For eleven months of the year, Melbourne Park is open to anyone. In January, though, the 28 Plexicushion courts that make up this monstrous complex are off limits to the ticketless public. There’s a tournament to be played. From what I’ve been told, Melbourne Park is a wonderful place, combining a raucous party atmosphere with high-level tennis and sweltering heat.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to explore the grounds in person this year. My plan to stowaway in a cargo freighter destined for the Pacific fell through. The folks at the High Commission in Sydney weren’t thrilled with the idea – something about ‘legality’ and ‘diphtheria.’ Ah well. I would’ve missed not going to sleep anyways. The lure of the Australian Open, for me at least, is its ability to destroy one’s life thanks to a schedule that calls on viewers on the east coast to be up from roughly 8:30pm to 7:00am. Try explaining that to your boss/love interest/doctor.
It’s a tough sell, but as I learned last year, the first Grand Slam tournament of the year has an appeal that isn’t easy to overcome. Melbourne 2012 saw Novak Djokovic vanquish Rafael Nadal in a five set marathon, and we witnessed Victoria Azarenka win her first major, quieting complaints regarding her need to feign death after every shot. Grunting: a case for the mute button.
In addition to the guttural sounds of athletes and the crowning of champions, this is what you’ll hear and see over the next fortnight.
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Horacio Zeballos Jr. is not a star. He never will be. The 27-year-old Argentinian had appeared in one final prior to Sunday’s match and that was four years ago (he lost). Horacio made it to the second round of a Grand Slam three times. After winning the 2009 ATP Newcomer of the year award he sat at number 73 in the rankings.
