As you've probably heard, Novak Djokovic defeated Andy Murray yesterday to add yet another exclamation mark to an already remarkable career that, if it had to be put down in words, would be written in all caps. By tying Rod Laver and Bjorn Borg’s mark of 11 Grand Slam titles, Djokovic has proven that he isn't just an all-time great, but a candidate for the GOAT title too.
The Serb’s win marked the end of the 2016 Australian Open, and it goes without saying that the tournament was another resounding success, reaffirming why it is called the ‘Happy Slam’. The cloud of match-fixing that dogged the event early on was swept aside by a series of strong statements by the powers that be, who assured everyone that no stone would be left unturned in weeding out any and all corruption from the sport.
But if their intention was to put the crowd at ease and ensure they had a good time watching the play unfold, they needn't have bothered. By the end of the fortnight the sordid allegations were a distant memory, and the cheering and clapping from the fans were so full of life that Rod Laver Arena started sounding like a football stadium.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel an intense sadness at having to leave Melbourne and going back to my regular, non-Slam life. But all good things come to an end, and the most we can hope to do is learn from our experiences, and take back the happy memories. So here is a list, in no particular order, of the most memorable things I experienced during my time in Melbourne covering the Open.
Every pro looks better from the stands than on TV, but none more so than Novak Djokovic, Roger Federer and Serena Williams
I'll be honest, I didn't expect Djokovic to look unbelievably good in person. How impressive can endless running and counterpunching look, after all?
Shows what I know. The World No. 1, with his laser-like returns and eye-popping defence, is the very definition of a crowd-pleasing player. His reflexes are almost supernatural; some of the returns he slapped back off big serves by Federer and Murray in the last two matches literally took my breath away.
His backhand, as I've already spoken of earlier, is a force of nature. But what surprised me most was the quality of his other wing; Djokovic’s running forehand might well be the best in the business right now, even in a time when Federer and Nadal are playing.
To those who think that Djokovic is a machine-like supernova who has no weaknesses, you are right. But to those who think that that makes him boring or in any way less inspiring than Federer and Nadal, you couldn't be more wrong.
Djokovic's tennis has a unique, oddly satisfying appeal to it; watching just how far he can stretch himself before he turns defence into offence is, for some reason, incredibly soothing to the eye. Federer and Murray were left at their wits’ ends by Djokovic's seemingly unpiercable wall of strength, precision and speed, and I for one feel privileged to have watched the Serb in full flight.
Aside from Djokovic, most of the other players also looked better in person than on TV. Milos Raonic’s forehand, Maria Sharapova’s backhand, David Ferrer’s Energizer Bunny-like sprints and most of all, Federer and Serena’s very different brands of genius – all these sights will be imprinted in my mind for years to come.
Federer is justifiably celebrated for being the most elegant and unique player on tour: with him on the court, it's literally a thrill-a-minute affair. His continuous forward motion is a thing of wonder; the way he hits every single shot on the rise, looking to take control of every rally at the slightest opportunity, is something that I haven't seen in anyone else.
As you can expect, this brand of play makes for some spectacular points; even Federer's one-sided victories had us all on the edge of our seats. When Federer is on the court, anything can happen. Literally.
Serena was as impressive as I expected her to be, but she was still so much better than everybody else that I have to mention it here. It's easy to say that she is all power and nothing else, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
Her backhand technique is truly impeccable; in fact, it may have been the single most impressive shot I saw all tournament. Whether on the run, in a neutral position or in the middle of the court, Serena ALWAYS gets under it perfectly, conjuring anything that she wants with the shot.
Her crosscourt forehand is also of the highest order; she hits it almost as hard as the men, and a lot flatter. It's just the whole package with Serena; just like Djokovic, she has no weaknesses, and is head and shoulders above every other player on tour. Which makes Angelique Kerber's win so much more impressive.
The players are impossibly polite and unfailingly professional
I saw the players from up close dealing with their emotions on the court, and I also saw them dealing with uncomfortable questions in press conferences just minutes after their matches. But not once did I see anyone behaving in a manner that was in any way less than 100% professional.
Despite all the pressure, the high stakes, the intense spotlight, the players never lose control. Sharapova talks about being inspired by Serena despite losing her 18th straight match to her. Radwanska freely admits that she is nowhere close to the level of her opponent. Federer maintains his composure despite being told that he doesn't seem likely to ever defeat Djokovic again. Murray keeps his cool despite the crowd repeatedly shouting during points (it's another matter that Murray never keeps his cool towards himself). And Djokovic deals with the crowd cheering his errors like a boss.
They are always courteous and understanding when they talk, and they always look you in the eye when you ask them a question. They don't throw tantrums, they never act entitled, and best of all, they always find time to stop for a picture or an autograph.
Who says tennis needs its bad boys? It's much more pleasant and interesting this way.
The Australian Open is one big, boisterous party
When you enter Melbourne Park for the first time, it’s hard to make out whether you've entered a tennis venue or a party arena. There's loud music playing everywhere, people lounging and sunbathing on the grass, beer flowing all around; there's an unmistakable carnival-like vibe that is hard to shake off, even when you've gone inside any of the stadiums.
The ‘Australian Open Festival’, a dedicated area just outside Melbourne Park that serves solely to entertain the spectators when they're not watching the tennis, adds to the party atmosphere. There are food stalls, parlor games, amusement rides for kids, and all kinds of merchandise shops that would put any carnival to shame.
As I made my daily commute from Flinders’ Street Station to Melbourne Park, I had two options: I could walk through the Festival grounds which would take me an extra 15 minutes, or I could jump on the free tram that arrived at the station every 5 minutes. I chose to walk everyday.
The Aussie crowds know their tennis, and they are mighty vocal about it
I suppose the free-flowing beer had something to do with this, but there was no shortage of noise on the courts, even when the usual suspects like Federer and Nadal were not playing. Andy Murray had an army of supporters who sang creative tunes at each of his matches, and even Angelique Kerber had fans shouting encouragement all the time.
Of course, when Federer was on the court the roof threatened to cave in, but I must confess I was surprised at how much support the lesser-known players got. Johanna Konta, Shuai Zhang, Andreas Seppi – if you've ever heard of a player, you know the Australian Open crowd got behind them.
They never went too far with their cheers though. The Aussies are thoroughly knowledgeable about the game, and the umpire very rarely had to ask them to be quiet during points. They also understand the technicalities and the momentum shifts that are sometimes so hard to discern for the layman. They made the loudest noise at the most critical stages of every match, and shouted out the most expert advice imaginable that they thought would help their favorite.
“Break him now so you can serve first in the next set!”
“Don't hit an approach shot to his backhand!”
“She's nervous, just make her play an extra shot!”
I'm surprised the umpire didn't have to warn them for on-court coaching.
Everyone at the Happy Slam is happy to be here
From the first moment I stepped out of the Melbourne airport, I was taken aback at how genuinely warm everyone in the city was. That extended to Melbourne Park too, and it wouldn't be an overstatement to say that all mediapersons were treated a bit like royalty by the organizers.
The staff were all always ready to help, whether you wanted directions, were inquiring about timings, or were simply pestering them about an interview opportunity. And there was always a smile in place too; it seemed like they were in the service industry and were obligated to keep everyone happy.
Whenever I went up to ask anyone anything, before I could even say ‘Hi’ or ‘Excuse me’, they would smile and ask “How are you doing today?” The first few times I could do nothing but mumble something incoherent in return; it took me a while to get used to it.
The security guards were also always pleasant and welcoming despite having strict instructions to ensure no one got in without permission, and they always made it a point to say “Have a good day!” when you left. Most of the players in their on-court speeches said that this is the most player-friendly tournament in the world, and I can see where they are coming from.
Winning and losing are both part of the game, and they bring out the strongest emotions in the players
Two things in particular will stand out from my Melbourne trip: Kerber’s victory speech after defeating Serena, and Murray’s runner-up speech after losing to Djokovic.
For Kerber this was brand-new territory, so it wasn't entirely surprising to see how overwhelmed she got. But as she took to the mic after pulling off the impossible, it was all we could do to not join her in the waterworks.
Winning a tennis match, let alone a Grand Slam, takes a mountain of effort, conviction and discipline. And when the opponent is Serena Willams, it takes all of that multiplied by 100. Kerber had done it, and as she stood there a few feet away from us, with a million eyes on her for the first time ever, it was easy to see why she got choked up. This was the pinnacle of the human spirit, and a triumph of everything that's good in this world.
“It seems a little crazy!” was how Kerber described the moment, and it was the kind of crazy that truly moved you.
For Murray, it was exactly the opposite of brand-new territory, in case you missed it. Finishing as the Australian Open runner-up five times can't be fun for anyone, and this wasn't the first time that the Scot had let the tears flow after losing in Melbourne. But while in the earlier case it was all about finishing second-best, this time it was about something more; something greater than himself.
We tend to forget that tennis players are, at the end of the day, ordinary people with regular families and homes. Some of us may have laughed about Murray announcing that he would leave the Australian Open midway if his wife Kim went into labor, but the way the Scot fought both his on-court opponents and his personal worries was no joke.
The stress showed on the World No. 2 throughout the tournament, particularly so when Kim’s father was hospitalized during Murray’s fourth round match. He said that he had his bags packed and ready to leave if Nigel Sears’ situation worsened, and while that didn't happen, it would have been humanly impossible for him to focus 100% on tennis during the tournament.
That he still kept winning, and still gave Djokovic a match in the final, has proven once and for all that he firmly belongs in the league of champions. But doing all of that, and then having to talk about it during the presentation ceremony, was too much even for a great fighter like him.
Murray broke down when he came to the part about Kim, and he seemed on the verge of tears again at the hurriedly arranged press conference after the match. The media coordinator strictly warned us to keep the questions short since Murray had a flight to catch in an hour, and we had no intention whatsoever of keeping him waiting.
Murray may have lost the 2016 Australian Open final, but he has well and truly won at life. The sight of his tears at the presentation ceremony may well be the most important lesson I'll take back from Melbourne.
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