Ties That Bind

Butt’s Up. What’s that? A cursory greeting from one all at sea with theEnglish language? C’mon, get serious, this is supposed to be a piece on Indiantennis and the Davis Cup. In that case, how about John "you cannot beserious" McEnroe, at his scathing best, on what he thinks of the speciescalled tennis officials? Could have been, probably might even have, but that’snot what this crude reference is to. It’s more flippant and less harmless,though two young men who go by the names of Rohan Bopanna and Harsh Mankad mightchoose to differ on the latter claim.

Butt’s Up is the Indian Davis Cup team’s version of death row. It’s howthey condemn losers after practice matches among themselves. The loser stands onthe baseline with his back to the court, hunched so that he presents a broadbackside, and his inverted racquet between his legs in such a manner that justthe handle peers out between the legs. From the other side, the winner takes acrack at hitting the loser’s backside, with a serve. Literally speaking, thewinner gets a chance to whip the loser’s butt, once again. Given that theseguys serve at speeds of 180 kilometres an hour and with an accuracy that woulddo marksmen proud, it’s enough to give those on the receiving end someheebie-jeebies.

Mankad and Bopanna should know, having been at the receiving end of severalsuch lashings. Two days before the just concluded tie against Japan, which Indiawon comfortably 4-1, the crack doubles pairing of Leander Paes and MaheshBhupathi won a practice set against Bopanna and Mankad, which entitled them to ashot apiece at their opponents. What followed was a riot.

Bopanna and Mankad line up, giggling, strategizing on how to dodge, withinthe rules of the game, the broadsides that would be fired their way. Paes stepsup to serve. Thwack. He misses, barely. Even as Bopanna and Mankad take a deepbreath and brace themselves for the second serve targeted at their butts,everyone around the court except those two are in splits. Those two keep up acontinuous giggle; it’s hard to bend down and laugh out aloud at the sametime.

Bhupathi, the very picture of a warrior monk, steps up and lets loose aferocious serve. Thwack. He almost does a William Tell. The ball cannons intothe little piece of racquet sticking between Bopanna’s legs, and ricochetsaway harmlessly. A moan escapes Bhupathi’s lips. More laughs from the handfulof onlookers. Mankad and Bopanna are delirious. They are jumping up and downnear the baseline, playfully mocking Paes and Bhupathi. "Saved by theracquet butt, saved by the racquet butt," Bopanna cries out.

Camaraderie, cheerful banter, boys will be boys stuff. And, yeah, someserious tennis too. Davis Cup is teamwork in tennis at its finest, provided ateam is made up of individuals who see it like that. This present Indian teamdoes.

Sure, there are strong hints of baggage from the past, of one relationshiphaving gone sour. It’s no business of ours to know, leave alone speculate, whyPaes and Bhupathi drifted apart. It’s not becoming of us to debate whether andhow their parting of ways hurt Indian tennis. We shouldn’t even be asking themif they will ever play again together beyond the confines of the Indian flag.

What we, as tennis fans, sporting enthusiasts and Indians, should take noteoff is how these two tennis players adjust to such rifts. For, in their case,once sporting instincts take over, such differences are reduced to merefootnotes. Spend some time watching the Indian tennis team at practice or at thematches, and you’ll see just how and why sport is such a binding influence.

Paes and Bhupathi aren’t tied by an umbilical cord anymore. They don’tshare the chemistry they did at one time. Probably, they don’t even rub offenergy on the other the way they used to. The freshness and gay abandon has beenreplaced by awkwardness and undercurrents, but they are thorough professionalswho put their team’s interest over theirs. So while they don’t exchange muchmore than pleasantries with each other, they make sure that they do enough toget the job done and that their teammates don’t feel the pinch. Either that,or they do a darned good job of masking their hurt.

Every once in a while, time rewinds. Every once in a while, they createpoignant moments on court that serve gentle reminders of a relationship,personal and professional, that was as magical and full of promise as they come.They serve up expressions that hark back to those glory days, reminders thatsome good times, good feelings and good deeds are hard to erase. Like after aparticularly well-played point at a crucial time in their doubles match, whenthe customary gentle palm touch gives way to a demanding, mutually-insistenthigh-five. Or like when Paes pulls off an audacious shot in his match againstTakao Suzuki, Bhupathi, sitting courtside, rushes out of his chair, puts hishand together, sports an ear-to-ear grin, as if to say, "did you seethat?"

Sport binds. Sport heals. Sport shapes individuals. And the Davis Cup, thedemocratic and demanding sporting institution that it is, is truly special.

In a predominantly individual sport, the Davis Cup is the sole platform forteam interaction and expression. It’s a different challenge for modern tennisplayers, who spend the year traversing the globe, mostly on their own, livingout of a suitcase, playing for personal glory. For a handful of weeks in a year,though, they are asked to play an inherently individual sport, for theircountry. It’s a task that throws up its own peculiar, often unfamiliar, set ofchallenges, more so while playing for a diverse country like ours.

In India, contrasts are virtually a given in most societal spaces. Sport isno different. The diversity stems as much from talent and skill, as it does fromstatus, upbringing, education, opportunities, sometimes even religion, caste andethnicity. Since tennis thrives exclusively in urban India, the contrast arisesprimarily by way of talent and achievements.

On one side of the net are Paes and Bhupathi, both veterans, accomplishedactors on tennis’s big stage. On the other side, there’s Bopanna, Mankad andSunil Kumar, barely recognised or acknowledged even in their own country. Theyare works-in-progress, trying to follow in the footsteps of their illustriouscountrymen with the dream that they’ll eventually leave imprints of their own.They are all diverse individuals, united in purpose: to win Davis Cup ties forIndia. And they all need the other to be on the same side and on the samewavelength.

For close to a decade now, the Davis Cup has virtually been the Paes show,with the others often relegated to playing side parts or just making up thenumbers. It’s a role he relishes. However, this lack of depth means that Indiaperpetually exists on the fringes of the 16-team World Group. The Davis Cupformat allows good scope for individual expression, but to win on a consistentbasis, against the strongest of opposition, requires meaningful contributionsfrom all players on a team.

Bhupathi’s presence virtually secures a doubles point. What India have beendesperately seeking is a second singles player, one capable of winning liverubbers in the cauldron-like atmosphere of the Davis Cup. Against Japan, Indiafielded Bopanna, the highest-ranked singles player (344) in the country (Paesand Bhupathi are much lower because they have long given up playing singles onthe tour to focus on their doubles), and he delivered one crucial point.

Bopanna is a tall, gangly 22-year-old who could be cast in the role of theschool bully, the one who always sits on the last bench in class and isperpetually plotting some mischief. His serve is his only weapon, which is whyhe will always be a threat on grass. The rest of his armoury could do withplenty of sharpening, though.

He’s got feet of clay, which means his serve loses some of its edge,because he isn’t able to follow it and get in close to the net to volley as heought to be. His ground strokes are hard but dodgy, and don’t inspireconfidence. Against the Japanese, Bopanna went for broke to avoid baselineduels. When the rhythm was going for him, he would reel off a few games. But theinstant his touch deserted him, he would lose the momentum and start sprayingthe ball.

Yet, there’s promise hidden in those erratic performances. The talent isunquestionably there, it’s a matter of harnessing it and ironing out thenumerous rough edges. According to Paes, Bopanna’s game has come a long waysince he last saw him in September 2002. That’s encouraging, because ithighlights good progress. Mankad is a sharper, more spirited all-court playerthan Bopanna, but his strength and physique fail him, particularly on the fastercourts.

India next host New Zealand in the semi-finals of the Asia-Oceania Group 1tie in April, a tie that will, in all probability, be played on grass. Thematter of the second singles player remains an open-ended question. The likes ofBopanna and Mankad are still at a stage where they can improve their gamesexponentially, which is good. It’s also good that, during these Davis Cupties, they get to hit and hang around with players of the calibre of Paes andBhupathi, who care deeply for Indian tennis. Never mind that they keep gettingtheir butts kicked every now and then.