SOAPBOX: Welcome to the sport of screeching and pink tees
HAS anyone else been watching the Australian Open in a constant state of befuddlement?
I just have so many questions.
Can an athlete really make it in the tennis world without an elegant, exotic surname?
Why must there be a giant Rolex ticking away in the corner, when the usual digital clock would be easier for everyone?
Does screaming lend greater strength than a good old-fashioned grunt (I'm looking at you, Aryna Sabalenka)?
Never mind the actual rules of the game.
Usually when the game is over, that's it. Not so in tennis.
Winning a point actually earns you 15 points, until the towards the end of the game, when it's 10 points - but it's still essentially the same as if you'd earned 15 points.
And the lack of a time limit must be a nightmare for whoever schedules matches at these tournaments. Some blokes named Isner and Mahut once hogged a court at the 2010 Wimbledon Championships for more than 11 hours.
In any case, I feel horridly ill-prepared for our family trip to the Australian Open this weekend.
I like to think I'm not alone, and that's why people love to talk about what the players are wearing instead of analysing the play.
To be fair, that aggressive shade of pink Nike's pushing this year could actually blind an opponent and win a game.
As for Sabalenka, I'd probably scream too if I had to re-adjust my shirt after every point.