When you try to picture what a place is going to look like, it’s hard to accept that the reality is inevitably different, isn’t it? It takes a while for your mind to get rid of the image it had created and replace it with the real thing in front of your face.
Before coming to Melbourne, I had been told that the 10-minute walk from the press hotel to the grounds was nice, green, leafy, smelled good. For some reason I pictured a tree-lined path that cut straight through the city and led in a direct line from my hotel to the front gate of Melbourne Park. The truth, of course, was something slightly less glorious or singular. It is a nice walk, through a park, past the majestic cricket grounds where the 1956 Olympics were held, and the very cool flying statues of the nation’s great cricketers. It takes less than 10 minutes, and it does smell good. But it’s not the straight shot I pictured. Just like anywhere else, when you walk out of the hotel, there are all kind of directions and places you could choose to go instead—not every road leads to Melbourne Park. I guess we dream the world is made for us, and then we have to live with the fact that it isn’t.
Anyway, no complaints. At all. I love, for one thing, how close the sporting district is to Melbourne’s downtown. I could easily veer off the path and get right into its commercial heart. At night, in the city, you can hear the cheers from the evening session audience—they were massively loud when Jo-Wilfred Tsonga came back to beat Philipp Petzschner in five sets, in a match that I missed completely.
No, I mention this because after nearly a week in Melbourne, I feel like it’s time to get out all the stray thoughts and observations about the tournament and the trip while they’re still somewhere in my mind. While they're still searchable, you might say.
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Betting lines as of today (I don’t know what the dollar amounts mean, exactly, but I’m trusting you will):
Men’s title:
Federer: $2.50; Nadal: $2.75; Djokovic: $9; Murray: $10
Women’s title:
Clijsters: $2.75; Henin: $6; Wozniacki: $8; Zvonareva: $9; Stosur: $11
The hot bet right now is Petra Kvitova over Sam Stosur in the next round.
Should I be telling you all this?
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For the first time that anyone could remember, there were no takers anywhere in the world on a contest. No one was willing to put anything down on Marcos Daniel against Rafael Nadal. No one was wrong.
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Lleyton Hewitt is getting some stick for wearing colors resembling the uniform of his hated Aussie football squad, Port Adelaide. Apparently Rusty was once best mates with the Adelaide Crows Andrew McLeod, but they had a falling out that ended up in court. I guess you enter into a friendship with the highly litigious Hewitt knowing the chances are pretty good that you’ll end up in court someday.
Maybe Hewitt needs the money. One paper did a breakdown of the payment per point in his five-set first round loss to David Nalbandian, compared to the payment Dinara Safina received per point in her first-round double bagel loss to Kim Clijsters: Hewitt made $51.81 per point, Safina $294.
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Rafael Nadal is doing an “Ask Rafa” column for the Melbourne Herald Sun. He does these a lot. Here’s a sample Q & A:
Q: “Rafa, you are so calm on those tough points. Do you meditate?”
RN: “I am not sure what you mean by meditate. But I do think a lot about matches and points.”
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Bernard Tomic plays today, and a nation awaits. The kid is nobody’s favorite in the Aussie tennis world, and the coaches here aren’t afraid to say it. Here’s Roger Rasheed on Tomic:
“Some people say he’s Top 20. I can’t see it. It doesn’t ring a bell in my mind. Top 30, maybe.” He describes Tomic’s style as “junk tennis” and that he’ll “get found out pretty quick” by the pros.
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The young woman was crying so hard she could barely stand up. Her friends had their arms around her. She moaned, “Oh, he’s so beautiful.” Who had she just seen walk past? Fernando Verdasco and his father. I laughed imagining that she was talking about the gray and diminutive Hot Sauce, Sr.
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The shriekiest match of all time? The Venus Williams-Sandra Zahlavova epic from yesterday had to be up there. The sounds filled up Laver Arena. But according to a Brisbane “exercise scientist” this was a good thing. Grunting is smart, Dr. Michael Warburton told the Herald Sun, and young players should be encouraged to do more of it. “General screaming, shouting, and yelling would all be effective activities to start with to prepare a future Australian Open champion,” Dr. Warburton says.
Why am I spreading this news around?
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It’s always sad. The stadium is crowded; two seats together are hard to find. Then a group of kids spots the empty media section. They don’t know it’s the media section, and they can’t believe their luck. They file in, take over a whole row, and sit down smiling. I shake my head. I know what’s coming. The usher eventually finds them, just as they’re sitting back in their seats and putting on their sunscreen.
“Can’t sit there.”
“What, why?”
“Media.”
“Oh, man, but . . .” They point, quite reasonably, to all the empty seats surrouding them.
“Can’t sit there.”
They give me a collective dirty look as they shuffle out. I feel a little ashamed of my protected status, but also kind of happy they’re gone. You never know what teenagers are going to do next.
