We are blue, We are white, We are Finnish dynamite!

I have now spent three entire days, from 11am until 9-10pm, marauding the outside courts at Melbourne Park watching an absurd amount of tennis. 'Does it not get boring?' I hear you ask. Quite simply, no it doesn't, each match is unique and entertaining in its own way. One variable is the crowd, with a standout aspect of the tournament being the hearty support many players receive from their countrymen.

The Israeli support was a well coordinated unit, the Japanese fans outnumbered the Australians for Kei Nishikori's clash with Marinko Matosevic, six Poles chanted at the volume of sixty after each point Jerzy Janowicz played (win or lose), and French cries of 'Allez!' helped Gilles Simon miraculously save seven match points to overcome German Daniel Brands in an epic 16-14 fifth set.

However, none of the above came close to the madness of the Bosnians. Their hero, 21 year old qualifier Damir Dzumhur, became the first Bosnian to win a Grand Slam match on Monday and today he faced Croatian Ivan Dodig in front of around thirty crazy Bosnian fans. After losing the first two sets, Dzumhur took the third and at this point Dodig took a bathroom break. The flag-traipsing Bosnians sung throughout every second of this five or so minute break, with the euphoria culminating in the entire group linking arms and jumping up and down in a circle. I had never seen anything like it at a tennis match before, it was like a football crowd. The rowdiness continued and soon after Dodig was forced to retire with leg cramps, sending Dzumhur through to the round of 32. I would be surprised if Bosnian independence was met with more jubilation than this victory.

By Wednesday afternoon I was itching for someone to lend my own support to. Given the usual dearth of Brits, I chose to get behind the Finn Jarkko Nieminen in his encounter with the flashy Italian Fabio Fognini. It wasn't as random a choice as you might think. I have a soft spot for the Scandinavian nation due to my Finnish buddy Liinus and I was with my Swedish friend Markus, who wanted to root for his neighbour. Furthermore, Nieminen is the kind of player I can get behind. The 32 year old is an unremarkable guy who has done remarkably well. He doesn't appear to be terrifically athletic and his play isn't exactly dazzling. However, Jarkko maximises his ability and has been in the Top 50 for the majority of the past 10 years.  Furthermore, I am reliably informed that Jarkko is widely regarded as the nicest guy on tour.

The Finnish support on Court 3 consisted of four sections, which were, in order of size:
- Seven or eight flag bearers sat at the opposite end to me.
- Three or four corner seated fans who were mostly quiet, but suddenly and randomly burst out with songs of "Let's go Jarkko".
- Myself and Markus, who sat in the front row behind the court and provided consistent encouragement.
- A backwards-capped old man who proudly waved his small flag and occasionally bellowed something out, such as the titular chant.

Opposing us were around five to ten typically shirtless Italians. These bros weren't the rowdiest, but did have to be restrained from shouting out 'bravo' during the point by the umpire.

The match was a strange one. For a Grand Slam second round the standard was poor and the players were more poking sticks at each other than swinging swords. Nieminen looked fatigued from his five set marathon on Monday while Fognini was awfully erratic - at times he displayed why he's climbed into the Top 20 and at other times he was hopeless. Nieminen snuck into an early 3-0 lead, but was immediately pegged back and went on to drop the set 7-5. The second set was equally frustrating - 6-4 Fognini - but in the third Jarkko upped his game and took it 6-3. At the start of the fourth set, the Italian had really lost his way, missing balls left and right, grumbling to his coaches, and picking up a warning for firing a ball into the back fence. All four sections of the Finnish support began to believe and upped their volume accordingly. But then there was another twist, Nieminen was 40-0 up on his serve and inexplicably fell apart, losing the next nine points to go 4-1 down. Fognini sniffed victory and pounced, taking the set 6-2.

Overall the Finns weren't the loudest but they were very supportive, sticking with their player every step of the way and even singing his name after the match was over. Meanwhile, the victory aroused the Italians, who broke into football style singing that persisted until they were eventually rewarded by Fognini flinging them one of his sweaty towels.

My support wasn't enough to get Jarkko Nieminen past Fabio Fognini