Power-crazy spoilsports

Even the president of the International Olympic Committee has a tenure limit of 12 years, and their officials have an age limit of 70. So why are our venerable politician-administrators, who have precious little to show for their marathon 25-30 years at the top, so opposed to sports minister MS Gill’s proposal to put a tenure cap? DNA reports on why our federation presidents want to cling on to their chairs — for ever and ever and ever.

The current battle between the sports ministry and the sports federations is only the latest in a series of occasional skirmishes; the last big one coming under three years ago.

Mani Shankar Aiyar — sports minister at the time — had proposed a two-pronged plan to change the way sport was run: bringing in accountability for results, or the lack of them, at the international level, and putting in place a regulatory body to look into the workings of the National Sports Federations (NSFs).

“The IOA will strongly oppose any attempt to take away the control of sports away from the autonomous bodies,” IOA president Suresh Kalmadi had thundered in response to Aiyar’s national sports policy draft.

Earlier this week, sports minister MS Gill revived a 35-year-old regulation capping the tenure of individuals heading sports federations at 12 years, or three terms, and setting a 70-year age limit for holding office.

“We will take appropriate steps and not let go of our autonomy.” Kalmadi said this week in response to Gill’s regulation. Some things really do not change.

In the spotlight
Of the many politicians whose term is scheduled to end over the next couple of years if Gill wins this round, those of Congressman Kalmadi and BJP’s VK Malhotra are the most dramatic: the first because of the highly influential post he holds and the second because of the ridiculously long tenure.

Kalmadi, who beat B Sivanthi Adityan (who is now the president of the Indian Volleyball Federation) in 1996, has been elected unopposed as IOA president two further times. His current term is set to end in 2012. Kalmadi has also been the president of the Athletics Federation of India for nearly two decades now.

Malhotra, on the other hand, has been head of the Archery Federation of India for over 30 years now. Berlin Wall time-line comparisons are overused, but it’s pertinent to note here that when Malhotra took over, Limba Ram — India’s best known archer and now coach of the national side — was a strapping lad of eight.
So why do these leaders, who have led most of their adult lives under public scrutiny, hang on so desperately to these honorary posts? “That’s one thing that we, as former sportsmen, just do not understand,” an Olympian told The Mag, speaking on condition of anonymity. “I would be embarrassed to associate myself with non-performing, dysfunctional sports bodies.”

Joacquim Carvalho, who represented India at the 1984 Olympics and 1986 World Cup, is convinced that it’s nothing more than a power trip. “The first point is that not all politicians are doing a bad job. Sharad Pawar has done a lot for the Indian cricket board, and even Praful Patel has been effective for the football federation. However, there are too many of them who hold posts only for cheap publicity, to see their names and pictures in the paper,” Carvalho says.

Nothing more tangible? “As federation heads, they have the power to dole out favours, especially foreign trips,  and the votes they get in exchange keep them in power,” says another athlete. “At every big event I’ve been to, there are always three or four officials there who you can tell have nothing to do. Even they don’t know why they’re there.” Or, perhaps, it just boils down to the fact that they’re politicians, and if there’s a seat to be grabbed, then grab they shall.

No sportsmen, please
The obvious solution, those watching from outside agree, is to have more retired sportsmen in posts as administrators. Prakash Padukone, disgruntled by the lack of dynamism in the Badminton Association of India — formed a rebel body, the Indian Badminton Confederation, in 1997 and forced their long-serving president Fazil Ahmed to step down.

After a stint in administration, Padukone now runs his academy to bring young talent through, and heartily agrees with the move to limit administrative tenures. “It’s always good to have new people in charge as they bring fresh ideas to the table,” he told The Mag this week.

Padukone’s rebellion successfully shook up the badminton fraternity. Why, then, aren’t there more sportsmen in administrative roles? “The level of politics is too high,” Carvalho says. “For example, in the Bombay Hockey Association, less than 10 out of around 1000 members are Olympians. Most of the members have never had anything to do with hockey and are there only as a vote-bank. How do former players get a foot in?”

As for Gill’s regulation, the consensus is that it is only part of the solution, not the solution itself.

One of the more recent Olympic success stories has been that of Great Britain. Three years ago, keeping in mind the upcoming London Games, they launched a high-performance programme labelled Mission 2012. With money being pumped in and detailed monitoring measures in place, results were visible even in Beijing. At the 1996 Atlanta Games, Britain had won one gold, eight silver and six bronze medals. In Beijing, they finished fourth overall, with 19 gold, 13 silver and 15 bronze medals.

A tale that tells all
That, however, doesn’t seem to be an option for the federations here, who also recently opposed the suggestion to bring the Olympic association and others under the Right to Information Act. Great power with no responsibility: even superheroes don’t get that luxury in this world.

In 2007, just a few months after Aiyar put forth his sport- and sportsman-centric draft, middle-distance runner Santhi Soundarajan was stripped of her Asian Games medal after failing a gender test, a fate that befell South Africa’s Caster Semenya two years later.

Santhi, born to daily wage labourers in the Pudukkottai District in Tamil Nadu, was left to wage a losing battle and, ignored by the sport’s omnipresent powers, and attempted suicide by consuming poison. She now coaches children in her village but admits that she has all but given up hopes of competing again.

Semenya, meanwhile, backed vociferously by Athletics South Africa, took on the might of the international federation and, earlier this week, announced that she was preparing to make a comeback in June.

Santhi’s isn’t the only story of official apathy in Indian sport; it’s only the most dramatic in recent memory. And as long as those at the top continue to focus on their own chairs and ignore all that’s going on at the ground level, frequent controversies and intermittent success is the best that can be hoped for.