Seconds sub-standard, assembly line vacant

It was a day when eras collided, when older men, comfortable with their deeds, sat back, while new faces, glistening with ambition, stepped ...

It was a day when eras collided, when older men, comfortable with their deeds, sat back, while new faces, glistening with ambition, stepped forward.

Captain Ramesh Krishnan, the past, sat in his chair, a stoical, wise Buddha. The present sat down too, for by Sunday it was simpler for Leander Paes to count the body parts that weren8217;t hurting that those that were.

On court, walked the future. The tall, powerful Rohan Bopanna, who hits the ball with an acceptable violence, and Harsh Mankad, who has involuntarily exchanged power for a studied resilience.

The former lost to Scott Draper 3-6, 5-7 the latter to Wayne Arthurs 4-6, 6-3, 5-7, but it was not defeat that was worrisome, but India8217;s continued existence as a competitive Davis Cup nation.

India8217;s young players should be planning to hand Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi their pension slips in two years, but they are some distance from being ready. Bopanna is No: 363, Mankad No: 831 and Sunil Kumar No: 539. The fault may not be theirs, but a dazzling Davis Cup tradition is in danger.

In 1966, Ramanathan Krishnan and Jaidip Mukherjea got to the final; the Amritraj brothers did it in 1974, Ramesh-Vijay in 1987. None, barring Ramanathan was a Top 10 player, but then ranking, we proved, can be subdued by resolve. In 1993, Ramesh-Paes, neither ranked in the top 150 got to the semi finals, a feat that still defies belief.

Paes8217; deeds have acquired adequate legend, but Mahesh Bhupathi, unreasonably vilified this weekend, has been valiant in Davis Cup too. Their relationship is fractured, but, despite speculation, it does not interfere with either8217;s commitment. Time is their enemy, not each other.

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Krishnan is worried that that 8216;8216;there8217;s a little bit of a lull8217;8217; in players arriving to take their place. As he explains: 8216;8216;The rest of the world is changing, more people are taking tennis seriously, like Thailand, and Japan. We haven8217;t adapted to changes.8217;8217;

He points to the lack of sponsorship and coaches able enough to fashion a 14-year-old talent into a 18-year-old champion. Mankad, who studied in America, admitted he was 8216;8216;surprised to see how many good players8217;8217; India has. They have the hunger, he said, but craved direction.

Mankad is an underpowered player, a Toyota in a land of Ferraris, but when asked where he could find expertise in India to help him add muscle and motion, he was unable to answer. The responsibility is, alas, left to him; in Australia, the system takes charge.

India8217;s players have been more products of family enterprise than a functional system. Vece Paes and Krish Bhupathi, for instance, reached deep into personal pockets to develop their sons. But, using a word put to him, Ramesh, who was moulded by his grandfather, said: 8216;8216;We8217;ve lived on freaks, there8217;s no assembly line8217;8217;.

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Paes says, 8216;8216;The system has to improve for us churn out three-four world class players8217;8217;. Instead, Bopanna admits, that till 2001 8216;8216;all money was spent on me by my parents8217;8217;. In a professional world that beggars belief. The young players have pleasing gifts, and as the Australians remarked, Bopanna and Mankad8217;s ranking are an incorrect reading of their potential. But both, now funded by the All India Tennis Association, are 22, while a punishing Sunil Kumar is 19. Soon, ready or not, they will be our team.

In a perfect world, India would scout 14-year-olds, sculpt their bodies, hone their speed, hand them over to a traveling coach, and hope for one fine player to emerge. Instead, as India retreats back into the Asian Davis Cup zone, we merely hope.