Grey Goose. Fresh lemonade. Raspberry. Three honeydew spheres against the New York twilight. The cocktail that owns the US Open sold 738,459 cups last summer — one every 1.5 seconds — and it's back this week.
BARSYSThe vodka the drink was born with, over ice, in a tall cup.
Grey Goose · 37 mlSqueezed, never bottled. Keep pouring — the glass knows where this is going.
89 ml · 3 ozRaspberry, poured last. It falls through the lemonade and paints the famous gradient.
Raspberry liqueur · 15 mlThree frozen honeydew moons on the pick. The ice, the garnish, the photograph.
× 3 · frozen · the dropYou just built one in four moves. At the stadium, this exact drink is $23 — after a 45-minute line.
Keep scrolling — the story's better than the lineEvery great sporting event has a drink. Wimbledon has its Pimm's; the Derby has its julep. But only one cocktail sells three-quarters of a million cups in a fortnight, retires its own collectible cup every September, and draws a line longer than most tiebreaks. This site is about that drink.
Late August, Flushing Meadows: the last major of the year and New York's biggest annual party. Eight-hour visits, day heat, night lights — the conditions that made a signature cocktail inevitable. Since 2007 that cocktail has one name, served in a cup printed with every past champion — kept as shelf trophies, traded by vintage.
2006. Grey Goose asks restaurateur Nick Mautone to invent a serve for its new tournament partnership. Scooping honeydew one afternoon, he sees tennis balls on a spoon. The garnish becomes the drink; the name plays on 40–40. A phone call and a melon baller created the most successful signature cocktail in sport.
Three honeydew spheres, frozen, on a pick — the ice, the garnish, and the reason every phone in the stadium comes out at golden hour. The kitchens prep close to a million spheres a fortnight. Some nights, with the queue at 45 minutes, they still run out.
Round and soft off the top — the wheat does that — with a gentle almond-and-citrus brightness and a long, clean finish. It's why the Deuce works: the vodka carries the lemonade instead of fighting it, and lets the raspberry paint the finish. Serve it cold. Freezer-door cold.
Two decades courtside made Grey Goose part of the tournament's furniture — the cup in every golden-hour photo, the pour behind 738,459 cups a summer. The Deuce is called a status symbol and a fashion accessory in the same breath; the spirit underneath is why the ritual holds up when the cameras leave.
In the Deuce: 37 ml, poured to the light, first into the cup — the base spirit sets the drink's spine. Keep the bottle cold, never the glass warm, and never drown it: the classic's balance lives at 1.25 oz. Below, the three ways the house pours this fortnight.
Grey Goose calls Nick Mautone. The brief: a signature serve for the US Open. The answer arrives on a melon baller — honeydew spheres that look exactly like tennis balls.
The Honey Deuce debuts in the first collectible champions cup. Roughly $12 then. Nobody predicts what it becomes.
~$15 a cup and rising. The cup collection habit takes hold; vintage years start trading hands.
450,000 cups, ~$10M. Social media finds the drink. The queue passes 40 minutes.
556,000 cups, $12.8M. The tournament installs cocktail taps to fight the line. It helps. It does not win.
738,459 cups. ~$17M. +32% in one year. One every 1.5 seconds. A million spheres prepped; some nights they still run out.
The fortnight opens this week — and for the first time, the pour has a way home. Act V is below.
A record — up 32% in a single year.
At $23 a cup. The most valuable signature serve in sport.
One cup every one and a half seconds during peak sessions.
The famous concourse line. Part of the legend. Part of the problem.
The vodka the drink was born with. Over ice, in a tall cup.
37 ml · 1.25 ozSqueezed, never bottled — where home attempts go wrong.
89 ml · 3 ozPoured last; sinks into the famous pink-to-gold sunset.
15 ml · 0.5 oz · it sinks, let itFrozen overnight, skewered, lowered in last. The spheres are the ice.
× 3 · frozen · the dropProportions as published for the classic serve · gentle stir · ingredient cost at home ≈ $3.40 a glass · 21+, enjoy responsibly.
| The serve | The stage | Volume / yr | Price | Collectible |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| HONEY DEUCE | US Open · New York | 738,459 · ’25 | $23 | Champions cup · traded by vintage |
| PIMM'S CUP | Wimbledon · London | ~300,000 | ~£12 | — |
| MINT JULEP | Kentucky Derby | ~120,000 · race weekend | ~$22 | Souvenir glass |
| LEMON ACE | Australian Open | 100,000+ · year one ’25 | ~A$26 | Modeled on the original |
Ticking at the documented rate — one every 1.5 seconds during sessions. Editorial estimate.
Three per cup. The melon math never stops being funny.
You scrolled the pour at the top of this page. Shaker Pro does it for real — the same four ingredients, measured to ±1 millilitre by a light that tells you exactly when to stop. From Barsys, the people who made this site.
The "Courtside" recipe is live, free, in the Barsys AI app: Grey Goose to the light, lemonade, raspberry, gentle stir, sphere drop. Ready before the changeover ends.
$45 · less than two cups at the stadium · batch two shipping now
free US shipping · 30-day returns · 1-yr warranty
Grey Goose vodka, fresh lemonade and raspberry liqueur over ice, garnished with three frozen honeydew spheres on a pick — served at the US Open since 2007 in a collectible cup printed with past champions. The name plays on "deuce," tennis for 40–40.
Restaurateur Nick Mautone, on commission from Grey Goose in 2006. The idea struck while scooping melon — the spheres looked like tennis balls.
It sells roughly one cup every 1.5 seconds at peak, and until recently every one was built by hand. The tournament added taps in 2024; the line remains part of the ritual.
Yes — you scrolled the build at the top of this page, and the spec sheet is above. If you'd rather have the proportions handled for you, that's the one thing on this site we sell.
Barsys — the people behind Shaker Pro. We're not affiliated with the tournament. We're fans of the drink who got tired of the line.