A relaxing shower, at the end of a gruelling practice session, was what the Indian Davis Cup squad was hoping for. This was in October 1982, in Donetsk, a cold industrial city in Soviet Ukraine, where the USSR was hosting their World Group Playoff. Outdoors, in sub-zero conditions, the Soviets chose to play on clay. Anand Amritraj remembers heading to the locker-rooms after practice, itching to wash away the red dirt that jumped up and clinged on. Only, what the Indians often took for granted, proved to be a luxury. “It was absolutely cold, and there was no hot water in the locker-rooms. Then at the hotel, we had five rooms, but only one with hot water,” Amritraj recalls. “I was lucky it was my room. So, one after the other, everyone came in for a shower.” It was the second time India faced USSR in Davis Cup, and in 1982 it was the Europeans' turn to host. The hosts had the choice of surface and venue. Last month, the International Tennis Federation (ITF) proposed changes that will effectively end home-and-away ties, an 118-year-old tradition, among other amendments. If approved, it'll put an end to the real romance of the Davis Cup. Like Amritaj & Co going behind the Iron Curtain in 1982, traveling to unchartered territories has been one of the charms of tennis' unique world event. A Rafael Nadal for one will never travel to India again. Indian fans will never again get to see him play in person either. It''ll mean that smaller nations can no longer magnify their home advantage and dream of punching above their weight. They can no longer plot the downfall of Djokovic, the Federers and Nadals by making them wilt under the sun or gasp for breath in the higher altitudes. The traditional format of the Davis Cup helped to bridge the gap between skill levels and provided a stage to those players on the periphery to challenge the best in the world. Instead the Davis Cup will morph into being a team Grand Slam, negating the adventure that was central to it. Most of all, it is the death of the home fan. Or like Nicolas Mahut put, “they just killed the Davis Cup”. And of course doing with home and away will take away the experience that makes a player, years down the line, revel at how he ‘survived’ a tie – just as Amritraj remembers those cold five rubbers in Donetsk. Hosts USSR sought to make most of the home advantage. There was the weather, the courts, and unintentionally, the political whirring that created a period of uncertainty. The country's economy stagnated as domestic development was sacrificed for military expenditure. The war in Afghanistan had begun to unravel; a revolution was on in Poland, which would be the first time a 'satellite state' successfully challenged Soviet authority. In Moscow, the health of Leonid Brezhnev, the leader of the Soviet Union for 18 years, was deteriorating. The world’s largest country was bracing itself for another power struggle. And at the beginning of another cold Russian Winter, amidst a disgruntled population, the Indians arrived to play tennis. “It definitely was intimidating,” Amritraj says, who along with younger brother Vijay and Sashi Menon made up a three-man Indian outfit. “That time it wasn’t Russia, it was the Soviet Union. You’re behind the Iron Curtain, no phone calls, no proper food, and you had KGB agents around you at all times.” The trip to Donetsk had Amritraj worried. “It was scary even getting there,” asserts the 65-year-old. Along with Menon, Amritraj’s journey started at Los Angeles, from where they flew to London, and then caught a flight to Moscow. “We had to change airports in Moscow and go to the domestic airport. But the problem was nobody spoke the language,” he says. “The flight to Donetsk was in the middle of the night. We didn’t know where we were. We were sleeping on a bench, hoping that we were going to get onto the right plane to the right city. It was absolutely frightening; one of the worst experiences of my tennis career.” They did find their way to the right city, but India was completely out of their comfort zone. Uneven grass courts and warm weather was what they flourished in. In Donetsk, cold clay courts and dank weather is what awaited them. “When it’s that cold, the clay gets slightly wet and the ball picks up the dirt and gets so heavy you can barely lift it over the net,” Amritraj says. “The only option was to string our racquets to a looser tension.” Lower tension on racquet strings produce a trampoline-effect that generates more power and creates a larger sweet-spot on the racquet head. Racquets, usually strung at a tension of 55 pounds, now had to be strung at 45. “Now the problem was that they didn’t have a stringer! We had to swing hard and it was really tough. They were used to playing like that. They were physically stronger, and that’s why we didn’t win any of the singles matches. We only won the doubles because Vijay and I were a better pair.” Those were the days where the list of provisions a host country needed to organise for a tie was short. “Things have become a lot more staid with the conditions in all matches requiring a bare minimum now,” explains Vijay Amritraj. As the Indians struggled to cope with conditions, they shrivelled under the constant watch of their assigned ‘bodyguards.’ “We had two-three guys around us that were supposedly bodyguards, but I think they were KGB. They hung around us morning to evening until we went to bed,” Anand says. “Our rooms were probably bugged too.” Tormented both on and off the court, finally relaxed when they landed in Moscow for the flight home. “When we saw the Air India plane waiting to take us to Delhi, we were so pleased. It was the first time we’ve been so happy to see an Air India jumbo!” Anand says. “We wanted to get out as quickly as possible.” In that 1982 tie, India lost 1-4 and were relegated from the World Group. A month later, Brezhnev died, leading to the expected power struggle. Two more leaders would come and go before Mikhail Gorbachev took control and started paving the way for the creation of the Russian Federation. But before that could happen, India was to play the USSR once again. In 1986, four years after the chill at Donetsk, the two countries met again in the Playoffs. This time at home, in India. “We needed pocket heaters and faced all sorts of difficulties in Donetsk,” says Vijay. “Then we hosted them in Delhi heat,” he says with a wicked relish that's uniquely Indian Davis Cup, no matter who the team is. The dry October heat of Delhi was unforgiving in 1986 when the Soviets came down. And grass courts were dutifully chosen. “By the time the 80s came around the matches started getting televised, but still we had 12 thousand people coming to watch in India,” Vijay adds. Along with grass, the heat, and a sizeable home crowd, the Indians had another weapon: the choice of tennis balls. Unlike the Wilsons or Babolats of today, India played with Matchless and Namco. Former Australian player Alvin Gardiner wrote in his memoirs: “I swear, Matchless tennis balls were not round; they seem to wobble in flight. It was such a great name Matchless because the balls were indeed without a match.” Indians had grown up learning how to play tennis using those very balls, making them the ideal tool to throw off their opponents. “They were terrible,” says Anand. “They were sporadic. Some were heavy, some were light, some flew, some didn’t bounce right. But no problem for us.” Vijay and Ramesh Krishnan won the singles rubbers on the first day and the Amritraj brothers sealed the tie with a five-set victory in doubles. India eventually won 4-1. For USSR, Alexander Zverev Sr was the only player to appear in both the 1982 and 1986 ties. He won both his singles ties at Donetsk, but lost his singles rubber and doubles match in Delhi. He later emigrated to Germany, and now coaches his star sons: Mischa (world no 53) and 20-year-old Alexander Jr, the world No 5. The challenge of a host plotting conditions, and the test of a visitor adapting to them has been the charm of Davis Cup. The proposed changes now threaten to end it. “It (Davis Cup) means a heck of a lot in our part of the world,” says Vijay. “We played tennis for Wimbledon and Davis Cup. Everything else was a pay-check. The greatest honour was to play Davis Cup and see if there’s a way to beat the major countries at home.” India played the formidable Soviets three times before the country broke down to become the Russian Federation. The Amritraj brothers featured in all three ties, leading India to victory in the two at home (including 1974 in Poona). Even after the Poona-Donetsk-Delhi saga ended, India continued to host in the heat, and shiver outside the subcontinent. “This will definitely be missed,” says Anand. “The whole charm of Davis Cup was the home and away ties. And if we lose all that and play everything in one place, it’ll be like any other tournament.” Davis Cup shrinks World Group matches will now be conducted in one week and at one venue, replacing the home-away structure. 16 World Group teams will be joined by two more teams, and will start from a Round Robin stage, followed by knockout ties starting at the quarterfinals. Each tie will be concluded in one day and will consist of two singles and one doubles match, each as best-of-three sets. The World Group teams that fail to qualify for the quarterfinals will enter a playoff against Zonal Group teams. Zonal matches will continue to be held across three different weeks in the season. A storied past How the Brazilians melted in chennai heat India 3 – Brazil 2 World Group Playoff – 2010 – Chennai Somdev Devvarman remembers sitting in a swimming pool with Rohan Bopanna, not feeling too good about themselves. They had spent the previous few weeks rallying for Chennai to host the World Group Playoff against Brazil, led by then world no 27 Thomaz Bellucci. The idea was for Chennai’s notorious September heat to break the visitors. “Unfortunately,” says SP Misra, who was the captain of the Indian team. “The first day the weather was cloudy and pleasant. Not hot.” Bopanna managed to earn match points but went down to Bellucci in five sets. Devvarman then took on then world no 75 Ricardo Mello, but also lost in five. “We had played nine hours of tennis and we’re down 2-0. And we didn’t look particularly smart because the federation didn’t want it in Chennai,’” Devvarman chuckles. During the practice sessions in the week of the tie, everything went according to plan. The Indians saw the Brazilians training at least four hours a day in the heat. “We trained early morning and late evening, maybe spent 45 minutes in the heat. The idea was to conserve energy,” recalls Devvarman. After Paes and Bhupathi made it 2-1 on the second day, Chennai was hot once again for the reverse singles. Bellucci would retire in only the second set, and Bopanna came up with a three-set win over Mello to seal the win. “All the work Rohan did on the first day paid off for me, and all the work I had done worked out for Rohan,” Devvarman says. “So on Sunday, we looked like geniuses.” How playing Akhtar Ali against Pakistan was a problem Pakistan 0 – India 4 Eastern, Group B, Final – 1964 – Lahore Unlike the hype around cricket games, the Davis Cup ties between the India and Pakistan have been historically friendly. Weather conditions and the grass surface at Lahore weren’t unknown to the Indians. But the presence of Akhtar Ali in the India camp instead of the injured duo Ramanathan Krishnan and Jaidip Mukerjea caused problems. “One of the Indian officials called up Premjit Lall a day before the tie and said not to let Akhtar Ali play against Pakistan,” Ali recalls. “The official thought I’d get nervous. His thinking was, ‘oh, he’s a Muslim, so there’ll be pressure on him playing in Pakistan.’ But I had won a tournament in Jaipur a week earlier beating everyone. So Premjit told the official to go to hell. ‘I’m going to play Akhtar Ali.’” Ali went on to play the opening singles rubber against Zulfiqar Rahim and the doubles with Lall, winning both in straight sets. The 78-year-old had been involved in another incident a year earlier, when India hosted Pakistan at Poona. Ali was to play Rahim in the dead fifth rubber at a time when India was already 4-0 up. “There were some processions happening outside the stadium for me to not play,” Ali adds. “An official asked the captain (Krishnan) to not let the match happen. But nothing doing. I played. I lost in five sets though, but I beat him when we played at Lahore a year later.” How the Jaipur crowd made the difference India 3 – Netherlands 2 World Group, First Round – 1996 – Jaipur Captain Jaidip Mukerjea had to put up a scratch Indian team that included the spirited Leander Paes and new-comer Mahesh Bhupathi against powerhouses Netherlands. “We were underdogs. Leander didn’t have a doubles partner because Ramesh Krishnan had retired,” Mukerjea says. “I saw talent in Mahesh and I could see him go further.” On the grass courts at Jaipur, they were up against World No. 20 Jan Siemerink and the pair of Jacco Eltingh and Paul Haarhuis who would go on to win five Grand Slam doubles titles. In February in Jaipur, it wasn’t the hottest setting for an India-hosted tie. But the uneven grass forced the ball to stay low against the hard-court frequenting Europeans. The crowd too made a difference. “They were a bit unruly,” says Mukerjea. “I remember Leander serving for the match in the fourth rubber, and he was docked a point because of the crowd. That further revved Leander up.” Paes’ fourth rubber win against Siemerink levelled the tie at 2-2 before Bhupathi, who won his first singles, also won the decider against Eltingh. “I had nothing to lose. I was 250 in the world, he was 20 in the world. Everyone was just saying keep the match close because fifth matches in Davis Cup is not much about tennis, it’s about who can handle the pressure better,” Bhupathi says. Eventually, it was more a test of fitness, as Eltingh retired in the fourth set to settle the historic win.
