Two Sides Of The Net

About 22 years ago, the sports ministry had organised a big do at ­Vigyan ­Bhavan in New Delhi to present cash awards to those who had won medals in international competitions in 1993. A booklet published by the ministry for the occasion, with the names and photos of the awardees, was a classic memento from the shambolic world of Indian sports officialdom. It spelt ‘sports’, in a cute lapse into Punjabi English, as ‘supports’. And long-distance runner Bah­adur Prasad’s certificate said the Asian Track and Field Meet was held in ‘Man­ali’, the hill resort in ­Himachal Pradesh, instead of Manila!

Not much has changed in the world of Indian sport and the meagre haul at the Rio Olympics reflects it. Despite the governm­ent’s casual attitude towards sports—look only at the three-paise per capita allocation in our Union budgets—winners like Sakshi Malik and Dipa Karmakar continue to emerge from far-flung places where facilities are almost non-existent. (P.V. Sindhu is not exactly from a poor village, but badminton is perhaps the most widely played sport in the country.) And yet, there is no dearth of people who think only ‘losers’ take up sports, as they are good for nothing else.

India’s sports history is full of stories of athletes who, with their sheer will, have defied poverty and lack of access to infrastructure and incentives to achieve glory almost sin­gle-handedly. Boxer Kaur Singh’s parents were poor farmers in Punjab’s Khanal Khurd village. Boxer Dingko Singh from the Indian navy grew up in an orphanage in Imphal. Boxer Mary Kom’s parents were farm labourers in Kangathei village of Manipur’s Churachandpur district. Asian Games gold medal-winning athlete Preja Sridaran’s mother was a domestic help and long-distance runner Gulab Chand came from a family of poor labourers in Varanasi. Youngsters brought up in economic hardship make up most of the Indian contingent to Rio, with only the fire in their bellies taking them to international arenas.

“Only sons and daughters of the poor can exert as much as excellence in athletics demands. Children of the rich, in contrast, play games such as golf and badminton,” says Gurbachan Singh Randhawa, who came fifth in the 110 m hurdles at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. “There’s no facility at the grassroots level for Indian sportspersons. So, all the credit for individuals who make it big despite their poor background goes to their parents and teachers.” Agrees former India hockey player and coach Joaquim Martin Carvalho, who adds, “Athletes have done their best at Rio Olympics against all odds. Abhinav Bindra, for example, won an Olympic gold in London, 2012, despite the system, not because of it.”

Government funding was not enough, so Abhinav had to spend money from his own pocket, which is possible only for those who come from relatively affluent families like his. He hired a personal coach and trained in a foreign country. Dipa Karmakar, on the other hand, had to fight tremendous odds in her ramshackle gym in Agartala. The class divide in Indian sports is stark, and it runs across sports.

In cricket, most pace bowlers come from middle- or lower-middle-class background. Former India and Delhi pacer Atul Wassan is an exception. He says he comes from an “air-conditioned background” and still sweated it out under the sun. So, our sportspersons have to have that extra grit as compared to international athletes.

“If some athletes are performing well, it is only incidental and not a reflection of planned growth,” says former chief of India Boxing Federation Ashok K. Mattoo. “It is only because of their own determination. If someone really wants to excel, they start from home, where support never reaches. Thankfully, our children have the confidence that, if supported, they can move forward. The ministry looks at sports only from an ­administrative point of view.”

Bahadur Prasad, from Bilauwa village of UP’s Mau district, is an example of people from small villages carving a niche. His parents never went to school and when he joined the Provincial Armed Constabulary as a constable in 1985-86, his monthly salary was Rs 255. He went on to become the Asian champion in 1,500 m and 5,000 m events. “In track and field, about 95 per cent athletes, whether it is P.T. Usha, Shiny Wilson or Gulab Chand, come from poor, hard-working families in the villages,” he says. Most of the stadia and training facilities are in or around the big cities. Lack of governmental support where it is most wanted and where it will be most effective is a key factor behind this debilitating environment. “The Sports Authority of India and the states are providing support, but very nominal. They talk big but their facilities hardly reach the athletes,” says V. Sreenivasan, husband of P.T. Usha.

Pyari Xaxa and Sasmita Malik of the Indian women’s football team would rea­dily agree. Pyari, 19, who won the All India Football Federation’s ‘Emerging Footballer’ award for 2015, is a 19-­year-old Adivasi girl from Jhartarang vill­age (25 km from Rourkela in Orissa) who travels eight kilometres every day—2 km on her bicycle and the rest on a bus—for her football practice. Her father, who worked as a guard, died 16 years ago, and both her brothers work as labourers. Sasmita, who comes from Aul village in the state’s Kendrapara district, is the daughter of a junior clerk in the railways. Her father works extra hours as a plumber to make ends meet.

“If we focus more at the grassroot level, we may start getting results,” says Mohammed S. Jabbar, a former Indian women’s football coach who groomed Pyari and Sasmita.

Michael Ferreira, several times world champion in billiards, points to the low sports budget. “Peanuts, sir, peanuts,” he says. “Definitely, we have to increase our sports budget. And we have to get rid of the bureaucratic control of sporting institutions. Give the administration to people like Sebastian Coe of England, president of the world athletics body, who know sports.”

For 2016-17, the Centre allocated Rs 1,592 crore for sports, up by only Rs 50 crore from the previous year (the defence budget went up a whopping 13.1 per cent). That’s what makes the princely sum of three paise per capita, while the US spends the equivalent of Rs 27. “The government contributes almost nothing,” says Randhawa. “Unless sports makes it to the government’s priority list, things are unlikely to change in my lifetime.”

Ferreira blames the media and the corporate world too for the mess. “We encourage just one sport, cricket. This has always been my complaint,” he says. So, what is the way out? “I do foresee a change, but not in the near future. It might take another five to 10 years for our thinking to change.” Ferreira’s optimism is touching, but soon we will all be cursing the athletes who went to Rio and came back with so few medals. We will be lamenting how we don’t have the ‘sporting spirit’ in us, and once again, a whole lot of talented, unsung sportspersons will go back to their villages of dark poverty.