June 29, 1998

The soccer World Cup proves that speed and strength are vital. This lack of power is why India isn't world class is almost every sport it plays.

By Rohit Brijnath

Three seconds or so is all it takes for reality to kick India in the teeth. Three seconds of physical explosion over 10 yards, for 980 million Indians to understand why they go unrepresented at the soccer World Cup. Watch Ronaldo, frozen, leaning over the ball. Then, driven by the Rolls Royce engines in his thighs, he erupts into action, using muscle to barrel his way past defenders, his legs, seemingly carved from some fallen oak tree, flexing finally to thunder the ball towards goal. Often the eruption is interrupted, by tackles of barely restrained violence. Ronaldo must arise swiftly and try again.

In these three seconds, a complex mix of strength and speed, lies the heart of modern sport. And also an understanding of Indian soccer's world ranking of 115 (Lebanon is at 96). Says George Blues, technical director at FC Kochin: "I.M. Vijayan, one of India's best, is quick over a short distance but in Europe he would be average. And if he kicks the ball at 60 mph, Ronaldo's would easily be 90 mph." P.K. Banerjee, East Bengal coach, adds a more provoking thought: "There isn't a single Indian player who will be able to rise for weeks after one of those typical tackles."

It is not just soccer. Everywhere Indian sport turns, it is being outmuscled, outhit, outrun.

• The hockey team returns from last month's World Cup with goalkeeper Jude Menezes saying, "The Europeans hit much harder, and only if you're used to such speed can you react to it." In contrast, explains defender Anil Aldrin: "Our forwards had the weakest hits at goal. Maybe they got tired running to the 16-yard circle."
• As Wimbledon begins, Leander Paes, not even 5 ft 10 in and with a serve at 115 mph, knows he cannot win a tournament in which contenders like Greg Rusedski, 6 ft 3in, often serve at 135 mph and where no man under six foot -- barring Andre Agassi at 5 ft 11 in -- has won in the last 13 years.
• As badminton players focus on September's Commonwealth Games, Prakash Padukone says, "If the game was once 70 per cent skill and 30 per cent power, it is now 50-50 and we're way behind in speed, strength and fitness."
• In Bangalore, national junior volleyball coach G.E. Sridharan bellows, "Power is our problem. Europeans jump-serve at 90-120 kmph, we serve at 75-100 kmph. Worse, we can play the first hour at their level, then we fade."

Sport has finally embraced its machismo image. The Brylcreemed amateur who measured his training by his empty beer cans on the bar and then uncorked delicate skills in the arena is now a museum attraction. In the modern era, a new gladiator has arrived, a beast honed to physical sophistication by science, who is strong, fast, enduring. Tactics, instinct and natural skills remain necessary ingredients to success. Yet in modern sport the equation is incomplete without power. To win in almost every sport demands, says sports medicine expert Dr Anant Joshi, "a person to be an athlete first". In the inability to solve this formula, to harness strength and speed like the western athlete, lies India's failure. As Padukone says, "Players can be artistic and win but you also need the power ingredients."

The Problem
The Weak can not inherit the earth.

In sports demanding a purity of power, India rests in the ice age. In swimming, where computerised touch pads separate winners by a hundredth of a second, India's best of 4:09.06 in the 400m men's freestyle is 25 seconds behind the world record of 3:43.80. The fear lies not there but in the ugly truth that hockey, volleyball, tennis and badminton -- sports where skill was expected to be enough -- have in the past 15 years begun to march to a quicker drummer. To dribble is not enough, a hockey player must run strongly and for 70 minutes too. Purists may wince at brawn's bid to overshadow brain. But, as former hockey Olympian Dr Vece Paes says, "Speed and power are what spectators want and even equipment has been made to cater to that."

There is irrefutable evidence that the chasm is widening. In badminton, India has slipped from the top eight in 1988 to between 15 and 20 today. In hockey, India has dropped from the fifth place at the 1994 World Cup to ninth in 1998. Says Aldrin: "Power doesn't rule hockey. But if you don't have strength, you can't compete." Some of India's decline can be attributed to the emergence of the astro-turf (a surface harder on the legs and on which the ball moves swifter) and the demand for penalty-corner muscle. In tennis, technology has turned rackets into weapons that not only demand quicker reaction -- 200 milliseconds to decide whether to hit a backhand or a forehand service return -- but also turn the average six footer into a rocket-serving neanderthal. Says Leander Paes: "Because of my height I get no easy points off my serve. So every point is a crisis point and the pressure on the body is enormous." If Leander has been often unable to break the Top 100, power is part of his problem.

This insidious beast has journeyed into the unlikeliest of sports. Golf, a sport that sings with grace, is undergoing "a revolution", says Indian star Gaurav Ghei. "People thought lifting weights meant losing flexibility, but that's not true. Players are doing anything to find an edge," he says. Tiger Woods, who drives 320 yards, bench presses 220 pounds; Ghei, who drives 270 yards, can't find an Indian trainer to help him build the muscles he wants. At the recent MRF coaches seminar on fast bowling, a brutal message was sent to Indian cricket. "You'll have more opportunities to develop fast bowlers only if your strength base improves," warned Richard Done, senior coach at the Commonwealth Bank Cricket Academy in Adelaide. Added Dennis Lillee, who found young Indian bowlers had no endurance, no strength: "If 30 years ago they said strength was so important we would have laughed. Now it's vital."

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