Things of note:

The American Express earpieces (exclusive for card holders) prove frustrating. They’re supposed to let fans hear pro-US network commentary. Ours is less than impressive and triggers the question: “We’re in a crowd of tennis fans, why listen to the radio?”

Heineken boys. These guys have kegs in knapsacks and walk around pouring draught for customers: Dutch daring and American ingenuity.

Too much seat saving. People camp in the front rows and take turns going to the washroom. This makes shuffling down difficult.

Baron von Rockwell. During a match between Swiss-miss Patty Schnyder and Austrian Tamira Paszek we spy a gentleman in the player’s box who is startling in his manner and dress. He has a blonde mullet, dark black Jacobean facial hair, a red-and-black jacket and acid-wash clam diggers. His face is twisted in a perpetual half-grimace and his eyes are fiery pools. We call him Baron von Rockwell.

Me: “Look at that dude. Take his picture.”

Matt: “No, I’m afraid. He looks like a guy who played bass with the Scorpions or something.”

Me: “Take it. Come on. Look at that dude.”

Matthew takes the picture.