Melbourne is a fantastic city and quite rightly proclaims itself as the sporting capital of the world. Part of this claim is the Australian Open Tennis tournament. I don't much care for tennis and considering that the main British hope was Andy Murray - from Scotland and there for unsupportable from my Anglo-Saxon perspective. My partner in crime, Jamey and I decided that the reason to go to the tennis would be to get on TV in the hope that someone at home might see us.
Because we are cool like that.
We couldnt afford tickets to a big match so we knew we would have to make ourselves stand out in the crowds of thousands. We decided in that fine English tradition to dress up in ridiculous clothing. Original plans as being Venus and Serena Williams were deemed too controversial. So we settled on legend of 80s tennis John McEnroe.
You cannot be serious, there I said it.
No expense was spared in the costume department. Big brown afro wigs and sweatbands were purchased. To imitate the skin tight apparel of the old-time tennis stars we acquired some polo shirts(aged 12) and some ladies very short shorts(a decision later to be greatly resented).
We looked the part but still we thought it would be a challenge to get noticed. the day came and we went off to Melbourne park getting plenty of attention on the way. Within two minutes of entering the grounds an eager guy from channel 7 bounded up to us "Hey guys, you look great, want to film some promos?"
Jamey and I exchanged a knowing look of a job well done. We stood in front of the cameras with the boom mike swinging above us. Tennis racquets in hand as we shouted the names of channel 7 programmes and various chants. We were told that we would definitely be on tv but maybe it would take some time for it all to be edited together. We went and enjoyed a very pleasant day at the tennis, safe in the knowledge that our mission was complete.
Stars are born
The short shorts resulted in some truly epic sun-burn which got visciously slapped repeatedly, but still when we got home we planted ourselves in front of the TV and waited for our moment of glory to be broadcast to the world. We watched a lot of tennis but no sign of McEnroes.
"haha, you slapped my sunburn, very funny. I WILL DESTROY YOU"
I had a flight to Tasmania booked so I departed(there's another story about my horrendous Tasmanian departure later to come) and got back to nature with lots of hiking and outdoorsy stuff to detox from a very heavy stint in Melbourne. I forgot all about the tennis.
I was in Launceston cooking the typical backpacker meal of pasta when I got the call.
"We're on!"
Quite some time had passed and I was sure the tennis was over by now, but no. It turns out we were shown, smiling and shouting for 2 seconds during the prime-time Womens final. 350 million viewed that match around the world on BBC, eurosport, ESPN as well as channel 7. That's right, I'm a superstar.
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