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My knees hurt. My legs are cramping up. It’s 11pm and I need a drink badly. The crowd is yelling in my ears. Do I have the strength left to finish this match? Could I possibly hold out for another set, then probably another one after that?

And all I’m doing is sitting in the front row at Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne, watching the Australian Open men’s singles semifinal between defending champion and world number 1 Novak Djokovic and world number 4 Andy Murray. I could easily get up (Well, during the changeover), walk to the Lacoste Lounge outside, and have champagne, oysters and prawns so fresh they leap off the plate, while gawking at models with razor cheekbones.

Who am I kidding? No one is going to budge from their precious seats until this epic is over.

Read our column today in the Philippine Star.

What kind of a dolt would leave in the middle of the epic Djokovic-Nadal match, the longest men’s final in slam history?

Raise hand.

There’s only one flight to Manila on Monday and it leaves at 0030. We had to retrieve our bags from the hotel and get to the airport by 2230. So shortly after the Djoker broke his racquet and changed shirts from white to black, we got out of our wonderful front row seats and lurched out of the stadium.

We weren’t alone. At the airport lounge, huddled around the TV, were people who had to abandon the live epic to catch the flight, including the president of PAL and Lance Gokongwei.

It looked like it was going to end in the fourth, and we heard ourselves thinking, “Finish him off Djoker, we’re boarding soon!” Yeah, we’re a Djokovic fan now, though in our vestigial heart, Forever Federer. But blasted Nadal (Mas OA pa siya sa personal, tatayo lang sa silya intense na) is a great clutch player and as we were boarding the plane it seemed momentum had swung to the matador.

Fortunately the Djoker is now an even better clutch player, despite the recurrence of the breathing problem. Remember when he would quit matches he was losing, citing various illnesses? Those days are over. As we were landing the pilot announced that Djokovic had won the Australian Open.

Seventh time in a row he’s beaten Nadal. So Djokovic is to Nadal as Nadal is to Federer.

Our full reports will appear in the Philippine Star, watch for them. We have to thank our editor for sending us to Oz, and the sponsors, Lacoste and Store Specialists Inc.

Meanwhile, here’s a summary of the women’s singles final in which Victoria Azarenka shackled Maria Sharapova.

Azarenka def Sharapova

We missed seeing Roger Federer at the Australian Open. Our Roger substitute: the Lindt Cafe. As you probably know, The Fed endorses Lindt’s Lindor Truffles (and Jura coffee makers, Rolex and whatnot). While walking up and down Collins Street in Melbourne yesterday, wondering what stores were open, we saw the Lindt sign. Chocolate! They also serve sandwiches and tea.

Couldn’t bring home Lindor Truffles though, fearing they’d melt in the checked baggage. They didn’t have those dry ice thingies they have for packaging at Royce and La Truffe.

Across the street is a big Dymocks bookstore carrying classic Penguins and Penguin merchandise. We also got P.G. Wodehouse and Christopher Isherwood books we’d been looking for in Manila.

Which reminds us: Where’s your homework?

At W.H. Smith at the airport we found this beauty:

Novak Djokovic

Andy Murray

We were rooting for Djokovic but then Murray started making amazing shots so we switched camps and then Djoker raised his game and he’s in Nadal’s head so we’d prefer that he be in the final and then Murray totally disproved our assessment that he lacks nerve and then Djoker revealed more weapons in his arsenal, and it was over, 6-3, 3-6, 6-7 (4-7), 6-1, 7-5 to the defending champion and world number one.

Midnight in Melbourne, full house at Rod Laver Arena, and no one had any intention of leaving till the match was over.

Whenever the Djoker uses the sweatband on his wrist to mop his face he reminds us of our cats’ grooming routine.

Djoker’s relief was palpable, and we understand if Murray got sulky.

At one point we were giggling hysterically from the combination of the lack of sleep and wonderment at Murray’s pinpoint passing shots.

We were knackered, and all we did was sit in the audience. Yup, that’s us in the front row in the bright green shawl, with our hosts from Lacoste. (It turns out the French do say “Ooh-la-la” when they are surprised.) We refused to wave at the camera, but our companions did.

The full report in the Philippine Star next week.

View from the 20th floor of the Grand Hyatt in Melbourne, 27 Jan 2012

Flew out of Manila at 9pm Thursday, landed in Oz at 7:50 am Friday (Melbourne is three hours ahead) to the news that The Fed lost to Nadal in 4 sets. Aaaaaaaaa we thought we were going to watch that semifinal, having (stupidly) assumed that the big match would be played last (Sorry, Djoker-Murray fans). On one hand we’re bummed that we didn’t get to see the Federer v Nadal; on the other hand we’re actually relieved not to see Roger beaten when he was looking so good in the earlier rounds.

Federites are all too familiar with the feeling of dread that descends as a Federer-Nadal match approaches. Well it’s lifted and now we can enjoy our trip.

Ryan, we owe you brunch in Paris, see you at Roland Garros. Congratulations to the winner of our Roger-Rafa crystal ball contest; please declare yourself as the wi-fi in our excellent hotel is expensive (charge per minute). Speaking of charges, looks like it’s safe to email us—we disconnected the auto email thingy in the BlackBerry so we won’t get hit with a P25 (!) fee for every single email we receive.

While we’re at it, could you readers vote on the winner for the Cruel Rejections LitWit Challenge? Our schedule is packed. Please post your votes in the Comments section of that contest, here.

So it’s the Djoker-Murray match we’re seeing tonight, then the women’s final tomorrow. Can’t complain, esp since we’re sitting in the sponsor’s box. Vive Lacoste! It’s so much easier to write up a match when you’re not having ten nervous breakdowns on your favorite’s behalf.

Going to boil ourselves in the shower (As Teddy-wan Kenobi likes to point out, an airplane’s atmosphere is made of recycled farts, even if you fly business class) then we’re off to the stadium.

Chinese New Year toy from our buffet dinner at Escolta

Either our famous person radar has gotten an upgrade, or everyone just stays at the Manila Peninsula. Tonight at 1840 we walk into the Pen after sitting in traffic for 45 minutes, and standing by the elevators outside Salon de Ning in a Panama hat, T-shirt, shorts is Edward Norton. He is scrolling through an iPad and asking questions of a bellhop, who goes to fetch something.

We’re early for our dinner reservation at Escolta, so we calculate the probability that we will run into him again standing alone by an elevator and figure it is almost zero. So we stop and address him. “Hello. Big fan. Are you lost? May I help you?”

Note how we leave doubt as to who is the fan of whom hahaha. Yeah, never address famous people as exalted beings, treat them like stray cats.

He says, “No, I was just asking for a keycard. But thank you!”

He is tall and thin and covered in blonde fuzz. He sounds the way he does in movies, and he looks like a Yale graduate student who’s going off to join the Peace Corps in a banana republic.

We’re not in the habit of taking celebrity photos, and anyway we don’t want to get politely turned down by another cast member of The Bourne Legacy only to find photos of him online posing with half the population of Metro Manila.

(Noel: When Renner said, ‘I don’t want to cause a stir’ you should’ve said, ‘I understand, Mr DiCaprio.’)

Later we report the Norton sighting to Noel who says, “Wow, inggit! He was my supercrush once. If he doesn’t watch it he’ll end up looking like the thin guy from Scooby-Doo.”

“That’s it!! He looks like Shaggy of Scooby-Doo!” But in a good way, of course.