Al-Ahram Weekly 23 - 29 March 2000 Issue No. 474
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875

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Egyptian double faults

By Yasmine El-Rashidi

If we were to reflect back to the early 1980s, think back to the Olympic pool of Ahli Club or the squash courts of Maadi Club, we would say, "Ah yes, that little girl who used to swim in lane three -- or four, or five -- has gone on to become a world champion." And the little boy who hit the squash ball wildly against the wall has made a name for himself as one of the top players in the world.

But what if one were to reflect on tennis?

Chances are, thoughts would bounce back in time to the early 1970s, when junior Ismail El-Shafei performed spectacularly at the prestigious grass-court Wimbledon championship, clinching the grand slam's juniors' crown. It was the first time an Egyptian player performed so well -- at any international tennis event. And it was also the last.

The question is why? Why could we do it once but not again? Why can we do it in other sports but not in tennis? And why are the Moroccans doing it so much better?

When the ATP tour posted the updated top-200 world rankings list on its website last week, Morocco had two top spots: Hicham Arazi at No 8 and Karim Alami, No 13. Egypt was nowhere to be seen.

"We have it all wrong," says Ahmed Bahr, one of Egypt's top coaches and formerly a top-ranked national player, plus a 20-year veteran of the German coaching scene. "We don't put enough into it, and so we don't get enough out."

He means planning and time and effort. And, of course, he means money.

"There is no system," Bahr says. "If there was, everyone would work harder. But why should the coaches give if they're not getting in return?"

All the coaches, at all the clubs, agree. They are not going to give all they've got if they get only LE10, LE15, or LE20 an hour. They want to make as much as the top coaches make: LE80, LE100 and LE150 an hour.

Chances are slim, however.

"People aren't willing to put in that kind of money," Bahr concedes, "because tennis is a risky sport. Sure, parents want their children to be champions, but they're not willing to take the same kind of risks that families abroad take. They'll pay for two, three or four years of training, but then they stop."

They stop because they don't have the same support that tennis families have abroad. And certainly, they don't have the options.

"In Germany, the tennis federation sends its top coaches to clubs to scout for talented young players," Bahr explains. "They go in disguise, spend weeks observing teams in training and then single out a player or two who have promising futures."

Those chosen few are taken under the wing of the federation and afforded the luxury of never having to pay a penny again.

"The federation has a few players which it is fully responsible for. It pays for their training, equipment, travel, and even schooling and lessons. That's what the Moroccans have done with Arazi and Alami. It's like that all over the world."

With the exception of Egypt, that is.

But it would be unfair to point the accusing finger at the Egyptian Tennis Federation, which like so many other governing bodies in the country, lacks substantial funds and sponsors. After all, they must be given credit for reincarnating the once-top-notch men's 'Egyptian Open', bringing it back to life on the grounds of the Gezira Sporting Club and luring some of the world's top players. And they must be credited with introducing exhibition events in the country, attracting locals to the sport by bringing stars such as Anna Kournikova and Arancha Sanchez Vicario to Egypt to "play for the people."

The federation is certainly making the effort -- but with a twist.

"We take the top players in each age group and help them with funding," says Heba Shawky, assistant executive manager of the Egyptian Tennis Federation. "It would be unfair to completely disregard those players who are winning and just spend on one or two young, talented players."

Unfair to the federation, but not to the coaches.

"They have limited funds," Bahr stresses. "They have to channel them right. They have to make a long-term investment."

Ask the federation and it says that it is.

"We founded a programme in 1997 called Initiative School Tennis," Shawky says of their long-term plan. "We've given mini-tennis equipment to 485 schools across the country, organised tournaments for them and designated a supervisor to each school. The programme is still in its first stages, but we hope not only to discover a few young talents through it, but also to raise the popularity of the sport across the country."

One can't say, then, that the federation isn't trying. It definitely is, but it's not quite enough.

"We need sponsors," says Bahr. "The federation can't do anything unless it has sponsors. But how are we going to attract them?"

How, one asks, can the federation attract sponsors to a sport which provides no evidence of having any future potential?

"We need to market the sport to investors," Bahr says. "And to do that we need a star. Like in squash."

The key, then, lies in finding a young talent, finding a tennis-crazy business tycoon like Ahmed Bahgat, who sponsors squash supremo Ahmed Barada, and planting the first seed.

"The problem isn't only in the sponsor," laughs Bahr. "It's in the parents, too."

The parents are the ones unwilling to let that seed be properly planted. They are unwilling to let their children get onto the courts and spend six, seven or eight hours a day honing their strokes.

"Work is work. If you spend eight hours in the office, you have to give eight hours on court," Bahr stresses. "Who's going to give you eight hours?"

No one, he believes, except the ballboys.

"They're the only ones with nothing to lose. They spend all their time on the court. Get a sponsor, pick a talented ballboy and you have a champion. But it won't happen. No one will give a poor ballboy that kind of chance. It's a social hang-up."

The hope, then, lies in the families who do have the money. The strategy lies in educating them in the right way to approach the sport.

"They have to decide," Bahr says, "how seriously they want to take it. If they want an Agassi or Graf, they have to put in the hours and the money. There's no in-between. And they have to pay the coach well. They won't get honey if they don't give flowers."

They need to devote themselves, pay, and then draw up a plan for their children.

"In Germany, the players travel around Asia, at the smaller satellite tournaments, gathering points. They get one point from here, one from there, and in a couple of years they have lots of points and a decent ranking," Bahr explains. "Then, with that ranking and the match practice, they go to Europe and they cause great upsets. Why can't we do that? Our players go straight from here to the strong European tournaments -- where they're qualifiers -- but, of course, they get knocked out in the first round. Right now the federation doesn't have the means, but if parents can pay for them to go to Europe, and pay for them to spend the summer at the top tennis camps in Europe and the US, why can't they pay for them to travel around Asia for a year or two?"

Planning, planning, planning.

Not just in tennis, but all sports. Take track. Why can Kenya, Algeria and Ethiopia produce great runners but not us? Why does Egypt produce just one champion in a few sports, once in a lifetime?

"The case of Ismail El-Shafei was pure luck," Bahr says. "His father was head of EgyptAir at the time, and so tickets weren't a problem. It lifted a huge financial burden from the family since travel is the biggest expense. For them it was easy. But you see, once Ismail stopped, tennis died. It shouldn't be that way."

It shouldn't because there should be reserves -- young princes and princesses to take over the throne when the king or queen dies. But Egypt has no king, and it certainly has no queen.

And for now, things don't look like they will change.

"When you plant a tree," Bahr says, "you take care of it until it grows, takes root and spreads its branches. You take care of it until the day it dies. The problem with us today, though, is that we have no trees planted."

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