Father To Son

If Vijay Amritraj was born in the 1980s and grew up to play professionaltennis, he would probably be attired in T-shirts held together at the chest byzippers instead of buttons. He would wear baggy shorts that reached half way tothe ground and had absolutely no sense of shape or form. Instead of flat keds,he would slip his feet into aerodynamic contraptions that promised to enable himhare across court in search of the yellow fuzz. The hairdo would be sharp, givento changing with seasons, from long and flowing to spiky and cropped.

His racquet wouldn’t be wooden, but made of elements more likely to beremembered from the chemistry class. He would play a brand of tennis that wasmore all-court in nature, have a two-fisted backhand; net rushing, instead ofbeing the stock strategy, would be a tactic used sparingly. He would wear hisaggression on his sleeve and exhibit it on court, even indulge in the occasionalspot of gamesmanship.

He would be much like his 19-year-old, tennis-playing son Prakash Amritraj.

The first impression one forms after watching Amritraj Junior on court, andspeaking to him off it, is that he’s basically a twenty-first century versionof his father, who happens to be the most decorated singles tennis player thissports-starved nation has produced. His demeanour is polite and confident. Hismanners are curt. His words are articulate, with an American twang. The sportingvalues are impeccable. The resemblance is uncanny.

Of course, in the collective mind of an Indian public that can be generous invictory and unforgiving in defeat, it’s an impression that is shaped evenbefore they watch Prakash in the flesh, and is simply in search ofreaffirmation. With such a thin plot line, every hint of likeness between fatherand son is blown up and magnified, and an individual labelled. It’s harmlessif such comparisons are made at a superficial level or seen as purelyincidental. But when, unfairly, the comparison comes to rest on expectations andacquires a competitive streak, the Amritraj tag can turn from a boon to a curse.

Vijay is a big reason, if not the biggest, for Prakash growing into a tennisplayer of much promise, possibly the future of Indian tennis. Vijay haseffortlessly passed on his talent and love for the game to his son, and stood byhim while he tries to make something out of this gift. On the flip side, though,Prakash steps on court knowing that, unlike his peers, he is sized up on anadditional scale reserved for kids of famous parents: his father’s on courtachievements. And, by any account, that’s no mean benchmark: in a careerspanning two decades, Vijay won 16 singles titles, 13 doubles titles, two finalappearances in Davis Cup and a career-high singles ranking of 16.

To his credit, Prakash, who recently turned professional, is neither dauntednor discomforted by repeated inquisitions on what it means to be suffixed withthe most famous surname in Indian tennis, and whether it is a beast of burden.For the umpteenth time, and definitely not the last, he patiently explains:"I get asked this question quite frequently. I don’t really see it as aburden. People expect me to do well, they have high expectations, but I placeeven higher expectations on myself. Often, people’s expectations don’t weighup to the expectations I have of myself."

He’s hesitant to spell out "his expectations" or quantify it, butthe refrain is on continuing to improve -- and quickly. Says Prakash:"Basically, play a lot of tournaments, get match experience, and let myranking take care of itself." And what would make him a better player, helphim break into the big league, where tournament directors seek him and not theother way round? "I have a good all-court game. What I need to do is cutdown on my mistakes, be more consistent." It comes down to playing morematches, in diverse conditions, against better players than the lot he swept inthe recently-concluded four-leg ‘Satellite’ circuit (the fourth tier oftennis tournaments, after the main ATP Tour events, Challengers and Futures,respectively) in India.

By far the best singles player on view in a field comprising mostly Indiansand Indonesians, Prakash finished with three title wins (his maiden wins as apro) and a semi-final loss, raking in 36 ATP points. This should bump up hisworld ranking from 618 to around 450, which will help him get direct entry intothe ‘Challengers’ (the second tier of tennis tournaments), perhaps, evensome qualifying slots and wildcards in the main Tour events. Next on hisitinerary is Newport on grass, which Vijay won thrice, coincidentally all in USPresidential election years. After that, as the main Tour hits the US hardcourts, he wants to play more singles qualifiers and doubles with cousinStephen.

Then, there is the small matter of the Davis Cup, one of the two careerdreams for most aspiring Indian tennis players. Says Prakash: "I get goosebumps even thinking about it. Since I was small, I have dreamt about two things:winning at Wimbledon and winning the Davis Cup for India." He now has alegible shot at one of them at least. Earlier this year, the AITA (All-IndiaTennis Association) cleared Prakash to represent India, and he is eagerlyawaiting his call-up. After his dominant showing in the Satellites, it couldcome as early as September, when India travel to Holland for a World Groupplay-off tie, on indoor hard courts.

Prakash revels on fast surfaces like grass and hard courts, which opens thepossibility of Prakash even earning the second singles slot, ahead of RohanBopanna, who has got the job done at the regional level but has been good onlyin patches. It’s a three-way play-off between the three who represent thesecond string of Indian tennis -- Bopanna, Prakash and Harsh Mankad. July andAugust should see the three pounding away in the US and Europe, at variouslevels, mostly on hard courts. Those results could well sway selection for thatsecond singles slot.

On his part, Prakash relishes the grandeur of the big stage. Like otherathletes who love the spotlight, he too has the natural ability to use his gameand mannerisms to forge a bond with the crowd -- and get them involved as wellas feed off them.

Says Prakash: "It’s great if people want to watch. The more peoplethat come to watch, the better I play." It’s a high that finds a trueexpression in the intense, often rough, atmosphere of Davis Cup, which places apremium on nerves and character like no other occasion in tennis. It’s a goodfit.

A lot has been passed down from father to son. The little kid who sucked histhumb lying peacefully on his father’s chest at Hyde Park, who was seenfooling around with dad’s Donnay racquets, has grown up. And grown up well. Inthe way he plays the game and the way he talks about it, Prakash offers a wideperspective on sport, one that embraces history, has a social context and standsfor good sporting values.

 "For me, tennis is more than just a game from which you are tryingto make money. When I see my father or Becker play, it looks like an art, athing of beauty." A similar stream of thought is echoed in his choice offavourite basketball players -- Kobe Bryant and Ray Allen. "I like the waythey carry themselves on court. They are gentlemen, intense and charismatic. Asa sportsperson, you can be all three at the same time."

Behind the ambitious and driven tennis player is an everyday guy, one wholoves going to the movies and would love to act himself one day (uncle Ashok,watch out!), digs sixties soul and nineties hip-hop, watching Bryant and the LosAngeles Lakers, and has an email ID that is a curious combination of undergroundrecord labels and Allen’s jersey number.

Tennis players pursue grand dreams, but even they make practical choices atevery other turn. Prakash stands at a delicate stage in his tennis career, bothin terms of age and progress. The next couple of years will offer pointers onthe direction his career is likely to take -- whether he is one of the rareIndians to graduate to the higher echelons, or hang around the fringes on thesingles and end up making doubles his mainstay.

Much will hinge on how much Prakash can improve, and how fast. Although hedoesn’t have a ‘killer stroke’, he has worked hard on his fundamentals topossess a solid all-court game. It’s now more a question of pushing theenvelope -- polishing skills, ironing out the rough edges, combining it withstrategy, increasing strength and stamina.

Last year, Prakash balanced tennis with education, playing a bunch of GrandSlams and a handful of main Tour events, both singles and doubles, on thestrength of his showing in the US collegiate and junior circuit. The IndianSatellite was his first full outing after turning pro. It was a tough four-weekstretch that left him a bit drained in the end. That’s the shape of things tocome. He’s game for it. Says Prakash: "I love the rhythm of the Tour andtennis. I enjoy eight-hour work days -- playing, practicing, off-court training,gym work."

When work is fun, it shows up in the shape of a strong work ethic. Even so,for enduring success, a good work ethic has to be complemented by progress andpurpose that is backed by a vision. Central to this goal of raising the barcontinuously is a good coach. One of the many reasons why several talentedhome-grown Indian players have stagnated has been the absence of a competentfull-time coach; they don’t have sufficient money to shell out and the AITAapparently doesn’t believe much in making this investment.

Prakash has it better, much better. He’s been born into a family that,across three generations now, has understood the need to give athletes a supportsystem that enables them to have a tunnel vision. And to the extent they canafford it, they don’t let money be an impediment.

At present, Vijay doubles up as Prakash’s coach, and they exchange notes onthe phone or whenever they meet up. But there are no plans of Vijay hooking upfull-time, as he himself maintains a gruelling schedule. There are plans,though, of a travelling coach. Vijay, in his heydays, honed his game under thehawk eye of Pancho Gonzales and Roy Emerson, among others, and there are manyreasons to believe that Prakash can have it just as good in the coachingdepartment.

Prakash is about to embark on a journey his father and uncle Anand undertookthree decades ago. The difference is that while they were venturing into a newand unknown world, Prakash will have some idea of what lies ahead. While theyhad to contend with numerous peripheral hassles to give their tennis dreams achance of being realised, Prakash has many such issues taken care off.

But strip away the background, and it all evens out. Beyond a point, successand self-worth in sport is strung together by sweat and toil, knowledge andpersistence; it is measured not by how much you achieve in comparison to yourfather or your peers, but whether you always gave it your best shot or not. Thatis a constant. It is something Prakash Amritraj understands.