A Malaysian comes calling

What made Razif Sidek one of the great badminton doubles players of his time? A camp for Indian players at Bangalore, in December 2001, throws some light. Dev S Sukumar reports.

NO problem, coach?
Not even when Park Joo Bong is hammering down 200 mph smashes at your body, down the alley, stinging the air with his thunderbolts and waiting for the minutest error?
"No problem!" shouts Razif Sidek, shaking his fist at his younger version on video. "C'mon brother! No problem, we'll take his smashes!"

The legendary Malaysian badminton doubles star, now coach, was animatedly clucking away at the World Cup 1991 final on video, which showed brother Jalani and himself facing another awesome pair, Koreans Park Joo Bong and Moon Soo Kim.
Now, Park is reputedly badminton doubles' greatest exponent. The wiry six-footer was banging away at the Malaysians, the shuttle barely a blur as it raced down from its great height. And yet the two stood stone-faced as they kept flicking it back. The first game had been lost, but -
"Never give up!" says Razif again. "You got to earn your point. You want free point? Sorry, next time."

Doubles in India, so far neglected, has suddenly emerged an important discipline. That's because premier international tournaments like the Thomas Cup and World Championships are played team-format, and one good player cannot carry his country's fortunes. The Badminton Association of India therefore sent an SOS to Sidek, one of the most highly accomplished players of all time, and deputed Vinod Kumar, a nine-time national champion, to assist him in a camp for 16 of the country's brightest prospects.

Rupesh Kumar, one of the 16, was shaking his head in disbelief on his way back to his hostel room at the Sports Authority of India, where the camp was on. "Amazing defence," he said. "It comes down to so much practise."

**

That's what Razif tried to inculcate in the trainees. He arrived with a schedule, asked for lots of shuttles, and observed the players keenly as he worked on them. To begin with, he marked the mornings for on-court practise, going over each stroke, and the evenings for weight-training and running. The intensity of the sessions was far, far more then what any of the players had previously experienced. The middle of the week was a half-day, and another half-day was allowed for games like football.

The boys and girls were having fun, despite all the intensity, and that was exactly what he wanted.
The skill wasn't a problem, he noticed, only fitness, speed, and consistency. To that end the sprints, shadow-training and multi-shuttle were directed.

Deepak Amarnath, a three-time national doubles champ, recalls this as the best camp he's been to. Of course, this had the distinction of being only the second camp meant exclusively for doubles. "He asked me how many smashes I could return. He asked me if I could return 100 in a row, without an error. That is the consistency you need at the international level."

Six of the 16 players were from Kerala (Rupesh, Deepak Amarnath, Sanave Thomas, V Diju, Jose George, Fatima Mohammed), five from the North-East (Oli Deka, Nandakumar, Joseph Chisthi, Ali Vokar, Bhaskar Bora), four from Andhra Pradesh (Jwala Gutta, Shruti Kurien, B Nagaraj, JBS Vidyadhar) while the last, Mitesh Hajirnis, is from Maharashtra.

**

The day begins with a slow jog and warm-up, followed by stroke sessions. Razif has a racquet in hand as he inspects the players on the four courts.

He's trying to get them to think about the game, modify their play, use the space. He's getting them to hit down the "alley" (the space on either side of the singles court included for doubles), hit crosscourt instead of always safely and predictably down the middle, think what the opponent was thinking...
"I played a doubles game against Razif and Vinod," says Deepak. "He just kept... out-thinking us."

He's pushing them beyond what they believed were their limits of endurance: the tiring multi-shuttle sessions, over an hour each, are followed by the draining "shadow" practise, but he wasn't through, there were practise matches coming...

And that's why, mid-way through the camp, he gave the players a talking-to. They had had a particularly draining weight and sprint session, and giving their best during the matches was just not possible. They played soft, and that riled him so much he called them together and asked them if they thought they were world-class, if their smashes were good enough. On court, he said, you give your best no matter what, else you aren't fit to be an international. It didn't matter if they broke down, he and Vinod would take care of that.

Maybe what he'd said wasn't new, but watching him on tape added a dimension to his words that no amount of explanation of theory could.

One of these videos showed him and Jalani against Indonesians Eddy Hartono and Rudy Gunawan in Jakarta. Jakarta means packed halls, intense heat, slow shuttles. Under these conditions, the Indonesians played their crafty best, reserving their energy by avoiding the smash, instead pushing and flicking. They took the first game, but the Malaysians hung on, the shirts sticking to their bodies because of the sweat, each player smashing three times before letting the other have a go, saving energy. It came to the point when each Indonesian was expecting the other to hit.

Vinod recalls this the best match he's seen. "When you're playing under such conditions you just feel like throwing everything away and jumping into the pool for a swim. Hanging on, maintaining concentration in adverse circumstances is the real test."

**

The matches are about over. Jose George sits with his right ankle strapped. The previous day he was revisited by his worst nightmare: only recently healed after a career-threatening ligament injury, the ankle was twisted during practise.
Razif sits beside him, consoles his fears, and talks about his game on the previous day. Jose and partner Rupesh were losing their semifinal against JBS Vidyadhar and Mitesh Hajirnis when Jose twisted his ankle. They'd had problems with Vidyadhar's smash.

"Move him around," says Razif. "Any smasher is good only in a given position. Simon Archer (world's hardest smasher) thinks he's good. I played him, he didn't want to smash any more at me. Move him around, disturb his rhythm."
Then he talks about how important it is to observe your opponent, use your eyes and ears, eat and sleep badminton, if you wanted to be good at the game.

 

The post-lunch session begins 4.30. It's a slow jog for 20 minutes and sprints, followed by more stroke practise. Rupesh believes each session here is about equal to three sessions that he used to do back home. Now he's far more confident of his fitness; but staying in this shape will be a problem. There are too many players at the Indira Gandhi Stadium in Kochi where he practises, too few courts; the shuttles are exorbitant at 600 a dozen. Luckily, his kit is sponsored.

On the final day, after a month of the camp, Razif distributes prizes. Sanave Thomas and V Diju, the country's most talented duo and world no. 25, win the first prize. Razif addresses the players one last time. He hopes they will do the country proud, that he will read their names in the newspapers, that they will continue to work hard. Always remember, he says, the opponent is working harder than you.

Rupesh is still in awe of the genial Malaysian. "He called me aside and told me I had talent. For a man like him to say that to me... is very very special."