Friendship Day: Rivals In The Playing Field, Strong Bonds Outside It

Amitabh Bachchan and Dharmendra got onto a motorcycle and sang an ode to friendship in Sholay. Virender Sehwag and Ashish Nehra did it in real life. As two Delhi youngsters playing their way up through domestic cricket in the late ’90s, Sehwag and Nehra would ride to Feroz Shah Kotla Stadium on Sehwag’s two-wheeler. During the journey, Nehra, not a morning person, would grab a snooze by resting his head on his buddy’s large kit bag. “Viru stayed in Najafgarh, while I lived in Delhi Cant (cantonment), so he would pick me up,” the toothy-grinned former India fast bowler and Gujarat Titans coach once said on Breakfast With Champions, a YouTube show hosted by sports presenter Gaurav Kapur. “While going to the ground, he would ride and I would sleep. On the way back, I would ride, he would sleep.”

In today’s complex world, a range of factors have affected friendships. Beyond a point, it’s each man for himself. Friendships are secondary to priorities—career, growth, family and useful networks. This is seen as a grown-up, honest way of being, rather than hanging on to sentimental chhodenge dum magar, tera saath na chhodenge notions. Besides, people are more immersed in their online lives. And our stand on politics and sensitive issues affects our friendships more than it used to.

In the case of sportspersons, considering their high-pressure public lives, these complexities are even more pronounced. With everyone around them snapping away on smartphones, they would rather connect with their friends at home. Cricketers Smriti Mandhana and Jemimah Rodrigues, for example, share humorous videos of themselves, sometimes enacting movie songs. Likewise with Shikhar Dhawan and Prithvi Shaw, both India caps. This is a more convenient way of enjoying their friendship than stepping out for a meal or a movie. In the process, the objectives of reaching out to fans and monetising their social media presence are also achieved.

In earlier times, athletes did not have to think so much. They could meet their friends where they wanted. They were recognised and mobbed even then, but there were no smartphones or abusive trolls.

Friendship has two key ingredients. One is closeness. The other is fun. We have people in our lives we can confide in, but we may not necessarily laugh a lot with them. Similarly, we may have people in our lives who are great fun to be with, but we may not call them at 4 am. Both breeds, however, qualify as friends. That is why the warm relations between some Indian and Pakistani players can be called friendships, though each side has always known that they cannot be each other’s 4 am friends.

Leg-pulling, eating out and inviting each other home are a given when Indian and Pakistani players meet. When the neighbours toured India in 1986-87, both teams played Holi in the hotel pool during the Bangalore Test. The two legends from either side, Imran Khan and Sunil Gavaskar, had a lot of mutual respect. About a year before the 1986-87 tour, it was Imran, who, over lunch in London, persuaded Gavaskar to extend his career by a few months so that the two of them could play one last series against each other. But a fine line has to be walked in Indo-Pak friendships, as Navjot Singh Sidhu discovered. Sidhu was castigated when he chose to attend Imran’s prime ministerial swearing-in over Atal Behari Vajpayee’s cremation.

Friendship, in the complete sense of the word, is perhaps what Sachin Tendulkar shared with Vinod Kambli. A lot may have been written about it. They may have had a falling out (they are cordial again). But it still merits recollection for the genuineness of their bond and their Tom Sawyer-Huckleberry Finn type of antics. One of the duo’s utterly random pranks was on Sourav Ganguly, when they were 14-15 years old and at a coaching camp. As Ganguly took a nap, Tendulkar and Kambli flooded his room with buckets-full of water. Ganguly woke up surrounded by a puddle and floating luggage. Tendulkar and Ganguly too became good friends in later years. Stardom or the pulls and pressures of the dressing room did not damage their relationship. Recently, they celebrated Ganguly’s 50th birthday in London, wives in tow.

Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi’s was another great friendship of Indian sport. It started out with noble intentions and resulted in memorable achievements for India, including the 1999 Wimbledon men’s doubles crown. Paes arrived on the international tennis tour before Bhupathi. But individual sport, and one with constant travelling, is a lonely existence, unless you are a wealthy superstar who can afford to fly your entourage everywhere. When Bhupathi came along, Paes was pleased. An emotional man who came from a broken home, he now had company on the road. Besides, Paes felt the two of them could win major tournaments if they teamed up. So he took Bhupathi under his wing.

They found success quickly, that too at the highest level. Glamour and money poured in. For a couple of years, things were alright. And then, for a variety of reasons, one of them scandalous, they had an acrimonious split. A bit of a truce prevails now. But, despite living within minutes of each other in Bandra, Mumbai, Paes and Bhupathi, who once shared hotel rooms and dreams, have not set foot in each other’s present homes.

Another tennis duo, the ‘Indo-Pak Express’ of Rohan Bopanna and Aisam-ul-Haq Qureshi, became ambassadors of peace wherever they played. ‘Stop War, Start Tennis’ was their slogan. Viv Richards and Ian Botham symbolised racial harmony through their friendship, like Jesse Owens and Luz Long. In the ’80s, Botham rejected a lucrative offer to play a few matches in apartheid-era South Africa, saying he couldn’t have “looked Viv in the eye” had he played.

The ultimate tale of friendship in sports history, a story with shades of the Mahabharata, is the one many of us were taught in school. It’s about Long and Owens, long jump rivals at the 1936 Berlin Olympics in Hitler’s Germany. Owens, from the US, and Long, from the home country, were both around 23. The similarities ended there. Owens was black, and despite already being a great athlete, was a pariah in his own nation, let alone in foreign lands. Long was the quintessential Aryan, fair and blond. The thousands of Germans in the 100,000-capacity stadium, Hitler included, wanted him to win.

Owens botched up his initial attempts to qualify for the final, and had only one jump left. Long, despite being an opponent, despite being a white German, made Owens a useful suggestion. He asked him to mark a line before the foul line on his next jump, so that he didn’t overstep. Owens followed the tip, qualified and went on to beat Long for the gold. The veracity of the advice story has been questioned many times, if not the kinship between Owens and Long. According to npr.org, Tom Ecker, author of Olympic Facts and Fables, had asked Owens in 1965 about the details. “Jesse Owens admitted to us that he had not met Luz Long until after the competition was over,” Ecker was quoted as saying.

Due to racism in the US, Owens led a life of struggle and humiliation even after his haul of four gold medals in Berlin. Later, he became a public speaker, and practical reasons may have compelled him to stick to the popular version of the Luz Long saga. What is not in question, however, is that Long and Owens embraced in front of Hitler. That in itself was a noble and brave act.

A mere seven years after Berlin, Long, barely 30, died while fighting in World War II. He sent Owens a letter from the trenches. Among other things, he wrote, “Someday find my son...tell him about how things can be between men on this Earth.” Owens did that. And many years after he, too, passed away, the Owens and Long families stayed in touch. At the 2009 World Athletics in Berlin, Luz Long’s son Kai and Owens’ grand-dau­ghter Marlene Dortch were among special invitees. They also visited an exhibition on Owens at the Berlin Sports Museum.

Such can be the powerful legacy of sports and friendship.

(This appeared in the print edition as "Beyond the Arena")