Destiny’s child, outlier, everyman: the many shades of P.R. Sreejesh Premium

P.R. Sreejesh: Indian hockey legend, overcoming struggles, defining moments, and relentless pursuit of excellence.

Star. Veteran. Prankster. Fun. Crowd favourite. Team man. Brother. Life of the party. Legend.

These and other such epithets have been used, often, for a 36-year-old whose name will forever be associated with the Indian men’s hockey team breaking the voodoo, removing the shackles and throwing off the albatross of a 40-year medal drought at the Olympics. The irony of six seconds defining a 22-year-long career, with its fair share of ecstasy and agony, is not lost on P.R. Sreejesh.

“That’s just how life is, isn’t it? I have made better saves, played better games, won tougher matches and yet, my hockey career is, in a way, all about those six seconds in Tokyo. And the funny thing is, it shouldn’t even have been that way, we were definitely the better side on that day and should have won easily. And then I would have been just one in a team of 16. I still am, but that final save brought me front and centre. Makes you believe all the more in destiny, right,” he says with a shrug, settling down for a relaxed chat just before leaving for Paris.

Destiny. The word has been intricately entwined with the man from Kizhakkambalam village, Ernakulam, in Kerala. How else do you explain the lanky youngster moving to the G.V. Raja Sports School in Thiruvananthapuram at the age of 12, far from his family despite never having been separated even for a few hours until then? Or being advised, and agreeing, to try out hockey goalkeeping even though that is one event his State, a sporting powerhouse, never identified with? Or getting selected for junior national camps simply because he managed to impress at the school level because the rest of his team was too weak to challenge the stronger States and the goalkeeper happened to be the busiest player on the field?

Athletes are supposed to be all about their performance on the field, becoming idols to multitudes for their achievements. Yet, it’s the person off the field that often shapes and defines characters and sporting careers. Sreejesh, always ready with a smile and a selfie with fans, has managed to lock his struggles away from the spotlight. This time, he makes an exception, opening a tiny window into himself when asked why he wants to go to a fourth Olympics.

“When I first came into the national camp — the humiliation I faced, the rock bottom I hit on and off the turf — all that is like a fire inside that has never allowed me to sleep peacefully. That constant burning is the only thing that has pushed me hard every day, to keep getting better. Because after winning the bronze, I realised we are capable of doing better. A player gets satisfied once he achieves something but I think I haven’t got what I really want. I feel if we had only given that one percentage extra, we could have had a different medal. And that’s why I’m here. It’s one last chance for me to change that colour,” he explains.

It’s a rare insight into a man known for his sense of humour. Sreejesh has often spoken about his initial struggles, his lack of resources and the linguistic barrier, his hesitation to step up amidst stronger, more confident kids even in the national camp as a junior. What he hasn’t revealed is how much those early days continue to be a part of his present and drive his hunger for success. He says he’s ready, now, to open the floodgates.