AO 2025

This weekend we flew down to Melbourne to attend the finals of the Australian Open. The AO, as it likes to be known, but without the little horizontal part of the A. I imagine they paid some branding experts a lot of money to remove that little line. Our flight was full, what with the tennis being on and, as it turned out, included an opportunity to do a bit of celebrity spotting.

It’s funny how people get excited about seeing celebrities going about their everyday lives, but I get it, I do too. Last year, on a flight from Dubai to Manchester, Sir Alex Ferguson was sitting in an aisle seat as I made my way past him wearing a Spurs t-shirt. I could tell he spotted my allegiance by the pitying look on his face. On our flight to Melbourne Tracy was in front of me, as we proceeded down the aisle, and turned to give me one of those expressions that says, ‘look who I’ve just spotted’. At that moment, my eyes fell on an instantly recognisable face. None other than the greatest batsman in Australian cricket history and third highest all-time test match century maker, Ricky Ponting, or ‘Punter’ as he is affectionately known. That little buzz of excitement I got whilst being in the presence of greatness was only enhanced by the realisation that I had a wife with such sporting knowledge as to realise the greatness of the man before I pointed him out. “Did you see her?” she asked as we arrived at our seats. Her? Was this some kind of a joke? With Trump only this week passing executive orders that could be interpreted as meaning we are all female (apparently, we all are at the point of gestation), was Tracy trying to be clever? “Gladys!’ Tracy exclaimed, having spotted the former Premier of New South Wales sat in the same row as Punter! Tracy had no idea of the sporting legend in our midst, who she admitted she wouldn’t recognise if she fell over in the street. I consoled myself that at least I have a wife who can spot a disgraced politician, if not a living legend of the sporting world. The incident prompted a discussion between us about the hierarchy of celebrity status. I suggested that the greatest batsman in the history of the nation definitely outranks a ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ politician, which Tracy thought was a bit harsh. And I hadn’t even mentioned the Independent Commission Against Corruption finding against her!

Last year I wrote a tongue in cheek blog post about our first visit to the AO, which I styled as a commentary on Melbourne’s global standing. The rivalry between Sydney and Melbourne is fierce on the East Coast of Australia, I pointed out. For the rest of the world the image of Australia is of Sydney; the harbour, the bridge and ‘the House’. Melbourne, I pondered, what’s the point?

Well we discovered what the point of Melbourne is. And it’s tennis. A tennis point! For two weeks each year the city comes alive, basking in a brief period of global significance. A kind of collective madness descends on the place and perfectly sane looking people decide that $200 for an AO (without the little line) branded Ralph Lauren Polo shirt is a good value purchase. Their polo’s normally retail at $140, so that’s an extra $30 per letter (or partial letter) for the AO logo, which they appear to have mainly spent on advertising to induce you into the purchase in the first place. It feels like a microcosm of the whole branded clothing madness that the world is caught up in.

The relationship between Melburnians and Sydneysiders is a bit like that between the Scottish and the English. In each case the former feels a passionate rivalry with the latter, who remain ambivalent in the smug confidence of their self-pronounced superiority. One Melburnian responded to my post by pointing out that his city does not only come to life for two weeks a year when the tennis is on, it also has the Formula 1 Grand Prix! Indeed, he’s right, Melbourne enjoys two weeks and four days of global relevance.

Unlike Wimbledon, we were able to buy tickets for the finals without having to a) enter a ballot, or b) take out a mortgage for corporate hospitality tickets. The trick is to simply find out when the tickets go on sale, log on to a Ticketmaster account (or two in our case) and be ready at the allotted time. The on-line queue is randomised at the point that the tickets are released, and you wait your turn. With mine and Tracy’s laptops both fired up and ready we bought tickets for the men’s and women’s finals and made a weekend of it.

Rod Laver is both an old man who sits and watches the tennis and the name given to a fabulous sporting venue. The man gets his own arena to watch the sport in because he is such a loved Australian icon. How cool is that? Rod himself is so cool that this year he couldn’t even be bothered to turn up. They built an arena in his honour, laid on one of the top four tennis tournaments in the world and he simply tells Tennis Australia “nah mate, not this year”. Turns out he’s such a passionate Australian that he lives in California.

The less loved and somewhat controversial Margaret Court gets her own arena too. In the Rod Laver there are male toilets, female toilets and ‘all gender’ toilets. We didn’t go into the Margaret Court Arena but I’m wondering if they have the same there. And if you don’t know why I’m making a point about wondering that you could Google her name and the word ‘transphobia’.

Last year’s Women’s Final was between a Belarusian and a Chinese. With both country’s led by tyrannical regimes it was difficult to know which to support. We decided to get behind the Belarusian, Sabalenka, and were rewarded with a victory. This year’s Women’s Final was between the same Belarusian and an American. With both countries’ again led by tyrannical regimes we decided to go with the underdog. 19th seed American Madison Keys took advantage of some uncharacteristically error laden play by Sabalenka to take her first grand slam victory. In the Men’s Final it was less of a geo-political quandary, more one of personal ethics. Italian Sinner lives up to his name with a performance enhancing drugs charge hanging over him. Not to be outdone, his German opponent Zverev has two domestic violence accusations against him. On balance the German was perhaps the greatest sinner but there was no doubt who was the better tennis player. The Italian ran out an easy winner in three sets.