You have to feel for all the singles players who lost in the first two days. They exit just as the tournament appears to be hitting its stride. At 2:00 on Wednesday the big cloud in the sky finally parted and made room for the sun we’d heard so much about it. It had an effect. Right around that moment, the grounds suddenly seemed more crowded and the fans younger and rowdier than they had been just a few hours earlier. The Aussie version of the Bieber 'do—it seems to grow a little wilder and greasier Down Under—had arrived in force, along with all the girls who love it. In general, the sun agrees with the people of Australia. They looked better today, even the jazz band in the kangaroo pants.
The sun also brought out a pent-up spirit of faux-tribalism, which is a staple element of the Australian Open, and which had been muffled by the weather. Fans like to dress in flags and national soccer jerseys and paint their faces, even if they have no obvious tie to a country or player. Out on the grounds, though, there was a faint and fleeting undercurrent of violence—or maybe it was just the desire to play at violence—in the air as well. Walking back from one match, a group of teenagers, all in the soccer jersey of a country I couldn’t identify, rushed up from behind saying, “Ethnic tension, ethnic tension, ethnic tension coming through. We’re ethnic.” It was a joke, though as they swept past, they bumped the woman next to me on the shoulder.
But that was a tiny edge to an afternoon of high spirits. And in the spirit of the snap shots I’ve been giving of Melbourne Park so far, here’s another of Day 3.
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Czech, Czech, Czech,
Czech, Czech, Czech
Czech Republic
Czech Republic
These words are being chanted to the tune of KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Shake Your Booty” inside Margaret Court Arena. The people doing the chanting are a group of 15 or so young Australian men and women wearing blue baseball hats and white and blue wristbands; the colors, I’m guessing, of the Czech Republic—the player they’re supporting is Tomas Berdych. The men in the group, who are all shirtless, have the Czech flag painted on their upper arms, and “Tomas” painted on their chests. The chants are amazingly well organized, especially for a group of people who seem to have no affiliation with the Czech Republic or the player at all.
He’s here
He’s there
He’s every-bloody-where
Berdych is playing Philipp Kohlschreiber. The points are less entertaining than the chants. Berdych and Kohlschreiber hit a similar ball, with lots of topspin, and neither employs a whole lot of variety. The German wins the first set, the Czech the second.
We love you Tomas
Oh yes we do
When you’re not with us
Then we are blue
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Caroline Wozniacki, women’s No. 1, arrives in the media interview room in a gray sweatshirt with a cross on her necklace. Her hair is pulled back. Typically if a player wins a match, he or she comes in looking at least reasonably comfortable. Wozniacki looks tolerant of the situation at best. She’s asked if her win today was a “No. 1 seed performance.” She jumps right into the answer as if she wants it to be over with as soon as possible. It’s over pretty fast. “I definitely felt like I was playing good tennis today,” she says. “I was playing aggressively. I was playing my game and I felt comfortable out there.”
Later she’s asked if she has higher expectations for herself now.
“If I win, great. If I lose one match, just get back on the practice court, work, and get stronger.”
Does she not feel the pressure? Or is she insulating herself from defeat? Either way, Wozniacki is not approaching this tournament as if it’s either a one-in-a-million chance or a referendum on her career. We’ll see if that attitude allows her to relax, or if it leaves her without the extra edge of motivation she might need.
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Tensions are high in Rod Laver Arena. It’s 5-5 in the first set tiebreaker between Andy Roddick and Igor Kunitsyn. Roddick does something he rarely does in these types of moments. He overhits a second serve long to make it 5-6. On the next point, Kunitsyn comes forward and hits a solid but not perfect approach. Roddick lunges to his left and comes up with a crosscourt backhand pass. It surprises Kunitsyn, and he nets the volley. 6-6. On the next point, Kunitsyn goes for too much on a forehand approach. It hits the tape. Roddick wins the tiebreaker, and the match in straight sets.
If you want to know why Roddick has remained in the Top 10 for nearly a decade, there’s your microcosm. He shakes off a double fault. He has the competitor’s cussedness to come up with the passing shot when it looks like he’s out of the point. And it’s his opponent, not him, who drills the forehand error at 6-all. It’s not spectacular, but that combination adds up to a lot of wins.
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Justine Henin, who is making her second comeback in a year, also arrives for her press conference in a sweatshirt. But even in something so ordinary, she seems to exist on a plane removed from the rest of us. Not in a bad way—Justine has a mysterious Continental soul.
Asked if her easy second round was a “better” match than her first, which she very nearly lost, Henin takes the philosophical tack. “Well, it was a different match, I would say.”
She’s asked later if she feels “well placed” to win the tournament.
“I don’t want to look too far, just live day after day.”
Do you notice rankings and seedings next to your name?
“Ranking, I never think about ranking.” What does Justine think about, you might wonder. Does she watch TV?
After the English questions have been answered, the Belgian and French journalists gather around her to ask their own. As they circle, Justine wrinkles her nose as if she’s smelled something bad.
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Robin Haase, with his curly puff of hair, white sneakers, and thin calves, looks more like a high school tennis player than a pro. He’s one of the few who are smaller in person than they appear to be on TV. The Dutchman is out on Court 8 facing Juan Monaco of Argentina. Their respective cheering sections are also facing each other across the court. When one group pulls off a successful cheer, the others stand to applaud. None of Monaco’s supporters look like they’ve been within 5,000 miles of South America, but they’re passionate and clever nonetheless.
Haase appears to be being beaten from rally to rally, but he somehow stands at set point for a two-set lead. He’s a talent who has been sidelined for the better part of two years with injuries. There’s a clean, thin, easygoing, old-fashioned appeal to his game and his demeanor. Now, on set point, the match in his hands, he wants to wait for Monaco to miss, but he also doesn’t want to give him a short ball. It’s the eternal tennis balancing act: Draw an error and he’s shown patience and intelligence, but if Monaco hits a ball past him he’ll be called a coward in the clutch. Haase solves the problem by taking a forehand and belting it for a crosscourt winner himself. He wins in four sets.
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We are the army
The Berdych army
Tomas Berdych is serving for the match, and his supporters are on their feet in ecstasy. They’re chanting the above words to the tune of “You are My Sunshine.” After a few struggles, Berdych holds. It's over. He hits a ball up toward his new friends, and bows in thank you. As the other fans file out, they hear:
If you love Tomas Berdych and you know it
Hug your mate
If you Tomas Berdych and you know it
Hug your mate
If you love Tomas Berdych and you really want to show it
If you love Tomas Berdych, hug your mate