For an all-Swiss affair, this was far from neutral. Such was the din that heralded Roger Federer's advance to a 28th major final, at the expense of his drained and emotional compatriot Stan Wawrinka, it was as if a corner of Melbourne Park had morphed into Basel-by-the-Yarra, a convention in honour of a 35-year-old with a dodgy adductor and the confounding ability to toy not just with his opponent but the passage of time itself.
Six tournaments: this was the sum total of Federer's competitive endeavour in 2016, en route to his stunning renaissance. About the only clue anybody had to his form this year was a pre-season video he had posted, uncharacteristically, of him scampering about the practice courts of Dubai with his usual panther-like grace. If this was a sign of confidence, it was exceedingly well-founded. Federer, defying the fatalism of his sceptics, has proved here that even the loftiest ceilings in sport - his 17 Grand Slam titles surpass Pete Sampras and Rafael Nadal by three - can be raised when mind and body co-operate.
His wife, Mirka, watched on wearing a pink sweater that bore the words 'Aveugle par amour', translated as 'Blinded by Love'. Everybody else on Rod Laver Arena was simply bedazzled by his brilliance, not least Wawrinka, whose lassoed single-handed backhands were returned with interest. Federer's pace, guile and foot movement would have flattered a player a decade his junior. So, too, would his endurance. As if to underline the restorative effects of a sabbatical, Federer has returned from his six-month absence with two five-set victories over top-five players in a week.
The longer this Australian Open lasts for Federer, the more he seems to show the type of pure, unclouded judgment that was once the bedrock of his dominance. He is playing with an insouciant abandon to recall the devilment of his Noughties pomp, when he could find the deftest angle at will. Grinning at the improbability of it all, he acknowledged that the approach was working. "I was talking to myself, saying, 'Just relax, man,'" he said, trying to explain how he strangled Wawrinka's momentum in the deciding set. "'Let it fly off your racquet and see what happens.' That's the mindset I need to have in the final. It has worked very well so far."
Just one man in the Open era can hold a candle to what Federer is doing in his supposed competitive dotage. Australia's Ken Rosewall was 39 when he reached the US Open final in 1974, and it is little wonder that the two of them have grown into such kindred spirits. Both scoffed at the very mention of retirement and both laid waste to premature reports of their demise. Indeed, the pair are so close that they recently milked a cow together in Gstaad.
