THIS is my 18-hour smile,” says Sania Mirza, holding a full pearly-flash as the lens zeroes in on her face. After zipping through 25 interviews the previous day (with another six lined up tomorrow), it would seem India’s newest sports hero is getting a crash course in Stardom 101. After a minute, though, she breaks out into a genuine giggle—“Ooh, my cheeks are aching.”One minute the hardhitter who took five games off Serena Williams in the Australian Open; the next, an 18-year-old from Hyderabad chattering about bead necklaces or wondering what to change her mobile ringtone to—game on, Sania. At her long-time friend Anuja Parikh’s expansive Marine Drive apartment in Mumbai, Sania looks relaxed as she hops from one photo shoot to another. “Every reporter asks the same questions,” she remarks. “‘How did it feel to play a Grand Slam? Were you nervous playing Serena? What are your strengths and weaknesses?’ I know all the questions and answers by heart now.” I ask if I can play a game of tennis with her if I promise to stay off the clichés, but she lifts up a foot to show an ankle brace; the swollen ankle she played with in Melbourne is still troubling her. So I suggest a game of pool instead—Anuja has a proper eight-ball table in one room—which, frankly, is more my pace. “Oh I really can’t play pool,” says Sania. “I can pose, though!” I drag her off to the table anyway—maybe I can defeat her at one ball game, at least. Certainly, in the game with the furry yellow ball, she’s a fiery opponent, with a whipping forehand that sent winners right back at Serena’s big serves. Everyone now knows that she’s the first Indian woman to reach the third round of a Grand Slam, but her mantelpiece has at least 20 other junior tournament scalps—most notably, the 2003 Junior Wimbledon doubles trophy. Sania’s been playing tennis for two-thirds of her life, and it shows. Crack! She breaks the rack solidly and pots a stripe in the middle pocket. Oo-kay. The thing about sporty people is that they’re naturally or genetically inclined to sport. In fact when Sania took up tennis at the age of six, it was from passing the courts on the way to swimming classes. What then started off as recreation, grew, with the encouragement of her ex-cricketer dad, into full-fledged competitive play by the time she hit her teens. By 2002 she was among the country’s top four women players in the under-16 category. When Sania hit her big forehands, the other girls used to run away. She has an instinctive game Krishna Bhupathi With five hours of tennis practice and another hour of working out six days a week, it would be fair to say that tennis is Sania’s life. “I’m not much of a party person,” she says, lining up another ball. “I don’t like dancing, I don’t drink or smoke.” “Yeah,” chips in Anuja, a former tennis player and circuit buddy who’s right now playing Sania’s pool coach. “In Melbourne I was like, let’s go out, let’s go out, and all she did was sit at home and drink milk.” Indeed, Sania has made public how she owes everything to God and parents, does namaaz five times a day, and doesn’t have time for a boyfriend. But watch as she hums Shakira’s Underneath Your Clothes (favourite musician: rapper Eminem) and swears as she miscues and sends the cue ball skittering into the pocket (“Oh f***!. Oops—you won’t print that, will you?”), and you know that, behind the perfectly scripted media answers and goody-two-tennis-shoes exterior, Sania the teenager is alive and well. Every reporter asks the same questions. ‘How did it feel? Were you nervous playing Serena? What are your weaknesses?’ This is the side that likes to relax on Sundays with friends, movies and music, holiday in Goa and study Mass Comm at St Mary’s in Hyderabad (“though I don’t know if I will use the qualification”.) But that’s not a facet seen by those on the other side of the net. “When she hit her big forehands, the other girls used to run away,” laughs coach Krishna Bhupathi (Mahesh’s father), recalling Sania’s blazing performances on the national junior circuits. “She has an instinctive game—you can’t tell her what to do, only what not to do. In 2002 we got her a wild card in a $10,000 ITF tournament in Hyderabad, and she won it without losing a set,” he says. Both Bhupathis play an important role in Sania’s life—Mahesh’s sports management company, Globosports, signed up Sania in 2003 after the former doubles champion saw her at work. They underwrote her costs, sent her to Boris Becker’s ex-coach Bob Brett for training, got her endorsement deals (from Tata Tea and Atlas Cycles). And Sania’s justified the investment, jumping in five months from 460 to 132 in the world rankings. Now, since her showing at the Australian Open, 18 corporates have already made endorsement offers, but Globosports says they will not be taking up more than two, to preserve Sania’s focus on her game. Sania herself is pretty clear about her target—to break into the top 50 by the end of the year. “It’s not going to be easy—her serve, fitness and strength need to improve vastly,” says Bhupathi Sr—but then, for a girl who says she can’t play pool, she’s one shot away from winning our game. “Who’s your favourite player?” I ask, bumbling my corner-pocket edge and forgetting my cliché ban. “Steffi Graf—she’s so graceful.” And pow, in rolls the black in punctuation. I quietly put the cue away. When the next Grand Slam comes around and Sania Mirza’s in it, I’m brushing up on my chess.
