As results go this year, Sania Mirza hasn't stolen headlines. As rankings go, she hasn't dazzled the computer. From some angles, she's been a disappointment. From another angle, you wonder how did she get so far that her ranking even became a topic of conversation? Sania once revealed that coach Bob Brett told her he'd never seen a player with so many technical flaws. It wasn't a compliment. Her serve is an architectural offence that coaches have inspected, said if you want to rebuild this it'll take a year off the tour, let's just amend it slightly and pray.

Her backhand is of only reasonable design. Her movement isn't going to win her a Bharatanatyam scholarship. At 20, if you like she's re-learning the game. Suddenly a ranking, even of No. 66, doesn't seem that sinful.

Indian sport is replete with ironies and here's a terrifying one. Frequently, we lament the inadequacy of the cricket system (comatose pitches, shambolic domestic competition you know the list); but rarely do we reflect that compared to other sports, cricket is rich in its advantages.

We know how to make champions in cricket, we just don't care to. We know the route to success, we just don't take it. We have a legion of former world-class players whose knowledge can be exploited, we just don't use it.

But tennis, for instance, is bereft. If a child with substantial gifts is born to an Indian family, what does it do? Who do you go to? Vece Paes used to lie sweating at night, unsure of simple things like how many tournaments Leander should play. People didn't even know how to enter an ATP tournament.

Lacking in know-how

If you subtract chess, billiards and shooting, only Prakash Padukone, in the history of independent India can be considered a world champion in an athletic sport. There was no how-to book, no system, no world-class coaches, nothing to help you build a champion. Then, and incredibly, even now.

It's why no one picked up on Sania's technical defects till it was too late.

As her father, Imran, says: "If I knew 10 years ago what I know now she would have been a different player."

Let's go further. Let's say it's possible that though Sania ended last year No. 31 and this year has doubled that number, she could still be a superior player.

This theory, Sania likes. Of course she does. "I totally agree", she asserts. "I feel like I'm a more complete player." Last year she says she was lucky to get to No. 31 with just a forehand. This year, she explains, she can actually nudge a backhand winner down the line. Instead of only slicing her serve now she can add a little spin or go flat.

Learning again

Her muscles are trying to blank out the past and memorise new stroke patterns, her mind is being challenged to stay true to her changes even while the scoreboard is painful to look at. Sometimes it's hard to get an education and win at the same time. Sometimes the education shows in a win, like being dissected by Martina Hingis's scalpel, and then finding a way to batter her days later.

Next year, Mirza's test resumes. For a while we'll stay silent about her slide in singles rankings (as long she doesn't go on about her rise in the doubles ranking. It's nice, we're proud, but it's a sideshow). But, eventually, we'll have to judge her on her rankings, on results, it's the only way in sport. Eventually the bad draws, injuries, tough breaks, won't matter.

This game is hard. She knows. Ask her and she'll tell you about Miami, against Anna Geo Tatishvili, late in the third-set tie-breaker, when she hit a winner and it was called out and she challenged it and she was right. But instead of being awarded the point which would have been match-point, the umpire insisted on a replay. She lost the point and the match. And tears threatened.

Tears are good. It means she cares. It's what people want to see. Sometimes, the ranking will drop, the winning will dry up. But as the cricketers must learn, showing effort is a start.

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