Summer check-in: ASB Classic
Sport Review #309
Greetings, I trust your summer is going swimmingly. Please enjoy this brief dip, normal service will resume 31 January.
So, I am a bad tennis fan as I had only attended the ASB Classic once previously, having caught plenty of it on the telly from the beach.
It has to be said, the approach to the stadium is not one of the greats.
There’s no Melbourne-style pouring out of a pub onto a tram and along a boulevard to the venue here - Stanley Street is one of the worst thoroughfares in Auckland unless you are driving a truck, it’s all concrete, narrow footpaths and fumes. Ugh.
This is a Padel court, a new-ish racquet sport that people are trying to get happening here. Sport Review had a go, but failed to win the year’s supply of Manuka Honey. Kind of weird to have another whole sport set up inside your showcase event, but hey, at least it wasn’t pickleball.
Unfortunately, this was the view from my seat - there was a ticketing cock up, which was (kind-of) sorted thanks to some super work by the lovely volunteers in the Robinson Stand.
There’s certainly an ASB Classic caste system - it’s quickly apparent that the more you pay, the better your seats. Next year I’m booking early.
Local adjacent Cam Norrie was the morning’s main event, but he was… kind of rubbish? I’ve never liked his seagull like groundstrokes, and despite everyone willing him on, he managed to lose comfortably and hit someone in the crowd with his racquet. Not a great day for him.
I snuck to the outside courts to catch tennis hipster favourite Adrian Mannarino, the contrarian / shithouser who strings his racquet at an incredibly low tension and hits a mix of deadspin and softballs to frustrate his opponent into the ground.
He hung in to win the second set tiebreaker but then amiably melted down, pointing out issues with wind, reflections off the food shop roof and the (electronic) line calling system before bowing out of the tournament. Really enjoyable.
Outside court was sneakily preferential to the centre court - it’s obviously hellishly exposed to the sun, but you’re right up next to the action for a very different perspective, seeing the height and serious dip the players get on the ball, as well as a front row seat to all the swearing in French. Magical stuff.
The day was capped off by 38 year old Gail Monfils’ epic comeback from the dead. Despite the ticket snafu, it was one of the best sporting experiences I’d had in a little while, despite being a saddo for going on my own.
Keen to go back and do it again, even if it’s on at that awkward want to be at the beach / should be back at work time of year. Recommended.
Thanks for reading - Richard
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Love this - anyone who got a new cricket bat for Christmas will relate [RNZ]
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