On Centre Court at the Australian Tennis Open (left), Children playing in fountain (below)

Tennis days, Melbourne nights
By Stan Morse
January 27, 1998

Temperatures soared towards 100 degrees this week. But a cool wind out of the southern sea (what locals call "The Change") swept through late yesterday. As Martina Hingis eked out a Centre Court win over Anna Kournikova, it was a dry 75 degrees. With the heat abated, it was perfect weather to enjoy a glass of champagne, a latte from the espresso cart, or a fresh-baked chocolate-filled croissant.

My daily routine has become simple. After watching the balls fly, I dine out, then return to the house and struggle to find the best words for these articles and for the book, then watch the night games on television.

Tonight, Australia's strongest hope for victory on the men's side -- 1997 U.S. Open winner Patrick Rafter -- is playing Spaniard Alberto Berasategui. As I type, I occasionally glance at a small b&w tv on the desk in my room, following the game. Rafter's passing shots and net game are working, and the Aussies are crazily cheering each point he wins. He takes the first set.

Unfortunately, Rafter eventually loses in four sets. Only Australian hopefuls Richard Fromberg and Mark Woodforde now remain in the tournament. If they fall -- and that is likely -- perhaps the fans will adopt the revitalized Andre Agassi to carry their emotional banner. And then, there's always Pete Sampras. The possibility of an Agassi-Sampras final looms like a public relations fantasy. For the daytime tennis, I usually leave the house around 10:00 a.m. The morning train from Caulfield South takes 20 minutes to reach Richmond Station; from there it's a 10-minute walk to the tennis center.

Today, the train was packed. It's Saturday, and Melbournians came out in strength to purchase the $15.00 grounds passes for the outer and show courts. With one, you could have seen Venus and Serena Williams (who won) playing doubles, or Michael Chang (who lost) playing singles. The more-expensive Centre Court passes are long-gone, sold out weeks (or for the weekends, months) ago . . . unless you are fortunate enough to be disabled.

Being in a wheelchair has this advantage. They allocate several Centre Court seats for wheelchairs-only. Because they have sold slowly to the disabled population, I've been able to buy tickets this past week and to pick and choose those days I want a Centre Court pass. There is shade inside the retractable-roof stadium, and the best players are scheduled to appear in that venue, so it's the place to be if you can get there.

Saturday turns into a short day of tennis. Agassi obliterates his opponent (6-2, 6-2, 6-0) in one hour and seven minutes. Hingis takes only slightly longer, but the match is very close -- the three-set duel could have easily gone to Kournikova.

I'm glad the tennis went quickly, because I'm "recovering" from a late dinner last night, with a friend at "South Bank" on the Yarra River. There are dozens of first-class restaurants in this fashionable area of downtown Melbourne, built up along the muddy water of the Yarra. I had a crab Caesar Salad, Champagne, and was barely in bed by midnight.

Melbournians love their nights -- especially when the days are hot. In the cool of evening, the clubs and restaurants of South Bank fill up quickly with well-dressed revelers. Out come the jazz and rock bands, the buskers and solo musicians, and the party's on.

It's also a time when families go for a stroll along the boardwalk, children frolicking in the new fountain that looks like a courtyard until water jets begin to pulse from three circles of flush-mounted nozzles, and the colored lights flash to illuminate the continually changing patterns of water. Children dash in and out of the circles, soaked by unexpected bursts. Parents, towels in hand, wait patiently as their kids huddle sociably inside the temporary water prisons.

Tomorrow, I'm taking a day off from tennis, to rest, to write, and to go to the crafts market. But on Monday I'll be back at the Tennis Center for Sampras and Hingis and Agassi and Williams, and maybe . . . another glass of Champagne . . . with a strawberry.