Chicks, Czechs, Beers And Sets

In a tradition dating back to a Marat Safin's stirring fourth round victory over the great Pete Sampras, back in 2001 or 2002, my sisters and I have bought tickets for the second Monday night on centre court. The theory is that it's the last night before prices start spiralling, but still with a high quality matchup. Last night's Rafael Nadal/Andy Murray encounter lived up to the traditional billing.

I knocked off work early to beat the peak hour Punt Rd standstill (successfully, although Springvale Rd was hardly a breeze) and roamed the grounds of Melbourne Park, Heineken in hand. The vocal Czech "Berdych Army" were out in force, with 11 of them game enough to do a little body painting to explain who they were. Nikolai Davydenko had a little support too, but mainly from Aussies who couldn't resist paraphrasing Mike Williamson's famous commentary of the Jesaulenko mark: "Davydenko, you beauty!" Nice.

Three or so games later, it was off for a wander around the back courts, more Heineken and then to show court 2 for nearly a set of Daniela Hantuchova in the doubles. Also nice. Sure, I saw Maria Sharapova on centre court later, but from the second tier of Rod Laver, it's not the same. Plus I'd met up with Claire and Erin by then.

The Sharapova match was pretty decent, lasting over an hour and a half (a rarity in women's tennis) even though it was straight sets (regulation in women's tennis). Sharapova was nearly as good as my fifth Heineken. At $6.30 for 425ml, my wallet was useful, but took a beating. You know what else was useful but took a beating? Andy Murray.

I cheered on the young Scot, seeded 15, to upset Spain's Rafael Nadal, seeded 2, with mixed results. Murray looked nervous at times, but hit a stack of cross-court backhand winners and a few big 'uns on serve, interspersed with the precise volleying you'd expect from a guy who's won through to at least the third round of Wimbledon both years he's played.

It looked as though Nadal would win the third set to go 2-1 up, and I would go home, but Murray turned it around to snare the third. Soon Nadal regained the upper hand, and some daft chicks started screeching for Nadal every point, after they'd gone unnoticed and unheard until then. They stared at Nadal every time they did it too, like he'd look up (into the second tier? Come on!), wave to them and propose. I considered doing the same - if by wave to them means showing them my backhand across their face and by propose meaning deliver the proposition that they shut the Federer up.

No happy endings as Nadal won the match, nearly sweeping Murray 6-1 in the fifth, rather anticlimactically. Beer had long been replaced by coffee. By then it was 1:50 am - and hanging around to see a memorable upset turned into a bonehead idea considering two of us had to work. But all's well that ends well: I turned up to work and still have the ability to write a semi-coherent blog. Hurrah!