Tennis: Hot stuff at the Open courts but that roof is pretty cool

By TERRY MADDAFORD in MELBOURNE

Martina Navratilova may well be right. It is madness and too damn hot to play Grand Slam tennis in Melbourne in January.

Really, it is too hot to do much in the Victorian capital in such sweltering conditions.

It is okay for the big names at Melbourne Park. They get looked after.

As the temperatures creep to 40C and beyond, as it did on Saturday when the Williams sisters made it look like they were serious about the women's final, the bosses simply roll the roof across.

Amazing, really.

It takes just 25 minutes to shut out the world and create an almost eerie sensation of a Clayton's tournament - a supposed outdoor tournament being played in the cosy confines of an indoor stadium.

Sensible, that.

Given five hours' notice, the people who make these decisions turned on the air-conditioning and tamed the blistering heat to produce conditions where everyone - players, officials and the almost-capacity crowd of around 14,000 - enjoyed the occasion.

Just across the way at the Melbourne Cricket Ground there was no such luxury as the 23,107 faithful fried in 44C and 11 players masquerading as the English cricket team did their own Kim Clijsters impersonation of a Greg Norman choke in somehow conspiring to lose the second final of the one-day series.

But I digress.

While those lucky enough to play in the Rod Laver Arena, or the slightly smaller Vodafone Arena, can watch the roof being wheeled across, there is no such respite for the mere mortals on the 19 outside courts at the massive complex.

I was no great shakes on a tennis court.

The ace I served playing for MAGS' second team against St Paul's 30-something years ago (I'm not sure who got the biggest shock, him on the receiving end or me) remains the humble highlight of a brief encounter of the racket kind.

But I do know that playing such a demanding sport in Melbourne at this time of the year is madness - some contend downright dangerous.

However, the elements do not have complete control.

Rescue comes in the form of the WBGT - the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature, a heat-stress reading.

It's a combination of the ambient temperature, humidity, intensity of solar radiation and wind speed.

These factors combined reflect the ability of an individual to lose heat whether sitting still or exercising.

Really.

In simple terms, the WBGT combines with the EHP (extreme heat policy) which can then be used to sway the tournament referee to suspend matches (on the outer courts) or call for the closed roof on the aforementioned arenas.

The hardy people of Melbourne seem somewhat oblivious to the soaring temperatures, even if they are reminded of some of the associated dangers by looking skywards to see their city enveloped in a smoky haze day after day.

There are benefits for some.

As the tournament's official suppliers, the Heineken beer people do all right, thank you.

Before the Williams' had taken to the court on Saturday, the thirsty had already quaffed 1250 50-litre kegs - shipped in from Auckland - and untold bottles of the brew.

Thirsty stuff, watching this tennis, especially if you are happy to pay A$15 ($16) at the gate and simply sit around Federation Square and watch the action on a giant video screen.

The atmosphere is amazing.

During the two-week, season-opening Grand Slam, more than half-a-million people went through the gates and along Tennis Walk, past the bronze busts of all the Australian greats.

The fans joined 1240 media people in watching almost non-stop action from the world's best over the fortnight.

They also fought an incessant war with the flies - at least someone or something was not at odds with the heat - and happily paid A$13.95 ($15) for a programme that was up there with the best.

Returning, briefly, to the women's final.

There were fears "daddy" Williams would tell Venus to back off and let little sister complete her much-touted "Serena Slam."

Dad Richard was nowhere to be seen, but mum did pop in for a time to watch her daughters play as if they did actually mean business. They did that pretty darn well.

In another of their power games there were some good rallies, some aces, double faults and a dollop of unforced errors as, for two hours and 22 minutes, they played for their share of the tournament's A$18.18 million in prizemoney. Little sister picked up A$1.12 million. Venus made do with A$560,000.

Andre Agassi and Rainer Schuettler turned up yesterday to play for the same sums.

There was the usual raft of questionable calls, but generally it was, as expected, a match played in good spirit.

The ball kids - recruited last March-April and in training since October - were very good.

Everything proceeded in the way a well-managed, professional show should.

There was a laugh or two from the sisters and some good-humoured banter from the crowd.

The fear is now that having contested the last four Grand Slam finals, the Florida-based sisters are set to do it again and again.

That would not do much for women's tennis just as the England cricket team whom I watched crumble later in the night - in front of a much more enthusiastic, parochial crowd at the "G" - aren't going to do much to make the Ashes a contest in the foreseeable future.