7 Reasons To Watch The 2010 Australian Open
1. The Men. All the big guns are there. Nadal isn’t moaning about his back. Federer isn’t crying. Del Potro has stopped growing. Murray has smiled a couple of times. It should be a classic. It probably won’t be, but it should be.
2. The Women. The most popular Belgian exports since Tintin and Snowy will be taking part. That’s right, it’s Miss Henin and Miss Clijsters. You can decide who is who. What a relief it is to have someone other than a Williams or a player whose surname ends with the letter ‘A’ to watch.
3. Goodbye Aussie, Goodbye. That’s to the tune of ‘Let’s go Aussie, let’s go’. I suppose you could do the latter, you just need to shout ‘Home’ afterwards. The state of tennis is Australia is horrendous. I mean it’s almost as bad as it is in the UK. And that’s bad. But at least in Andy Murray, the UK has a chance. Even if that chance would rather win for Scotland or Murrayville. Australia’s hopes remain with Lleyton Hewitt – a man who would probably struggle to beat me while I prance around pretending to be Greg Rusedski – and Samantha Stousr – a lovely girl, but not one who will make it past the 4th Round. It’s great!
4. Two Weeks. Two weeks is a nice time for a tournament. Not too long, but long enough to get us out of January. It hasn’t been a great month for anyone really. It just got worse for me. My toast landed butter side down.
5. Sex Appeal. I don’t care what you say. I am shallow. Female tennis players are hot. The good news is that Australia is also hot and so they may entertain the idea of wearing fewer clothes. I suppose the men might do it too. Not that I understand why anyone would care.
6. Commentary. I am not sure how I’m going to do it, but I must find myself a feed to watch a couple of the 1st Round match-ups. Not because they’ll be classics, but because the commentators are going to be stuttering and spitting all over the place. And as long as they are not spitting over me that sounds like fun. Phillip Krohlschreiber v Horacio Zeballos. A complete mouthful. Then we have Kimikio Date Krumm v Yaroslava Shvedova. Seriously, who names their daughter ‘Date’?
7. Women’s Final. This year it will last more than twenty minutes. I promise. Last year’s final was so quick that by the time one of the ball boys had retrieved a stray ball, Safina was already taking her make-up off. This won’t happen again. If it looks like an even remote possibility, the organisers will deploy their streakers. A reason to watch in itself.