Indulge me if you will, in a flight of fancy.
It’s
2015. At the World wrestling championships in Las Vegas, a fit and fine Sushil
Kumar is quelling rival after rival on the mat. A medal in the pocket, he also
sews up a quota for the Olympic games in Rio a year later.
So
back he comes home, this superstar of Indian sport, all set for another shot at
Olympic glory. And then something starts to happen. An upstart, let’s call him
Narsingh Yadav, in the same weight category starts to make a push of his own.
He shows sparkling form, impresses the coaches and wins a few international competitions.
He is younger. Feisty. Eager.
Upbeat
and enthused by his form, this newbie starts to chortle, “I know I didn’t secure
the quota but I really do think I am the best 74kg wrestler in the country. Why
don’t we have a trial to decide who will go to Rio? Sushil is a great wrestler,
but all I am asking for is a chance.”
We
are still on this imaginary trip, so let’s just keep going. Call me cynical but
the chances of the Sushil Kumar camp doing anything other than laughing that
suggestion off would be about one in the proverbial million. My gut instinct, when asked for a response,
the quote would be constructed somewhere along these lines.
“It
is our parampara that the wrestler
who wins the quota goes to the Olympics. Sushil doesn’t have to prove himself
in a trial. This is a non-issue.”
In the real world, circumstances govern our response to almost all life situations. Confronted suddenly with the once unimaginable prospect of missing out on an Olympic games, Sushil Kumar is grappling at every straw. From emotional pleas in the media to a knock on the door of the courts, there’s very little he hasn’t tried.
The trouble is he isn’t having much luck. The Delhi High court told him it was for the Wrestling Federation to decide. And the Federation boss, Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh says that if Sushil gets his way, it will open the floodgates for more contenders to demand trials against those who have won quotas. Singh contends that would be “unfair” and set a “dangerous precedent.”
Now,
Sushil is probably gobsmacked by that argument. Perhaps he could re-send a copy
of his CV as a reminder of his pedigree? Can he please be introduced to another
Indian with two individual Olympic medals? Can they kindly explain the
reverential hush that descends over wrestling arenas across the country when he
walks in? Does he need to really say that if the sport has a modern day
divinity in India, it is he, the pehelwan
from Najafgarh.
What
he is asking for may be an exception. But then, haven’t those who are
exceptional earned the right to do so?
It is only natural to feel a degree of empathy for Sushil. Since clinching the 2014 Commonwealth games gold, he has battled a persistent shoulder injury, soldiering away tirelessly to be ready for Rio. A large amount of money, estimated to be in the range of 75 lakh rupees has been spent on his training under the government’s Target Olympic Podium scheme.
It
could be argued, if he weren’t to even be given even a chance to aspire to that
podium, why was the expenditure incurred at all? Once Narsingh clinched the
quota, Sushil could have been withdrawn from the scheme and sent off into the
sunset. Those substantial funds could have been made available elsewhere.
That
position isn’t without a counter though. What if Narsingh picked up an injury?
Or lost form or confidence? In that situation, India would have a ready
replacement, well equipped to make a surge towards the podium with a track
record beyond comparison.
With
the clock ticking away, this conundrum will inevitably be resolved. Imagine
however, the fate of the man who does board the plane to Rio. On his shoulders,
in every bout he enters, will weigh the burden of this woebegone process.
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