Bosses Are Forever

Do the names Sham Lal Meena, Dhul Chand Damor and Lalrem Sangha ring a bell? Perhaps, Limba Ram—the archetypal tribal archer—may. Discoveries and products of the Sports Authority of India's Special Area Games scheme, they put Indian archery on the world map. Limba Ram even won a gold medal at the 1992 Asian Championship in Beijing with a score equalling the existing world record.

A few weeks ago, Tarundeep Rai, Goutam Singh, Jayant Talukdar and Robin Hansda climbed the podium at the World Outdoor Target Archery Championship in Madrid, Spain. Together, this bunch helped India win its maiden silver medal at the world level.

Despite the long drought in between, there's one other thing that links the team of the '80s and the current crop: the figure that lords it over the Archery Association of India. Limba Ram and Co have long walked into the sunset, but Vijay Kumar Malhotra has played aai boss for 32 years now.

And Malhotra is by no means India's only long-serving sports administrator. The shelf-life of an average Indian international sportsperson may be anything from six to 10 years but it is a good wager that honorary sports officials will outlast them by many years. Dispensing favours, controlling the channels of patronage, and generally avoiding accountability like all faceless bureaucracies. Virendra Nanavati of Ahmedabad has been dominating the Swimming Federation of India as its secretary-general for close to two decades. The 79-year-old Mool Chand Chowhan's writ has run as the Table Tennis Federation of India boss for 25 years. And Calcutta's P.N. Roy has controlled the Billiards and Snooker Federation of India for nearly as long after taking over from his father.

What gives sports administrators the sort of longevity sportsmen would die for? The power and the perks? Or, is it the opportunity to be seen as influential? Or, is it, as they claim, a genuine love of the game? Occasionally, an erstwhile champion like badminton maestro Prakash Padukone or some other challenger raises a hue and cry, if not a full-fledged banner of revolt, but more often than not, such movements meet a quick end.

In citing a world championship medal or a Commonwealth prize or a supposedly flourishing national league, most officials forget that one swallow never made a summer. Besides, they gloss over the fact that some of India's best achievers arrived by dint of their own hard work. "Most officials are reactive, not proactive. Rarely, if ever, do they come up with ways and means to help their sport evolve," says a former international sportsman, who obviously did not wish to be identified. "Some have such a negative frame of mind that sport and its practitioners have little chance of making any headway."

The officials, on their part, unfailingly complain about the government. It does not spare enough funds for sports promotion or expanding infrastructure, they say. There may be a degree of truth in this but government-bashing often serves as a lazy pretext for not having ideas—for not finding ways to ensure a steady flow of cash by raising their own resources. Meanwhile, some officials manage to get into international federations and leverage that to continue in positions of power at the national level.

But, why do thick-skinned sports administrators cling, limpet-like, for so long? Do they mock their 'honorary' status by making a living off sport? "No, some of them are wealthy and are not in it to sustain themselves off sport," says former billiards champion Michael Ferreira, who has observed sports administrators for decades and has often commented upon them as a newspaper columnist. "They hang in there, drunk on the thought of sheer power. They love being in the limelight."

Khajan Singh, 1986 Asian Games swimming silver medallist, echoes Ferreira."They only want power, money, international tours," hesays. "I am sure politicians and bureaucrats can look after the administration and financial aspects, leaving sportspersons to run the technical aspects. Suresh Kalmadi, Athletics Federation of India president, is an example of someone who packs punch as far as bringing in money and giving direction is concerned. He does not interfere in technical matters like drawing up training programmes or team selection, letting secretary-general Lalit Bhanot run the show with a set of former internationals."

Those who counter the argument that sportspersons must have a greater say in the running of federations often cite Padukone's 'failure' as Badminton Association of India executive president. "Did the BAI allow him any freedom at all? Instead, they succeeded in driving him away," says a strident Khajan Singh. "You cannot say India does not have talent in swimming or other sport. It has just not been nurtured well enough."

Few really have any problems with administrators who have done well for their sport, be it in terms of popularising it to ensure a wide talent base to choose the national teams from or raising funds. Even then, All India Football Federation president Priyaranjan Das Munshi, with his hands-on approach, is not exactly known for putting Indian soccer back on track. Nor, for that matter, can Indian Hockey Federation president K.P.S. Gill and secretary K. Jothikumaran claim to have especially served the cause of the sport. On the contrary, Indian hockey seems to have got on to a treadmill during their reign. The 1998 Asian Games gold medal could have been the turning point in India's hockey history but for the ham-handedness of federation officials.

Time was when Indian sportspersons were happy with just qualifying for an Olympic Games or a World championship.IHF now pleases itself by saying India plays the elite Champions Trophy regularly. It does not seem to matter to the mandarins that several coaches have come and gone, the national team's performance has slid, many players have lost focus because of the revolving-door policy and the national championship is only held sporadically.

If in some team sport, getting into the national team is easy but staying there hard, the converse is true for sports administrators. Breaking into the fold is the more difficult thing. Retaining power (read: keeping the majority of the electorate happy) is easier to achieve for those in power. There are a number of mantras that work. For one, reward the most loyal with a place among the office-bearers. For another, extend the loyalty of the constituents by making them team managers or observers and sending them out on foreign trips. The time-worn administrators also stifle any opposition with an iron fist. They either create confusion in the opposition ranks or ensure that the trouble mongers are beaten on home turf and cease to represent their state association in the federation. And yes, occasionally, money does play its role.

Even if erratically, the government has tried to check such long-playing records by coming up with a set of guidelines for the federations it funds. But, expectedly, the Indian Olympic Association and the National Sports Federations come up with the argument that they follow the law of the land and since they are registered as societies under the Societies Act 1860, such guidelines cannot be imposed on them. The government is reduced to releasing grants for national sports federations but having little say in how they are run.