This week, it seemed like everyone was talking about the tennis. Not as usual, where a few dedicated tennis fans talk about the merits of Novak’s drop shot or Rafa’s heavy forehand. These were conversations that started with “I don’t usually watch tennis, but…” and then a description of how great the match was.
People in all walks of life were complaining about just how tired they were because they stayed up until the final ball was struck at 1.30am (12.30am QLD time). Some even managed to keep their sagging eyelids open long enough to see Djokovic struggle to lift the weight of the trophy for the assembled mob of photographers at 2am. In fact, 4 million people in Australia alone watched the former and 1.4 million the latter. That’s nearly 20% of Australia’s entire population! How awesome is that?!
I love that the Australian Open has gotten people talking. Australia, like America, has recently had a bit of a hard time on the tour that it used to dominate. Greats (and serve-and-volleyers) like Rod Laver and John Newcombe just aren’t being churned out anymore. Instead, the country has Lleyton Hewitt (whom I have never been a fan of) and Bernard Tomic, who is making as much a name for himself by complaining about having to play late at night and hooning in his hideous, expensive BMW as he is about his fourth-round run at the Open.
I hope that all of this positive coverage of what two truly great athletes can do when put to the test will inspire a new round of Aussie kids to pick up their racquets and get out on the court. Tennis is a great game that you can play for life, and while it doesn’t entirely mesh with my love of travel (it’s a bit difficult to carry a tennis racquet in your backpack), I love the idea of it becoming a bit more mainstream.
Despite this, the final was a bit bittersweet for me.
Yes, I enjoyed the thrill of watching the entire 6-hour match (minus a few minutes in the fourth set when I dozed off, only to be woken by the crowd screaming as Rafa broke). Yes, I couldn’t help but be happy for an exultant Novak Djokovic as he raised the trophy for the second year in a row. Yes, I had a huge grin on my face listening to Rafa’s gracious acceptance of the runner-up plate.
But there was a niggling feeling behind it all. Why hadn’t I gone to the Australian Open this year? What if something happened that meant next year, in my 5th year in Australia, I still wouldn’t get a chance to go to this tournament that’s been on my bucket list since I was 11?
Last year, I had to cancel my trip to the Australian Open because of the Queensland floods. While the floods had well and truly passed by the time my flight was booked to leave, I had three main problems. The first two were in the form of infections that were probably contracted from walking around in toxic mud for a few days — a chest infection and a foot infection. The third was that I was moving and much more had been left to the last minute than I would have liked since we all had spent the previous weekend helping clean up after the floods. I would have been miserable sitting in the sun for two full days and I would have made the players miserable with my hacking cough, so I took advantage of Qantas’ offer to fully refund all Queensland-related flights and managed to sell off my tennis tickets just in time.
This year, my reasons for cancelling the trip were a bit more tenuous. I arrived back in Australia 4 days before I was supposed to leave for Melbourne, only to realise that I’d forgotten to buy my session tickets as I had planned to while I was away. I was congested and not feeling the best — possibly from going from -20C in Sweden to 30C and 100% humidity in Singapore. And to top it all off, my knee (which had a banged up meniscus before I left) was not holding together well after a fall on the ice in Sweden and lots of walking around Skellefteå, Stockholm, and Singapore.
Could I have made it? Yes. Would I have enjoyed it? Maybe. Would my knee have improved as much as it did after a weekend of sitting at home? Definitely not. So I called up Qantas and cancelled my flight (which they STILL have not refunded) and then watched the tennis from the comfort of my couch.
But then the thought popped into my head…why not just go to the men’s finals? My knee would have an extra week to heal by then, and I would only be going to one match rather than walking all around the tennis centre. So I looked up tickets, only to find that they had sold out (of course) and that I could go to the women’s final instead. After more searching, I found some tickets available for $450 on ViaGoGo. I ummed and ahhed, trying to decide if $450 was worth it for one single match. I tried to justify it by saying that I would have spent more than that on 4 individual session tickets the weekend before, but I just couldn’t convince myself that it would be worth it.
Boy, was I wrong.
Sure, I would have missed an entire night’s sleep trying to get from the match to the airport and then to work on Monday morning, but I still think it would have been worth it. This match will go down in history as one of the greatest matches that tennis has ever seen. Would I have given up a chance to go to the middle weekend next year to be a part of that? Yes.
And herein lies my message: if there’s a travel experience you want to have, and you feel like it may be a once-in-a-lifetime chance, just do it. Budgeting is important, but there are always other things that can give (hey, who needs to eat anyway?!). It’s better than living with the regret when you realise what you’ve missed.
In the meantime, I’ll be booking yet another frequent flyer trip to Melbourne for next January and hoping that the third time really is lucky!