Success vs. Joy
- LXIV -
You Can't Avoid Politics
When we realized that billiards and snooker were to be included in the Asian Games, there was rejoicing among all Indian billiards players. The standard of billiards in India was far higher than any of the other Asian countries. Peter Gilchrist, a former world champion from England who was especially flown over by the Thai Billiards and Snooker Association, was training Rom Surin, an exworld amateur snooker champion. Reports had reached us that he was playing really well. But other than that, there was no visible threat to the billiards team.
We had to go through a series of three or four coaching camps prior to the Games. These camps were staged at the Karnataka State Billiards Association in Bangalore, as the Association possessed the necessary infrastructure in its nicely developed club just off Queens Road. There were 18 of us for the three camps and with Michael Ferreira, Arvind Savur and S. Jairaj as coaches, we all went through the discipline of early morning walks, exercise sessions with Bidu and some work-out regimes in the gym. With about five to eight hours practice thrown in, we all were in peak shape by the time we reached Bangkok, the venue for the Asian Games.
It was the first time I had been to the Games. It was an experience that I will treasure all my life. The joy of playing for my country, the atisfaction of winning a gold medal, the relief of living up to the expectations of an entire nation, were all emotions I went through on my way to winning the gold medal in the doubles with Ashok Shandilya and silver in the singles.
But before that, other less pleasing emotions surfaced. The sight of incompetence among our officials, the bureaucracy and its red-tape mentality, the subservient manner in which some of the athletes dealt with the officials, and the blatant misuse of power by some of our administrators left me disillusioned, frustrated, and angry.
I retaliated at the way we were being treated at the Games itself. As a four times world champion, in a sport that really could not be contained or controlled by these power hungry officials and their cronies, I was in a position of strength. But how many others were in my position? For most of the contingent, just being there was a privilege (as it was for me) and they could never confront the establishment.
The famous ‘tracksuit incident’ is something which was talked about and reported by the media both in India and at the Games. By the third day at the Games, I realized that we had still not received our tracksuits. While each country’s contingent was moving about in superbly coordinated tracksuits – China even had color-coded shoes – the Indian contingent was sticking out like a sore thumb. By the third day, I could bear it no longer. I walked up to the Indian Olympic Association’s office at the ground floor and saw two people there. One was the Chef de Mission. I asked him directly who was responsible for ensuring the delivery of the tracksuits to the contingent and why they had not been given to us.
The other gentleman standing there walked up to me and gave me a look as if to suggest that I was mad to question the authority of the Chef De Mission. “I am responsible for the tracksuits,” he said very proudly. “Oh,” I exclaimed. “And can you tell me why they have not been delivered to us?” “They have not been loaded on the Air India flight,” he replied. “The tracksuits should be here tomorrow because they’re coming on the next flight.” I thanked him for enlightening me on the whereabouts of the tracksuits.
Two days later, the tracksuits had still not been received and I again walked up to the office. I met the same gentleman and this time he said, “the lorry carrying the consignment was held back by the sales tax authorities and has not reached Delhi.” I realized instantly that this was a cock-and-bull story being dished out. But I was determined and angry by now. I persisted and asked him why this whole process, so simple on the face of it, was taking so long, and why could it not have been planned better.
Realizing that he had a sticky customer, he called me to the side and said that if I were so keen on obtaining a tracksuit, he would give one to me. “Come up to my room and I will give it to you,” he said. I did not know whether to laugh at his blatant stupidity or cry at the state of affairs at the Indian Olympic Association. “I want the tracksuits for the entire billiards and snooker team and if possible for the entire contingent,” I said. “Then you will have to wait,” was his curt reply. I was disgusted and just walked out of the office. I made it a point to reveal this incident to the media.
For the record, the billiards contingent received the tracksuits three days before the conclusion of the Games. I have a strange suspicion that we got the tracksuits because all athletes had to be wearing one if they were to receive a medal. And, of course, we were getting the gold and bronze in doubles and the gold and silver in the singles.
One of my other everlasting memories of the Games was the sight of the triumphant hockey team led by the fiery Dhanraj Pillay returning to the village after their victory over Korea. After 32 years, the hockey gold had come back to India. I also remember the tragic, absurd, and illogical decision of K.P.S. Gill to sack the top four players, including Pillay and Ashish Balal. The latter was responsible for the saved penalty in the shootout. It was a decision that shocked the sporting fraternity and started a debate, which raged for almost two months.
This was blatant misuse of power. What were these four players guilty of? They had just won a gold for India but they had dared to defy the authority of their federation chief. How dare they defy his authority! That was the driving sentiment and reason, which led to all four being sacked. Reams were written criticizing Gill’s decision. Yet the man who had controlled Indian hockey for more than a decade would not let go so easily. Any other principled statesman would have resigned under the sheer weight of public opinion. But these are thick-skinned fellows who realize that public memory is short. They know that the television channels, columnists, and sports editors will drop on to some other intriguing topic to write about after a while. They also realize that the players in question feel deeply for the sport and that they want to play. They would also eventually come back to him, apologize, and be reinstated into the team.
That is exactly what happened. The Sydney Olympics were two years away and Pillay had no option but to make amends with Gill. And sure enough, he was back in the team. Sickening, but this is the way sport is run in our country. This is the reality of our sports administrators. This is the tragedy of Indian sport. What drives these socalled
wise men? What makes them tick? Why do they have this wish to crush our athletes and make them subservient? Why is there no public accountability?
I guess politics comes into the picture. There are wheels within wheels. I am not necessarily talking of the corruption of money. But nevertheless it is a form of corruption – of principles, ethics, and power. Why can’t the IOA or, for that matter, the Ministry of Sports, take action against these erring officials? Why was someone not pulled up and an explanation asked for about the tracksuit incident? Why was the same official again present at the Sydney Olympics? In the midst of all this, I ask, where is the space to allow a connection with one’s self?