Wimbledon 2022 reminds India’s hunt for a singles champion remains a pipedream

Tucked away in a small corner of at least one national daily about a fortnight ago was the news that India would go unrepresented in the main draw of the singles event of another Grand Slam – Wimbledon 2022, this time. Ramkumar Ramanathan and Yuki Bhambri both went down in straight sets in the first round of qualifying action, leaving Indian fans hoping, again, for old warhorse Sania Mirza to keep the flag flying in doubles play. Rohan Bopanna, the other doubles ace, pulled out of the tournament because it doesn’t offer any ranking points following Wimbledon’s decision to ban Russian and Belarusian players.

India hasn’t historically been a tennis powerhouse, even if the men’s team did make it to the Davis Cup finals twice, in 1974 and 1987, and Leander Paes snatched a bronze medal at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. But never has the quest for a singles champion appeared more daunting, even if more Indians are simultaneously playing on the men’s ATP and women’s WTA Tours than ever before.

Tennis in India might have traversed some distance towards shedding its reputation as an elitist sport, but it still has a long way to go before being considered commonplace, like football or cricket or hockey. Being an individual sport, the onus is on the athlete and his immediate support group – read parents – to do the heavy lifting in the early stages.

Bankrolling promising young talent therefore comes with a rider; unless the parents can either afford it on their own steam or are willing to go the extra distance by investing everything in their child’s journey, the road towards success will end abruptly and without warning.

While finance is a major obstacle, it’s not the only one. Ready availability of quality infrastructure and top-class coaching is another deterrent. Those who can, therefore, leave Indian shores and play and train abroad. But even so, they are late starters in the sense that they are at least in their late teens when they go overseas. The Europeans, the Americans and the Australians start a lot earlier, have greater access to both playing facilities and coaching, and because tennis is much more of an everyday sport there, the ‘sacrifices’ required in India need not be replicated elsewhere.

Challengers and Futures tournaments abound in Europe and the Americas, so the financial burden of travel and accommodation isn’t as overwhelming for the locals as it is for India’s best, who often sync their schedules so that they can travel and stay together and often share physios and trainers, if not coaches. Much of their time is spent on the Challengers circuit in the quest for ATP points that will open up more lucrative and prestigious Tour events. But the Challengers themselves are no walk in the park and with each defeat looms that sinking feeling that time is passing them by. The men at least have the luxury of having each other for company. For someone like Ankita Raina, who last year became only the fourth Indian to compete in a Grand Slam singles main draw when she lost in the first round of the Australian Open, life on the tour can be distinctly lonely.

The demands of modern-day tennis are varied and endless. The sport has become faster and more powerful, science has swamped preparation, tactics and analysis have gone to another level and increasingly, there is greater emphasis on mental health, a once-taboo subject that has finally started to be acknowledged with fewer inhibitions in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic. A strong, close and expert support group is as essential as high-quality tennis gear, but the professional support group costs money. To climb the rungs and start earning the big bucks warrants a tight support system. Caught in this inexorably vicious circle, the wheat gets separated from the chaff.

Money, of course, won’t solve all problems. The artistry that catapulted Indian men to the second week of Grand Slam tournaments in the past is now an unwitting casualty in the face of power-hitting which doesn’t come naturally to Indians, who aren’t physically as strong as the Europeans, the Americans and the Australians. That’s not to say that there is no place for flair, artistry or speed. Asians such as Kei Nishikori, especially, have shown that it’s possible to hold one’s own even without overwhelming power, but such examples are few and far between. For all his industry and speed across the court, even someone as driven as the Japanese knows in his heart of hearts that his game is unlikely to take him to seven best-of-five-set wins in two weeks, the formula that guarantees a Grand Slam singles crown.

A cursory glance at Indian tennis history will reveal that as far back as in 1939, the nation had a Grand Slam quarterfinalist. Ghaus Mohammad from Malihabad in Uttar Pradesh made the last-eight at Wimbledon, going down to eventual winner Bobby Riggs. After a lull, several touch artists burst forth from India, headlined by the exceptional Ramanathan Krishnan who held his own against the army of Australian greats and made the semifinals at Wimbledon in 1960 and 1961. Vijay Amritraj was a constant source of delight in the 1970s and 1980s, forming the revered ABC — Amritraj, (Bjorn) Borg, (Jimmy) Connors — of tennis, winning 15 singles titles and reaching a career-high ranking of 18, the highest ranking achieved by an Indian, man or woman. The flamboyant Amritraj reached four Grand Slam quarterfinals and was followed into the circuit by fellow Chennaiite Ramesh Krishnan, Ramanthan’s son, in the 1980s.

The touch artist won eight singles titles, reached the quarterfinals at Wimbledon and the US Open (twice), was ranked the junior World No. 1 in 1979, touched No. 23 on the ATP circuit in 1985 and defeated Mats Wilander at the Australian Open in 1989 when the Swede was the top-ranked player in the world.

Paes seemed set to carry that little legacy forward with his exploits in the Davis Cup and the Atlanta Olympics but gradually, he turned to doubles and soon, India became a doubles nation as he and Mahesh Bhupathi lit up the world stage before their infamous fallout.

While the men had role models, Sania was essentially ploughing a lone furrow among the women. She was outstanding as a junior and, armed with a bazooka forehand, made heads turn on the senior circuit as she climbed to as high as No. 27 in 2007. A debilitating wrist injury threw a spanner in the works, but Sania reinvented herself as a top force in doubles, winning six Grand Slams in women’s and mixed doubles combined. Her exploits solidified India’s romance with doubles, and she is still in the fray in the mixed doubles competition at Wimbledon, having made the quarterfinals alongside Croatian Mate Pavic. It’s no surprise thus that singles heroics are becoming rarer than hen’s teeth.