street.

Emotional Support On The Sidelines

For Campbell, the cheer is more than a performance. It is a tool for emotional regulation. She recognizes that practice sessions can be isolating, times when athletes might feel the weight of expectation or the sting of a recent loss. The cheer serves as a pick-me-up, a reminder that someone is watching, rooting, and believing. It is a deliberate injection of positivity into the routine. The goal is not just to hype the crowd, but to lift the spirit of the player, to provide a moment of connection in the high-pressure environment of a Grand Slam.

Campbell works as a special needs bus matron during the day, a job that requires patience and care. The US Open offers a different kind of emotional labor, but the core motivation is the same: to make people feel seen and supported. She sees in Gauff, who is two years her junior, a reflection of her own potential. Gauff's success, particularly her recent Grand Slam win, serves as a beacon of hope. It proves that age is no barrier, that success can still be achieved in one's early twenties. This shared timeline creates a unique bond between the woman in the stands and the player on the court.

Digital Acknowledgment Of The Hype

The impact of Campbell’s work extends beyond the physical venue. Gauff, who reached the semifinals with a thrilling three-set victory over Mirra Andreeva, has taken notice of the support. After practice sessions, Gauff forms her hands into a heart shape, directing it toward Campbell. The gesture is a silent thank you, a visual affirmation of the connection. On social media, the appreciation becomes explicit. Gauff comments on posts featuring Campbell, writing "My queen! Love her" and "Werkkkk." These digital tributes highlight the reciprocal nature of their relationship, where the athlete acknowledges the specific effort of the fan.

According to GN sports/tennis (en-US), this dynamic is a testament to the evolving nature of fan engagement. It is no longer enough to simply watch; the act of cheering has become a collaborative art form. Campbell’s ability to mobilize the crowd, to turn a passive audience into an active participant, creates a unique atmosphere that fuels the player’s performance. It is a small, human detail in a massive machine, but it is the kind of detail that lingers in the memory of everyone present, a reminder that success is often built on the quiet support of those who stand on the sidelines.