Deep in the bowels of the Rod Laver Arena Novak Djokovic was jumping up and down so violently his glass of champagne was spilling over.

He'd just won the Australian Open, his shirt was off and his head was dripping with bubbly.

Surrounded by his coaches and trainers this was the moment when the enormity of a first Grand Slam title set in.

His family, in their white T-shirts, had sprinted around the corridor beneath the court to properly congratulate their hero.

His youngest brother, Djordje, who spent the championship celebrating and cajoling from the players box, soon had a beer in his hand. Possibly another first by the look of it.

It certainly wasn't the only alcoholic beverage of a lively night...

Next morning, head still spinning from that potent cocktail of unregulated joy and unlimited alcohol, Djokovic turned up on the banks of the River Yarra for a photoshoot and TV interviews.

A few hours later, his coach Marian Vajda had barely arrived at Melbourne airport when he orchestrated more victory songs with media agent Benito Perez Barbadillo providing dubious accompaniment.

Many years ago these scenes were probably played out night after night within a deep sleep and probably day after day on the practice court.

When Djokovic first picked up a tennis racket, on a court opposite his parent's Pizzeria half-way up a Serbian mountain, this was the dream.

His victory is thoroughly deserved because he won through the hardest section of the draw and dropped just a single set.

Hewitt, Safin, Bagdahtis, Nalbandian, Ferrero and Ferrer were all in his quarter and Federer was the man in the semis.

Hewitt was given a sturdy beating, Ferrer was thrashed and Federer was exposed for being off the pace and was duly routed in a way few imagined possible.

In the final, the 20 year old from Belgrade withstood the early threat of Tsonga, which was expected, to battle through in four despite pain to his left hamstring.

The injury emphasised the "one point at a time" mentality. The tedious ball bouncing annoyed the crowd but it helped shut out the surrounding madness.

He has spoken about learning a lesson from every match. When he lost to Federer in New York he failed to play the big points well. In Melbourne, his best serves were reserved for the set-points he faced against the Swiss.

Against Ferrer in the quarters, he was startled as the finishing line approached. He didn't make the same mistake in the final, holding his nerve for some incredibly mature closing points.

Because he's still learning, anything is now possible.

Tsonga deserves equal praise for his supporting role in a fine final and his ebullient contribution to a magnificent tournament.

When his father, Didier, attended the "Rumble in the Jungle" 33 years ago in his homeland of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo), he probably thought nothing in sport would come close to those eight dramatic rounds.

But as he sat courtside, fresh from the airport, he witnessed his son complete a seventh round of heavyweight combat, only to lose on points to the better man.

How proud he must have been.

Tsonga's time will come - he has too big a game to be a one-slam-wonder like Rainer Schuettler or Arnaud Clement were in Australia earlier this century.

Likewise Ana Ivanovic who for the second time failed to bring her best tennis to the championship match but lit up Melbourne with personality and honesty.

Maria Sharapova was the player of the tournament. Her improved movement, her increased mobility at the net and the devastation caused by her backhand crosscourt were the submissions of the judges. Well, me.

The 2008 Australian Open - one of the best majors in recent memory - left us with hopes in our hearts.

Hope that the sheer quantity and quality of five set matches are repeated for the rest of the Grand Slam year.

Hope that the tennis leaders see the logic in now offering the women the chance to compete over best of five sets, at least in major finals

Hope that we see Philipp Kohlschreiber again. What a dazzling backhand and what a win over Roddick in the early rounds.

Hope that Tamira Pascek tones up because what a player the 17 year old Austrian could become if she loses the excess baggage.

Hope that British juniors realise what a privileged position they are in.

Hope that Tennis Australia resists the proposal for a Sunday start next year. The lure of the commercial dollar is naturally appealing, but a Sunday start pointlessly spreads the first round over too many days - just look at the tedious opening to last year's French.