Melbourne, Australia has got to be the sports capital of the Southern Hemisphere summer. Having kicked off the New Year with the World Matchplay golf event, despite its lacklustre field and attendance (the organisers mis-calculated the Australian's budget at 85 Australian dollars a ticket), the summer sporting calendar culminates in early March with the formula one Grand Prix, which does not lack in atmosphere or attendance.
Sandwiched between these two events there is no shortage of choice for the supporter of live sports, from Test match, mis-matched cricket between the Australians (they are too good for any opposition at the moment) and the West Indies to lesser golf events like the Victorian Open and the Australian Masters. And of course the first Grand Slam tennis event of the year is into its second week at the impressive Melbourne Park arena.
I sidled down to the home of the Oz Open for a day at "the tennis" (every sport in this country is preceeded by the definite article - as though is the ultimate in its field).
With live sport being endangered by the proliferation of televised events, a day at Melbourne Park would do a lot to lure the armchair sportsperson down to courtside. In the first week of the Open the trouble for the enthusiast is to decide on which match to watch, as easy as it is to move from court to court with a modicum of patience for the player interchange. Obviously at the bigger show courts you cannot take a seat during play.
Sport has always been accessible to the average Australian in their home country. With a ground pass for 20 Australian dollars or £10 (the organisers are in touch with the locals' budget) which includes a free tram ride to and from the centre of town, nobody is excluded by exorbitant pricing. Play starts at 10 a.m. each day, and the chances are you will be there until at least 6 p.m.. This gives you access to all courts except the Rod Laver Arena or Centre Court. The night matches require a separate ticket.
Naturally, with over 35,000 people passing though the gates each day, seats are at a premium, but if you are patient you will usually secure a place. Unless of course you want to see the goddess of the bright green court herself, Anna Kournikova. I wanted to catch a glimpse of her in her new gold and black January 2001 on-court ensemble (I'm sure there's a new colour combination for February) in a doubles game at the new Vodaphone Arena. When I finally got to the top of the queue, after a considerable wait, the restricted view was alleviated by a television screen showing the court action.
Along with the rest of the anxious queue (most of them teenaged boys, many in ice-hockey shirts - Anna seems to have a preference for ice hockey players) we were urging the opposition to drag the game out to 5-2 in the second set so there would be an end-change which would give us a chance to catch a live view of the famous Russian.
The opposition held out, won their service game and I got my first sighting of Anna from high in the Vodaphone arena. She looked small from my lofty perch. It was a quick game - four points later I was savouring the last sight of Anna's pig-tail bouncing round the alcove leading to the dressing room, as she signed about 50 autographs in under a minute. My Kournikova worship lasted about five minutes.
It was rudely interrupted by a mob of Vikings clad in yellow football shirts cutting a golden swathe through the post-Kournikova arena. They were heading to the Swedish enclave at the top of the stand where they huddled together. Magnus Norman was due on court next. It was the same mob I had seen on Court 13 chanting Thomas Johansson to victory against Italian Gianluca Pozzi.
The vocal support for their main challenger for this prestigious title was, like most aspects of the Nordic way of life, very organised. The devoted fans chanted religiously, and with impeccable timing so as not to incur the wrath of the umpire for disturbing the run of play. Naturally, they could have been calling the opposition an inept and inferior tennis player for all us English speakers could figure out, but they did so within the confines of acceptable Australian Open code of spectator behaviour. The policy in Melbourne is obviously more lenient than it would be in South West 21, when the grass Grand Slam is being contended for.
The shouting was not confined to the Swedes. The locals were equally vociferous if somewhat less lyrical, with repeated cries of "Aussie, Aussie Aussie" when there was a local on court. Jelena Dokic was excluded from the chants, having renounced her recently adopted country due to the "rigged" draw by the organisers which paired the Yugoslav with the number two seed Lindsay Davenport. Not even golfers are as fickle as tennis pros.
The Australian Open is truly an accessible and spectacular live event worth sweating over on a hot summer's day in Melbourne. As always the best seats in the reserved courts are those with the cushions on them awaiting corporate posteriors. For most of the day they lie unoccupied, until the occasional corporate bottom comes to claim its easy-chair. They wander in, fidget on their softened seats for a few games and retreat to their air conditioned hospitality box. Corporates, with only a passing interest in the main event, have hijacked tennis like every other sport. It is increasingly difficult to figure out just what the main event is in the modern sports arena.
