For Love & Money

Not so long ago, the favorite exercise of Russia's political elite was the yearly hike to the top of the Lenin Mausoleum to watch rocket-launchers parade through Red Square. Today, a more vigorous leadership is choosing racquets over rockets, as the sport of tennis takes Russia by storm.

Appropriately enough, it was Boris Yeltsin who lead the stampede to courtside. His enthusiasm started in 1988 when he apprenticed himself to former Soviet Davis Cup captain Shamil Tarpishchev (whom he later appointed Minister of Sport and Tourism).

When Yeltsin became President, his passion for the sport was taken up by his retinue. The President's Chief Aide Viktor Ilyushin, Presidential Security Chief Alexander Korzhakov, Defense Minister Pavel Grachev and Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev all know the difference between a backhand and a forehand.

The only Executive Branch VIP not regularly spotted on the courts is Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin. But even he couldn't stay away from the Davis Cup Finals held in Moscow December 1-3. Here in Moscow's Olympic Stadium, Russian tennis fever reached its zenith, as a Cinderella Russian team squared off with the heavily-favored American squad.

The event was so popular that good seats were selling on the black market for $100-$200 (two to four times face value), while passes to the VIP lounge and restaurant were going for up to $1,000.

Yeltsin was forbidden by his doctors from attending the Davis Cup  the excitement was considered too great for the recovering President, who was forced to watch the match on TV. Coincidentally, perhaps, Russian state-operated Channel One suspended a large portion of its programming schedule to broadcast the Davis Cup Finals for almost seven hours a day, pausing only to air mandatory political commercials for the upcoming legislative elections. Not since Communist Party Congresses has one event enjoyed so much air time.

Throughout Davis Cup weekend, Russian sports fans not lucky enough to attend the actual event were glued to their TV sets. Patriotic Russian fans even painted their faces with the national colors.

In the end, the Russian squad succumbed to the heavily favored Americans 2-3, but the match was closer than anyone expected. The Russians played on their home turf not as if to salvage respect, but to win.

First-ranked Pete Sampras narrowly escaped Andrei Chesnokov (ranked 91st) in the opening match. After the final point of their dramatic five-set contest, Sampras collapsed on the court from a combination of muscle cramps and emotion. When, in the next match, Russian ace Yevgeny Kafelnikov swept Jim Courier in three sets, it seemed a pointed rebuke to US captain Tom Gullikson, who had boasted prior to the match-up that his team could beat the Russians "even on ice." In fact, Gullikson was compelled to press the wearied Sampras into doubles action on the second day in order to secure the decisive point.

Even though the home team lost,  the spectators gathered within the massive Olympic Sport Complex witnessed one of the finest moments in the history of Russian tennis. For the second consecutive year, Russia had reached the finals  this year after a spectacular semi-finals upset over a loaded German squad. For the first time ever, the Russian public could see live and up close the world's top players, including number one ranked Pete Sampras, second-ranked Andre Agassi, fourth-ranked Boris Becker and, of course, local favorite and sixth-ranked Yevgeny Kafelnikov.

For those still adjusting to a post-Soviet world, Russia and tennis may seem an odd hybrid. From the 1950s to the 70s, tennis was the concealed preserve of the Soviet elite. Military officers and well-known artists would unsheathe their rackets behind the tall fences of restricted sanatoria. Tennis coaches were reduced to begging at Russian schools in search of talented pupils who would agree to take up this "bourgeois pastime." In those days, parents preferred to give up their children to prestige sports like soccer, ice hockey and figure skating the so called Ômedal sports' upon which the Soviet State Sports Committee Goskomsport  focused its considerable resources. Even rowing was higher on the Goskomsport priority list than tennis.

Financial obscurity was not the only indignity visited upon tennis by Soviet authorities. Politics held the game back as well. Sometimes players were even instructed as to whom they could play. Renowned Russian tennis guru Semen Belits-Geyman recalled in his memoirs that, in the late 60s, Soviet player Thomas Leyus (from Estonia) was ordered to throw a match against Greek Nicholas Karagelopulos because Goskomsport heavies didn't want him on the same court with a South-African player in the upcoming round of the French Open  (official policy was to shun South-Africa, though quietly). In the 70s, the Soviet Davis Cup team was forbidden to play Chile as a protest against the rightist Pinochet regime.

The first signs of tennis perestroika came in 1987, when the sport became an Olympic event and Soviet sport authorities beefed up their training infrastructure in order to capture more medals.

Increased support and facilities led to a higher profile for Russian tennis and some international successes. Russia's top players started looking for ways to break free of Goskomsport and keep tournament winnings for themselves. The first to do so were the now-famous Andrei Chesnokov and Natalia Zvereva (who later was ranked first in doubles with American Gigi Fernandez). Both were approached in the late 80s by Pro Serve  a leading player's agency  and offered lucrative independent contracts. Thus were the first Soviet tennis millionaires born.

In the 90s, Russia has become an increasingly popular venue for the world's leading players. Moscow hosted its first ATP tournament  the Kremlin Cup  in 1990. Another ATP tour tournament was recently organized in St. Petersburg. World class players now gather each Fall to play in the Moscow Ladies Open. Former greats John McEnroe, Bjorn Borg and Jimmy Connors recently met in Moscow for a veteran's tournament. 

Yevgeny Kafelnikov, the first Russian player to gain a number four singles world ranking, has poured his fair share of oil on Russia's "tennis fire." Nicknamed ÔKalashnikov' by Western journalists for the power of his ground strokes, he has managed to maintain a top-ten ranking throughout 1995.

Kafelnikov's example has stirred the dreams of a many a Russian parent. To date, he has earned more than $2 mn in prize money and a lucrative sponsorship from Italian sportswear giant Diadora. Little wonder, then, that every child at Moscow's elite ÔChaika' tennis club wants to play "like Zhenya" (the diminutive for Yevgeny).

Yet, it would be simplistic to attribute the resurgence of a "bourgeois" sport to Russia's embrace of a market economy. In fact, the foundation for Russia's current explosion onto the world tennis scene was laid in Soviet times. Chesnokov, Kafelnikov, Volkov and other Russian players praised in the media for breaking free of "state bloodsuckers" were in fact discovered and trained under the Soviet system. Though it must be noted that svyazi (connections) counted less in tennis than in other sporting circles.

During selection periods at the clubs, gifted young children were almost sure to be admitted, recalls veteran coach Viktor Yanchuk, who once selected Soviet pupils at the Central Sport Army Club (CSKA). And under the socialist system, kids were trained for free. Those accepted into Soviet tennis clubs received other prized benefits as well, like free uniforms, running shoes, rackets, strings, and paid travel to tournaments.

Granted, when a tennis prodigy grew up to play in ATP tournaments, Goskomsport would reap the lion's share of the benefits. The procedure was simple -- upon receipt of his prize check, the player would proceed directly to the head of the Soviet tennis delegation and hand it over. He/she would later receive a few hundred dollars in bonuses.

"But that was fair then because this is how it all worked under socialism" said Yanchuk. "Mind you, people who played for the Central Army Club or the Interior Ministry club ÔDinamo' also had military ranks and were paid their regular salary. These people were the first to receive a free state apartment, and they didn't have to wait in line to buy a car like other Soviets.

"Today, a pupil can become a good player only if talent and money go together," Yanchuk continued, "Just talent is not enough." In the past, tennis coaches earned R160-R250 per month, which was better than average by Soviet standards. But perhaps the biggest incentive for good coaches was the opportunity to train a world level player and earn the right to travel abroad with hard currency per diems.  Today, state coaches' salaries range between R400,000 and R600,000 ($80-$150), while even top coaches earn just R800,000-R900,000 ($175-$200)  still below the living standard they enjoyed under the USSR.

Thus, coaches today give the most attention to children whose parents can afford to "invest" in their children by paying cash on the side -- usually on an hourly basis.  In addition, parents must now cover expenses previously borne by the state, like travel to tournaments, uniforms, rackets, etc.

What this all means is that "playing like Zhenya" costs a lot of money. Yanchuk cites the estimates of his US colleagues, who claim that it costs up to $2 mn to train a top 100 player and more as one moves up the rankings. A system of domestic corporate sponsorships has yet to develop, though the Russian firm Tennis Management has signed contracts with a number of talented Russian juniors.

Yanchuk believes that in order to make tennis a real mass sport, Russia will have to build free or cheap municipal courts and provide for more affordable tennis equipment. In the meantime, Russian tennis really has become a "bourgeois" sport. The nouveau riche flock every weekend to Russia's handful of courts, where per hour fees can reach $50 (the equivalent of a young secondary school teacher's monthly salary). A can of three imported balls at an upscale sport shop sells for an appalling $18. Even Russian-made balls, notorious for their low quality, are sold for as much as R20,000 ($5).

"Tennis is bleeding our family dry," confesses Irina Prigoda, who took her 10-year old Sasha to a tennis clinic organized by top Russian players in November.

Her husband Timur earns $1,000 a month with a foreign company, and Irina claims that one-third of it is spent on tennis. "We pay the club $100 in entrance fees, and then we pay the coach. Plus, I don't want my Sasha to be dressed worse than the other pupils  Reeboks and Nikes cost twice as much here as in the West.

"At times I think of giving up and spending the money on private English lessons. But when I see him out there on the court, my heart just melts.  Who knows? If Sasha plays well enough to participate in international tournaments, he can learn English for himself.

"Even if he doesn't, it's better for his development to play tennis than to hang around the streets," Irina concluded. She's convinced that someone "who plays such a noble sport" can't be a hooligan...