YEAR TO THE GROUND

ARMED TO THE TEETH
The gun shots have been making all the right noises in the lead-up to the Beijing Olympics. It’s the surrounding cacophony screaming ‘medal’ insistently, that needs to wait until the medal is actually gunned down. With a year to go for Beijing and an Asian Championship to avail of in order to bulge the tri-coloured participation at the next Olympics, India sit pretty with nine quotas already—one more than the shooters’ total attendance at Athens.
Major Rajyavardhan Singh Rathore’s silver had the whole fraternity waking up to the possibility of the big medal from India’s fastest-improving sporting discipline internationally. But 2004 was also a lesson in how not to jump the gun, or strain a shooter’s nervous system.
“Last time, the hankering for a medal was so loud that the hype got to a shooter like Anjali Bhagwat. She was competing against Lioubov Galkina whose chances of winning the medal were 80-90 per cent. “Anjali was a serious contender as well, but seeing the fierce competition I’d have put her odds at 30 per cent,” says veteran shooter Ashok Pandit. The disconnect between expectation and thread-bare analysis of comparative competition, later caused some heartache. Shooting is a mentally strenuous sport, and Pandit believes that the lead-up preparation to the big event should be near-robotic, with very few distractions.
“You should be cut off from the feverish invasion of both the media and government authorities beyond a point just before the Games,” he says. Rathore almost benefited from being away from the prying eyes. Based on exceptional performances spread over the intervening years, shooters were straddled with presumptions of medals—not always taking into account their most recent run. “You should be shooting consistent scores regularly in training and abroad. It proves that you are technically and psychologically at par with the top guns. You can’t land there and expect miracles—the good ones will definitely finish 2-3 points off the winner.”
A definite pointer would be tallying the average of the run-up year’s scores with last Olympic’s medal score. But what has prompted the most cautious of voices to break into gleeful cheers is the confident charge of Indian shooters and the sheer number of contenders taking a shot at medals. “And there are more quota berths still to come. Some like Sanjeev Rajput surprised everyone with his impressive consistency,” says Pandit, who earned the qualifying spot in 50 m free rifle 3-position.
The country’s top shooters have overcome government delays in licenses and clearance, poor accommodation at SAI centres and worries over depleting ammunition before bringing home half the medal haul at last year’s Commonwealth Games and almost a third of the booty from the Asian edition a few months later.
“Moreover, it’s not one person doing it everywhere, but every competition’s had a new hero,” says Deepali Deshpande, who is gunning for yet another quota for the country in December. While Samresh Jung set the Commonwealth Games on fire and quickly snapped up India’s first-ever Olympic quota in a pistol event, Jaspal Rana made a smashing return to the spotlight at Doha. Stringing together a good sponsorship package, Abhinav Bindra has kicked off preparations in methodical fashion —complete with an Australian personal trainer, while Rathore spars with reigning gold medalist Ahmed Al-Maktoum.
Giving themselves a massive launchpad while shooting good scores regularly, Indian shooters are making the most of the increased international exposure. “Hungarian coach Lazlo Scuzak’s made a huge difference for rifle shooters,” admits Deshpande, adding that a stabilised coaching arrangement will go a long way in boosting their confidence and aiding their mental preparation. “Since the last Olympics, Indians have started training like winners.”
Athens was the first sniff at a win—Rathore’s medal signaled a barrier being broken. “Rathore ensured that we learnt to win three years ago. That was very important—moving a notch up and believing we can fight for a medal. Now don’t be surprised if a winner emerges out of nowhere,” Deshpande—with more than 15 years experience, adds. So, even as sane voices demand perspective and caution while picking potential winners, shooting enters an unfamiliarly crowded zone of achievers—with a whiff of more than gun-powder in the air.

UNCLEAN AND JERKY
They warn you to never ignore that excruciating back-ache. Yet, India did little the last time the sciatic nerve sent out a mighty call of distress.
Doctors can elaborate further on this longest single nerve in the body; weightlifters will tell you why the lumbar region—made up of the strongest vertebrae and so pivotal to their discipline, also happens to be the most vulnerable body-part, in this abject anatomical tale.
The image of Karnam Malleswari leaving the stage—holding her back—at the Athens Olympics was the embodiment of our weightlifting abyss. Two failed drug tests—an ignominious first at the quadrennial event—had shamed Indian eyes anyway. But the suspicious no-show from India’s only medallist of four years before was a defining pointer to the state of affairs: Indian weightlifting was diagnosed with a very weak spine.
Subsequently, this lumbar affliction sent the whole sport into a slumber—with a variety of symptoms like further dope positives, a slew of bans including a year-long national suspension and recent talk of a life-ban for one offender, quivering officialdom and absconding coaches. Names are irrelevant here—reduced to case studies. For, when still recovering from all those reverses, there is little left to worsen weightlifting’s seven-year itch, since that unusually sunny Sydney day. After that, it’s been all downhill.
With just a year to go for Beijing, where does the current scenario place Malleswari’s bronze of seven years ago? “Nowhere,” says former selector Wing Commander P K Mahanand, perhaps a little harshly. But the cloud of doping has meant the sport’s credibility is in shreds.
An outspoken critic of the federation and its ways ever since protégé Kunjarani Devi was denied her most-likely shot at the medal in 2000, Mahanand lashes out: “This drama of dope will recur at all big championships causing severe embarrassment.”
Both the last Olympics and the Commonwealth Games turned in ‘positives’, and the federation was chastised the second time in seven months of coming out of a year’s suspension. The National Games at Guwahati threw up the likelihood of a life ban for seasoned Sateesha Rai —a second-time offender—and the sport was in complete disarray. India even struggled to put together the $50,000 fine which could have bought them an early reprieve. They lived out the ban through to March 2007, but have hardly found their bearings since then.
Commenting on the findings of the KP Singh Deo Committee (set up after the twin fiasco at Athens), Mahanand continues: “It clearly held coaches responsible. Lifters are forced to take drugs, and India doesn’t even have an accredited testing lab. You sent unfit lifters, and wasted money the last time. Coaches are dummies, while foreign ‘specialists’ call the shots. Selections are not transparent.
“You should have open trials; give all lifters a fair chance to qualify,” he offers, before adding that the government wouldn’t be faulted if they didn’t send the team at all to save the nation embarrassment.
Not recommending anything as extreme as that, yet shrugging his shoulders at the federation’s dismal performance is Army Sports Institute (ASI), Pune, commandant Col Satpal Ahlawat. Weightlifting figured high on ASI’s list of disciplines, but disillusionment with the system has forced the high-performance center to rework its priorities.
“Weightlifting has huge potential, provided the Federation gets its act together. The only hope comes from fair selections,” Col Ahlawat says, though dismissing a long-period ban as a retrograde step.
“In fact, you need to participate in at least six tournaments a year. The Chinese will be out in full force in Beijing. We don’t quite have the numbers yet. In pure science terms, you need critical mass for a reaction to take place,” he explains.
The two Services men concur on numbers. “China have 1000 elite lifters, we have only 5-10,” Mahanand says. The colonel insists that WADA has got it right and the drug-menace will be effectively checked. “Its getting stricter out there, and there are clear indications of that in records—which used to be broken frequently earlier,” he says.
A total of 1210 were tested in 2005 with 37 suspensions, while 53 were caught in 2006 alone —the year in which the International Weightlifting Federation realised it had to bring in fines since several national federations—including Iran (9 positives), Russia (6) and Kazakhstan (5) were serving bans simultaneously. The year 2007 has seen six reported already and the phenomenon is worldwide.
Gymnasiums and residing rooms with syringes, vials and pills are tell-tale evidences, while a visit to the local pharmacy close to training camps will reveal how some even amateurishly dabble at restricted substances, available over-the-counter. No one knows if the year-long ban has done more harm than good.
On its part, the Indian Federation is playing the victim. “Not just the ban, even the government’s apathy has totally ruined any chances. Nobody should expect any medals,” opines Federation’s General Secretary Balbir Singh Bhatia.
“People hate weightlifting. They don’t even think we are a sport. There has been no grant for one-and-a-half years, no sponsors. Do people even remember Malleswari’s medal?” he asks. For a sport that fetched India that elusive Olympic medal just a few years ago, the scene cannot be gloomier than Bhatia saying: “We have to go with a begging bowl. We’ve mortgaged some of our assets.”
The ‘dope’ defense is fragile, though. “Nobody in the country knows who should be held responsible. The ground realities are difficult to explain, and the finger’s always pointed at the Federation. We have been strict, but the problem runs deeper. Besides, it’s not restricted just to our discipline, and is spread all across the world,” he said.
“We need money—even for testing—and it is the Government’s responsibility.” While wondering where the new crop would come from without encouragement and how to get sponsors who seem to think very little of the sport, Bhatia says: “Things are not rosy. But I have two girls who stand a fair chance”, without naming anyone.
“Our Commonwealth rankings are good, and 13 of the 15 will figure in the top-3, but no one cares. We will do our best for Olympics, but one has to invest in medals.”
Two current camps at Patiala and Bangalore will culminate in the selection for the forthcoming World Championships in September at Chiang Mai, Thailand—the first of Olympic qualification events. But even the federation is not talking seriously about the men. The probables will be announced on Monday, August 6. It could be a brand new week, though at this moment, India would happily swap it for a ‘clean’ Olympic day. And fewer of those spine-chilling tales.