Back in 2009, this reporter took the first steps into a virtual museum of hockey brilliance from a time when India was the unquestioned ruler on the turf. The trophies, pictures and memorabilia, though, were dwarfed by the aura of the man in their midst — Balbir Singh Senior.
He was a stick wizard, but it was the warmth of his persona that drew people. Balbir Singh had already made a lasting impression on someone learning the ropes years earlier, during his several visits to Delhi, his aura felt every time he smiled and enquired, “How are you, beta ? ”.
That smile and warmth were always available for anyone who wanted to seek his guidance or simply have a chat on hockey. Especially the days of 1948, when a former colony overwhelmed and outplayed its former masters on their soil.
“With every raise of the Tricolour at the Old Wembley that day, the heart beat a little faster, the pride rose a notch higher, the eyes became moister. It wasn’t just a medal – it was India claiming its place on the world stage. And it had chosen us as a means to do that. What honour! That feeling can only be experienced, never expressed,” Balbir Singh told this reporter. The Tricolour mounted on the wall in his living room was a testimony to what that victory meant.
“The team won. Hockey is a team game. No one wins alone,” was his firm belief. At a rare public display of Dhyan Chand’s stick used in the 8-1 demolition of Germany in the 1936 Olympics final, during the Punjab Gold Cup in 2009, Balbir Singh held it and said, “What bigger honour can there be for any hockey player”. His own stature never got in the way.
From teammates to juniors to family, no one ever heard Balbir Singh raise his voice. The softness in his eyes was matched by the one in his voice. But there was no denying the firmness.
“Before the 1975 World Cup, we had a one-and-a-half-month-long camp in Chandigarh. Our hostel was opposite the girls’. After the in-charge of the girls’ hostel complained, Balbir ji , the team manager, would simply park himself on a chair at our hostel gates every evening to ensure no boy went out. And the respect he had, no one crossed him. I can still visualise him there at the gate!” Ashok Kumar, a member of that team, remembered.
His record is impeccable — India has never come back without a medal from a tournament that had Balbir Singh as player, coach or manager. His two books — The Golden Hat-trick and The Golden Yardstick — are a must for every player, every coach.
For someone so proud, India missing out on the 2008 Olympics was a catastrophe. He didn’t eat or sleep properly for days. That was the first time his family feared for his health. In some ways, it broke him from within. He was also broken by the disregard for history from SAI, which borrowed his medals and memorabilia but lost them. The three Olympic golds are all he has left behind.
The last time this reporter met him, Balbir Singh had become frail. But the mind was as sharp as ever. “Excellence is not an art, it is a habit. We have to do what we do best, not copy anyone. We did that when we played, never blamed conditions. Hard work can make anything possible,” he said. But it was all said with a smile — as ever, there was no trace of rancour.
Those first few steps were followed by many more over years. The smile, the well-tailored blue suit with a red turban and the soft hands raised with a “God bless you, beta ” were a constant. Not anymore. But somewhere up there, Balbir Singh Dosanjh and Dhyan Singh Bais would be teaming up for a new game.
