Sindhu, Srikanth, and the All England question: Gopichand on its relevance and India’s hopes

The emotion of his win has crystallised into a clear perspective. “What’s so special about All England?” some current players ask. “Since I won it, I’ll say it’s a big deal!” Gopichand laughs but understands why it might not hold the same reverence today.

It’s the closest that badminton has to a storied chronicle, a tapestry that goes back considerable years. With year-round events that are annual Hamster wheels, very few tournaments still enjoy the legacy or history, with enduring tales of a Rudy Hartono and his keep-on-keeping-on wins year after year.

For Indians, the significance runs deep. Prakash Nath’s missed title for India in 1948 – after news of the partition-triggered violence upset him on the eve of his final – is a ‘what might have been’. Others came close to a title, before Prakash Padukone sealed it famously in 1980 to kick off India’s finest decade in sports all-round, including the 1983 cricket World Cup. By sheer force of his will, Gopichand dragged the sport with its fading one-off title 21 years later, right back out of obscurity, into public consciousness, and continued to believe badminton could line up behind cricket as India’s second biggest sport.

Saina Nehwal and Lakshya Sen have since gotten into finals, but not gone past the line, leaving the lingering wait for India’s next one for a quarter century now. Meanwhile, the All England itself lapsed into the battle of relevance for a young, restless, impatient-with-history young generation.

The World Championships are diluted, having become an annual fixture so a World champion holds the title for just 12 months, and so many get crowned. Those who don’t – lament it of course, but an immediate recall of who won it in 2002 or 2008 or 2014 or 2022, isn’t always possible. It’s tough to keep up, unless necessary.

The All England, however, has managed to hold onto its primacy, drawing commitment from earnest Asian shuttlers. The Chinese, Japanese and Indonesians, for whom it’s purely a prestigious badminton connect, take pains to peak for it. Indian shuttlers still secretly covet it, but it won’t sully Sindhu’s citation if she retires without it, though her badminton levels were uniquely fit for it. In years when the draw was kind, she bottled clutch points. The tournament and its Sanctum sanctorum positioning, however, is worthy of both bleak-street and Dr Strange prefixes, in the Indian context.

England doesn’t produce any players of note anymore. Not even in doubles. Immigrants outnumber locals, and for some reason, the British don’t see the mystical beauty in it that, say, a writer like John Le Carre once did.

The All England’s pull for Indians, though, can imminently fade. Gopichand, never a big fan of colonial rule, had drummed up the sentiment within himself after he once walked two hours back from a European stadium to his hotel, reaching at 3 a.m on a dreary night with the uncaring, cold hosts keeping him out, and his anger multiplied when condescended to by Europeans. He channelled that hurt to explode towards his title in 2001, training on the physicals, like a maniac in Bangalore. His idea of a colonial payback (one of the few things on which he bristles) was going to Birmingham and getting an Indian name on that British title.

Such sentiments are alien to young players now, and he says it’s why the All England needs to up their game to still look attractive to them, given China, Indonesia, Malaysia and Denmark are also Super 1000s.

The All England’s flaws persist: modest prize money and limited local enthusiasm. China or Jakarta may offer bigger stakes and fanfare, making them more attractive to players.

Still, it’s better to win the All England and then apprise its relevance, than throw shade on it without ever having won it. Gopichand explains what tends to make it difficult for Indians.

“Saina or Sindhu should have won; they were best equipped to. The problem for Indians is that the All England is a very physical court. It’s like the French Open, the field of play, the venue is very demanding in physicality. Conditions tend to be slow,” he explains, and Indians who love their attacking shuttles need faster conditions. Slow courts have cost Kidambi Srikanth greatness. Also, Yonex puts out its best shuttles on the court for the All England, and these are typically slow, extracting physicality from contenders. Simply, it’s good for those prepared for the slugging and not quite conducive for those reliant on shot-making.

His role as a coach now and a father of an elite shuttler too makes him downplay the All England’s relevance, and he seldom draws from his own tales when teaching his players. But the question, “What’s so special about All England?” is best answered by those who have won it. The proofreading of the pudding review is in having won it.