Australia at Last: Reflections on a first trip to the AO

It’s a bit of a maze, isn’t it?

That’s what a fellow media member said to me upon our maiden loop around Melbourne Park. It was Day 1 and we had arrived just ahead of first ball to get our bearings. While his English manner of speak put it far better than I ever could, I was in full agreement that the sprawling grounds do wind and bend. I took several more laps to get the lay of the land and appreciate the setting.

Because after more than 25 years covering tennis, I had finally made it Down Under. The Australian Open was the last remaining gap in my Grand Slam resume. Many of my colleagues in the industry have called the “Happy Slam” their favorite one. Needless to say, my excitement and expectations were sky high.

Could it live up to the hype?

Here are some thoughts after a first visit to the AO.

Getting to Australia is as grueling as advertised. Coming from New York requires more than a day of travel. The plane heads west, which, when you look at where Australia is on a map—all the way on the bottom right—seems like madness. Veterans of the trip told me whatever it takes to sleep on the way to Melbourne is a must because the flights are usually timed so that you arrive in town in the morning. However, it generally doesn’t work out that way on the return leg, and the jet lag is punishing. The first few days back Stateside, I felt hungover minus the fun part.

The upshot to being sequestered in a plane for the better of a day is you have ample time to binge any shows and movies on your watch list. To wit:

• Ripley is a meticulous, slow burn.
• House of Dragon is no Game of Thones, but still better than most.
• A Different Man takes a bananas U-turn at the end.

Being winter in the States, the Australian summer sun feels aggressive. I didn’t experience the four-seasons-in-a-day Melbourne weather—it was just hot. One of the mornings of my stay was cooled off with biblical rain, but otherwise the real feel was at least in the upper 80s. It’s comparable to the first week at Flushing Meadows. Sitting idly in the stands is more than enough activity to work up a serious sweat. Fortunately the tournament has a sunscreen sponsor doling out free sunblock, and the grounds are littered with misting and water stations and shady areas.

From a viewing perspective, Rod Laver and Margaret Court Arenas are big enough to create a loud, frenzied atmosphere, but not so cavernous that there’s a bad seat. John Cain and Kia Arenas are also worthy, but my favorite was 1573 Arena. The name comes from a Chinese distillery that is one of the tournament sponsors. It’s sunken into the ground and has a theater-in-the-round quality that’s reminiscent of the old “Bull Ring” court at Roland Garros.

It's required viewing to see an Aussie or a player with a vocal local following on one of the smaller show courts. Colombian Camila Osorio ousted Greece’s Maria Sakkari in three tight sets on Court 3, and it felt like an old Fed Cup tie. Both fanbases took turns waving signs, singing what I assume were national anthems, and being all kinds of raucous.

The downside to having reasonably-sized stadiums is not enough seating. Side court matches are jammed. At certain stadiums, spectators at general admission seats can actually leave to get refreshments or use the restroom, and their seats are held for them. So if a match is close, you’re not getting in. It doesn’t help that the Australian Open admits more visitors than any other major.

Which may be why the grounds have well-designed areas to loiter. The AO has a hangout vibe; tennis is center stage, but people are also there for a good time. It’s most apparent at the Grand Slam Oval. It’s a large grassy area set back between Rod Laver and John Cain Arenas that’s full of food, booze, huge screens and lots of shaded seating, making it a welcome respite from sitting courtside. Grab the fried chicken bao from Silkspoon, a Peach Melbourne for dessert and wash it down with an Aperol Spritz. There’s always music flowing, which adds to the festival atmosphere.

If you like tournament swag, the AO is just Ok. Polo and New Balance have their own stores to go along with the tournament-sponsored shops, but the overall selection is a bit lacking when compared to the other majors. Although if you do like quirkier keepsakes—like AO branded grill mitts—you’ll do just fine.

American movies and television lied to me—nobody says g’day. The people are still incredibly friendly, but I didn’t hear it uttered once. And Foster’s is nowhere to be found. I asked a journo from Sydney if he ever drinks the beer and the relationship basically ended right there. Tim Tam slams, however, are a real thing and highly enjoyable.

Melbourne is a coffee town. Many of the media members I traveled with had a list of spots they intended to sample. I’m not a connoisseur—I started each day with a basic long black—but Shortstop’s cold brew is exceptional, and their donuts are elite. If you’re looking for a sandwich to offset your caffeine fix, the Beef & Pickles at Hector’s Deli is formidable.

Even though it’s on the other side of the world, Melbourne often looks and feels like an American city. One of its real charms is the tournament is walking distance from the its central business district, numerous lodging options and fun spots along the Yarra River. If you want, practically all your transportation can be done on foot—there’s no need to deal with traffic or cramped subway cars. There’s even a free tram zone that covers popular destinations in town. It’s a highly navigable city with lots of nooks and side streets leading to retail shops, trendy restaurants or scenic rooftop bars.

Worth abn Uber ride:

• Melbourne Zoo—can’t leave Australia without seeing a Koala
• St. Kilda Beach—selfies at sunset
• Kooyong Tennis Club—the previous home to the Australian Open is like a museum to the sport

My time at the AO was limited to the first few days of the tournament. One of the more memorable matches I saw was Joao Fonseca’s upset of Andrey Rublev on Margaret Court Arena. Can’t-miss is a perilous and unfair label, but there was a buzz in the crowd that were watching the emergence of a future champion. Sadly, I didn’t get to see either of the eventual champions, Madison Keys and Jannik Sinner, strike a ball.

Guess that means I’ll just have to go back.