July 19, 1999
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TENNIS The Power of Two Showing remarakable team spirit Bhupathi and Paes consolidate their position as the world's No. 1 doubles pair. By Rohit Brijnath
When he was seven years old, Leander Adrian Paes used to practice with his father Vece Paes at Calcutta's Dalhousie Institute Club. Though his father was a member, Leander was merely a dependent and not allowed certain pri-vileges accorded to the members. Like playing on weekends, irrespective of whether a court was free or not. And so, much like John McEnroe being brusquely asked to vacate a court at Queens Club by a lady member one unforgettable year, Leander was asked to remove himself one after-noon. It was typical small-mindedness. But unlike McEnroe who asked the lady member to "f**k off", Leander only squeaked: "One day when I win Wimbledon you will invite me to play here. I will not come." Today Leander has three Wimbledon titles: the boys' singles from 1990 (when the Dalhousie Club committee sent him a congratulatory note) and the men's doubles and mixed doubles (with Lisa Raymond) this year. Yet what lingers is his resoluteness, the ambition of a young boy, flickering on occasion but never fading, the desire that roiled in his young veins refusing to recede. There is a conviction to the man so powerful that it chloroforms the senses. Last Sunday at Wimbledon he plays three matches in eight hours -- the mixed semis, the men's doubles final, the mixed final -- wins them all, and is dubbed by English newspapers as "The Marathon Man". Still he shrugs: "Doubles is not so tiring." You can't explain a 20-year journey to people in five minutes. "Win or lose I always want to give 100 per cent," has been Leander's stock quote. Mahesh Bhupathi's too it seems. From the week preceding Wimbledon Mahesh played with an abdominal strain. Then he overcompensated, letting the load fall on other muscles, and in the third round of the Wimbledon doubles pulled his groin on the left side. Every time he pushed off for a serve, every time he stretched wide for a backhand, agony came calling. "I was in terrible pain. I was popping pain-killers every hour but in the last two matches I was close to tears. I couldn't even walk to the press conference." Then he called his other, Mary Mira Bhupathi, a born-again Christian who lives in Bangalore, and said, "Pray for me, Ma." She prayed, he played (mouth shut over gritted teeth), they won. In the shower in the dressing room afterwards, two naked men look at each other, exhausted. These were kids who slept with a tennis racket and couldn't even spell Wimbledon. These were boys playing first together in late 1994 -- Leander ranked 154, Mahesh 380 -- who dared not even fantasise about winning Wimbledon -- "Just letting us in would be nice," says Mahesh. These were men who had never got past Wimbledon's second round, their game not suited technically to the grass surface. Now in the shower, the world No. 1 and No. 2 individually, and No. 1 as a pair, look at each other. Mahesh: "Dude, do you realise we just won Wimbledon?" Leander (shaking his head):"I never thought we could win this one." So let's get to the point, let's cut to the chase: these boys don't win because God said let's give the Indians a chance this year. No, they don't quit. The old man has seen it all, from the 1950s to the end of the millennium, 50 years of tennis round the world. So you listen when Ramanathan Krishnan speaks, "This is not just a sports victory, this is more than that. They've had to deal with the rain stoppages, with close matches where they've been a set down, sometimes two, but they never mentally quit. I think it is an achievement of guts." Successful athletes are complicated creations, a sort of walking jigsaw with every part in place. One part is raw talent, the genetic benefit of hand and eye; another part is technique and adaptability, like Andre Agassi's smooth, shortened, backswing on grass; then athleticism, which allowed Bjorn Borg to be in precise position for each shot. But there is a less tangible quality that is vital, the almost lunatic immortality that comes to rest in a player's head, an unshakeable belief that losing is not an option. Pete Sampras exudes a saint's serenity but it disguises an overwhelming self-confidence, where he feels an opponent is but an minor obstacle in his pursuit of history. Conversely, Jimmy Connors was a disaster after every match he lost, sulking, whining, never acknowledging his opponent was better than him. He couldn't allow himself to believe it. In a similar manner, Leander and Mahesh are driven by a refusal to admit a match is lost. In the context of Indian sportsmen who fail to seize the moment -- yes, yes, the cricketers -- they stand unique. In the quarter-finals they lost the first two sets, in the semis the first set, in the final the first set. They never flinched. As Mahesh says, "Three matches in a row we were down but found a way to break our opponents. We just try, try, till the end." For two men locked in a fractious relationship -- off-court a discord remains -- they understand that on-court they must resemble Siamese twins, locked together for a common good. They exchange energy, aware that one man's failing may make the other look better, but it diminishes their concept of team. Two sets down in the semis with Leander struggling on his serve, Mahesh told him, "Keep going, stay positive, it's not over." In the final, with a fourth set tie-breaker looming, says Mahesh, "Nerves were beginning to take over, when Lee came to me and said 'let's go' and his eyes began to light up." It is why they have played 18 matches at Grand Slams this year and lost just one -- the Australian Open final. It is why they have played 11 tie-breakers at the Grand Slams this year and won 10. It is why they saved every one of the three break points they faced in the Wimbledon final. It is why when Paul Haarhuis and Jared Palmer sat down after losing the final, Palmer said, "They seem to play the big matches well. They certainly have the ability to dominate." They are suitably famous ("telepathic understanding," gushed the London's Daily Telegraph ) and considerably rich (Mahesh earned Rs 65.25 lakh and Leander Rs 92.96 lakh). But the Versace showrooms and their lipsticked fans will have to wait, for the tour never stops. First the US Open, then the World Doubles Championship, then the possibility of ending the year as No. 1, a feat no Indian tennis player has ever managed. Then there is the record book. Great teams like Flach-Seguso (three Grand Slam titles) and Fitzgerald-Jarryd (four Grand Slam titles) are already in sniffing distance. It is a matter of keeping injury at bay, reinforcing their games (more Leander lobs, a dipping return from Mahesh) and embracing each other whatever their flaws. Few men are fortunate enough to be born with such drive, to possess such force of attitude, to be so charmingly spirited as a team. To spurn such gifts is to be ungrateful. In 1993 when sports psychologist Jim Loehr handed over a copy of his book Mental Toughness Training For Sports to Leander, he wrote inside, "You have true greatness. Never stop believing and never surrender. Go for it." They have. So why stop now? |
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At the peak of tremendous effort, while the
blood is pounding in your head, all suddenly becomes quiet within you. At that moment you
have the conviction that you contain all the power in the world, that you are capable of
everything, that you have wings."
