Opinion
Chief sports columnist Greg Baum and tennis writer Marc McGowan go head-to-head. One thinks crowds have gone too far, the other says it’s great theatre.
You could call it the Kyrgios effect. It’s the liberties – make that excesses – that tennis crowds now take in the name of “entertainment”.
It means almost anything goes in the cause of supporting your man and getting under the skin of his/her opponent. Kyrgios admits he thrives on it. In this, he’s the schoolyard bully. In a doubles match a couple of years ago, Kyrgios gee’d up the crowd, then complained that the gee’d up crowd was distracting him.
The Kyrgios effect was apparent in the only singles match Kyrgios played in this tournament, when the crowd cheered faults served by his opponent, obscure qualifier Jake Fearnley. I guess they didn’t have much else to cheer. Fat lot of good it did Kyrgios. But at least he wasn’t obscure …
Feeble authorities acquiesce in this mentality. They promote it. They hype it up.
Once, patriotic cheering was robust, but within bounds. There were common courtesies, tacitly agreed. It did not extend to jeering other players, nor calling out during points. The hush was part of the noise.
Those bounds are gone. The hush is now a void that must be filled. Taunts to the opposition are a first resort, not last. It used to be possible for a crowd to be both vigorous and magnanimous at once, but no more.
When Kyrgios wannabe Thanasi Kokkinakis was playing England’s Jack Draper on Wednesday night, the chair umpire was reduced to pleading for a bit of civility. Fat lot of good all the commotion did Kokkinakis.
And so to Thursday night and Danielle Collins.
Firstly, let’s deal with moral equivalence. Collins was brattish, petulant and just plain awful. Professional athletes learn to deal with a level of hostility and rise above it. Collins went the gutter route.
Danielle Collins versus the crowd was box office viewing.Credit: Stephen Kiprillis
Even if she felt justified in a little payback, the way she gloated about how everyone barracking for the opponent she beat was paying for her next five-star holiday lacked all class. Winners are grinners, but when they become smirkers they lose.
But the crowd went too far, too. At some point, hometown hurrahs became a pile-on. Collins told them to shut it, and it worsened, of course.
This is the thing about crowds. Cloaked in anonymity, hiding bravely behind one another, they behave collectively as none of them would individually. It means appeals by authorities to their better angels rarely work.
This was acutely apparent in the miserable chain of events that drove Adam Goodes out of football. A crowd can’t take a good look at itself in the mirror the way an individual can, more’s the pity.
I can’t hear you: Nick Kyrgios engages with the crowd in 2022.Credit: Eddie Jim
Ultimately, everyone lost on Thursday. In the hubbub, Destanee Aiava’s admirable showing became collateral damage. In this way, the crowd self-sabotaged.
Sometimes in his complicated relationship with crowds, Novak Djokovic spars with them the way Collins did on Thursday night. He usually has the last laugh.
Collins did, too, but it wasn’t funny. It’s hard to think that anyone went home from Kia Arena feeling very happy with themselves that night.
The really sad thing is that some no doubt did.
They are called “heels” in wrestling, villainous characters designed to be the antagonists to the “good guy”.
Tennis at the Australian Open – in wild contrast to scripted wrestling – is the best version of reality TV you will find, but the two forms of entertainment found common ground on Thursday night.
Grand slam finalist Danielle Collins bit back at an Australian tennis crowd that takes great joy at doing everything possible to support their players, while trying to irritate the international star who dares to compete against them.
Like Daniil Medvedev before her after a Melbourne Park clash with Nick Kyrgios three years ago, the pugnacious Collins decided to take action.
First, a contextual detour: the 31-year-old American, who lost the 2022 Australian Open final to Ash Barty, has always been a divisive figure.
Check out, for instance, Collins’ pre-final, attitude-laden “handshake” at the United Cup in Sydney with Iga Swiatek. They have a history – mostly from Collins’ side – and the American delighted in the reaction to her latest piece of sass, making the photo of her eye roll in that exchange her Instagram profile picture.
On Thursday night, after winning the first set against resurgent Australian opponent Destanee Aiava, but suddenly bedevilled by double faults, she snapped at overly exuberant fans who yelled out between serves.
“Shut up!” Collins shouted, followed by an equally expressive head tilt dripping with disgust.
Collins ironically blows a kiss to the rowdy crowd during her clash with Australian Destanee Aiava.Credit: Getty Images
The chair umpire, as her colleague did a night earlier in the Thanasi Kokkinakis-Jack Draper epic, scolded the crowd like naughty schoolchildren.
The battle lines were drawn, if they were not already.
Collins lost that game, and eventually the second set – but not before calling for the trainer and taking a medical timeout lasting nine minutes in total right before Aiava first attempted to serve for the set.
This was an engrossing contest until the Australian qualifier, who is experiencing a career revival, eventually relented as the American secured victory.
Far from the fun being over, it was only just getting started.
Collins celebrated by cupping her ear to the crowd, repeatedly saying, “How about that?” and blowing kisses. Seconds later, she kissed her hand then slapped her backside with it. It’s pretty obvious what she meant.
Boos rained down on Collins, who took her heel turn further by grabbing the microphone in her on-court interview to taunt the fans again: “I was thinking during the match, if I’m out here, I might as well take that big fat pay cheque and go on a holiday.”
It was petulant, obnoxious, but also thoroughly entertaining.
Collins kept the same energy when she rolled into the press room about 20 minutes later, explaining the “cool concept” in tennis of how ticket-paying haters filled her pockets with fistfuls of money.
By night’s end, Collins had a third-round berth at the Australian Open, at least $290,000 prizemoney – and the points over an unruly Aussie crowd.
She will never be confused with the always-classy and humble Ash Barty, but it takes all types to make entertainment work, as the wrestling fraternity knows all too well.
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