A Grand Slam

The crowd in front of me watching the Men's Grand Slam
Championship of the Australian Open in Federation Square
in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.

So, Sunday rolls around as it usually does at the end of a weekend, but this is no ordinary Sunday. This Sunday, the 30th of January 2011, is the Men's Grand Slam Australian Open Tennis Championship, and being in Melbourne and a mere tram ride away from the tennis venue my roommate, Tony, said he was meeting his girlfriend (and my other roommate), Lina, and several of her friends in Federation Square (The main square of Melbourne and right next to where the Australian Open is being held) to watch the match and he invited me to accompany them. At this point I feel the need to pause and mention that the temperature outside on this day is 40 degrees Celsius, which translates into roughly, 104 degree Fahrenheit. Thus, you could probably understand my reluctance, but I enjoy the company of Tony and Lina, and being that I am in Australia and I made a decision a long time ago to try and embrace every opportunity given to me, I found myself a few hours later on a tram heading toward the architectural oddity known as Federation Square. We met Lina at the train station and all three of us went to a local pub where we had a lot of water. I had the fish of the day (which I am not sure what it was), and it was a good dinner, though I do not know if it was A$20 good. As I have tried to reiterate in the past, this is a very expensive country.

By 7 pm we had taken some of the free (and very uncomfortable) cardboard seats offered by the good people of ANZ bank and found some spots on the baking brick courtyard facing the giant plasma screen TV that adorns Federation Square. Within a short time, Lina's friends arrived and we managed to squeeze them into our small section, and I watched as they had their beer confiscated by security. They were very nice people and during the second set I even had an extended talk with one of them, who is an Indian-Australian banker in Melbourne, about the ideas of globalization, the banking crisis, the Obama administration, and how the regulation of the market is really a joke that allows several very rich people manipulate the system for their own benefits. (Sufficed to say he gave me a lot to think on... and be afraid of)

The game itself seemed interesting enough (though I have never had an undying passion for tennis). There were a lot of people holding British and Scottish flags and with face paint rooting for the player, Murray (who seemed very preoccupied with at yelling at his mother in the stands). A smaller section was waving a Serbian flag and was routing for Djokovic (which I am pretty sure was the name of the bad guy on the last Call of Duty). The game was interesting enough, and thankfully, not too long as Djokovic won it in three straight sets and there was no need to prolong it any further. It is not that I did not enjoy my time there or the game, it was just that I spent 3 to 4 hours sitting on an uncomfortable cardboard seat on a boiling hot brick pavement in 100 degree weather and surrounded by a couple thousand people. The Serbian supporters were very happy, but as for me I got a back cramp and a sunburn, but I can now say I went to the Australian open and watched from the cheap seats. How many people can really say that (well I guess a couple thousand).