MELBOURNE—Was I wrong all along in believing that Australia’s tennis Fanatics, those cheerfully rowdy men and women in yellow wigs and face paint, were funny? It seems that way. Or at least that’s what two of my favorite columnists Down Under, Patrick Smith and Richards Hinds, tell me. Earlier this week, Hinds said he struggled to comprehend the “relentless banality” of the Fanatics’ repetitive chants. Smith went one step further. He couldn’t be bothered to address the Fanatics themselves; instead, he saved his ridicule for those who found them amusing. If you laugh at their antics, Smith believes, you must be “numb in the brain.”
Coming from the U.S., where we’ve never evolved past, “USA!” and “Let’s go, so-and-so, let’s go!” the Fanatics always sounded, if not clever, at least ambitious. Now that I’ve heard their schtick for a few years running down here, I can see Hinds’ point. “That’s the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it,” after a winning Aussie shot does get a little old after you’ve heard it a couple hundred times.
Still, I’ve admired the Fanatics’ work ethic over a difficult first-week here, when there’s been so little for the locals to cheer. They bellowed themselves hoarse in 100 degree heat for hours, only to watch Aussie James Duckworth lose in five painful sets to Blaz Kavcic. They also managed to keep things fresh with very limited material. Early “quack” sounds turned to “duck, duck, goose,” and eventually gave way to a stirring chant of “rubber ducky.” When Duckworth finally did lose, 10-8 in the fifth (after cramping and beginning to walk something like his namesake), I felt as bad for the Fanatics as I did for the player. What a time investment.
But it’s not just the Aussies who have struggled in Melbourne. The U.S. has no men left, and yesterday the last English women’s hope, Laura Robson, went out. Still, hope springs eternal in the home papers.
Here’s a look at the way similar results can look very different in the eyes of each country’s media.