Bengaluru, 28 December 2025: Two decades ago he was simply Sree. No medals. No limelight. Just a pair of weather-beaten, unsafe pads, a bucket of water to skid the ball on the turf, and an open invitation to anyone around: “Hit. Harder. Again.”
The Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium (as it was called those days) in Chennai was still proudly green in those days — Tamil Nadu’s first astro turf laid in 1995 under Jayalalithaa’s watch. And somewhere inside that complex, on the edge of the hustle, was a store room. Behind the goal post on the right, if you are sitting on the main grandstand. A cramped, ordinary space that doubled up as a bedroom and dining hall for a lanky Kerala boy who dared to believe he could guard India’s goal one day. No one believed, except one man called Steven David, who gave him permission to stay in that “Dog Room”. And maybe Shiva, who relentlessly hit umpteen balls until his hands ached, the stadium jawan.
You could see him there late into the night. You could find him there before sunrise. Up early morning at 3.30am… on some days. Practice was not a session. It was oxygen.
Once, when the Orissa girls in the junior camp held at the very stadium, they craved rice while only rotis were served! He quietly walked out and came back with ten small packets — Rs 5 each. “Only seven girls are there,” I told him, “five packets will do.” He smiled, bought ten anyway, and all ten disappeared in seconds. That was him — unassuming, generous, tuned always to the needs of others long before the world knew his name.
When I moved out of Chennai on transfer and landed at SAI Kengeri in Bengaluru one day, I thought hockey was slowly slipping out of my life. One dawn at 4 a.m., I saw a silent figure sitting under a large tree. Pads on. Stick across his lap. Waiting. Hours later, while I was rushing back for my newsroom shift, he was still there — same tree, same calm. Practice was at 3:30 p.m.
“Why don’t you rest?” I asked.
He smiled the way only he could.
“I can’t wait to get back to kicking.”
That was PR Sreejesh — breathing hockey, living it, trusting the game more than it ever trusted him. When few believed he’d make the Indian team, he worked 12-hour days as if destiny had no option but to agree.
And destiny did.
World Cups. Olympics. Podiums. A nation’s faith between the posts.
Now the Circle Has Turned
In 2025, as the Indian Junior Men’s Hockey Team closed the year with two international medals — Silver at the Sultan of Johor Cup and Bronze at the FIH Hockey Men’s Junior World Cup Tamil Nadu 2025 — there stood the same Sreejesh. Not in pads. Not under the tree. But on the sidelines, in the third floor, where I watched Shaju Joseph for 40 days without ever talking to him, every day, under Cedric for a National camp — shaping the next generation with the same hunger that once kept him awake. Just like Cedric D’Souza, he coached the Junior team to claim a bronze from the very spot where Cedric stood once. Same robust tactics, hope he overcomes other challenges that Cedric faced…
The foundation of India’s 2025 junior campaign wasn’t a miracle; it was the result of relentless, structured national camps across the year under his guidance or another coach… He didn’t simply select a squad — he carved one, insisting on discipline, tempo, and the joy of hard work.
The journey began in June at the Four Nations Tournament in Germany. Against European giants Germany and Spain, and the physical force of Australia, the juniors tested their structure. A fighting win over Australia secured third place and precious learning — lessons that would resurface later in the year.
Then came the Sultan of Johor Cup, where India stitched together a wonderful run beating Great Britain, New Zealand and Malaysia, and drawing Pakistan 3–3. The final slipped away in the 59th minute against Australia — a 1-2 heartbreak — but India walked away with silver, conviction and a growing belief.
All roads then led home — the Junior World Cup in Tamil Nadu.
Comfortable pool wins over Chile, Oman and Switzerland set the tone before a nerve-shredding quarter-final against Belgium went to a shootout. Goalkeeper Prince Deep Singh — calm as a monk, fierce as a warrior — produced two decisive saves to push India into the semifinals.
Germany proved a mountain too steep, but India refused to leave empty-handed. Down by two goals in the bronze match against Argentina, the boys roared back in the final quarter, slamming home four unanswered strikes to seal bronze in front of a delirious home crowd.
Manmeet Singh led the charts with six goals, Shardanand Tiwari and Dilraj Singh netted five each, while captain Rohit grew not just as a leader but as a drag-flick weapon. Prince Deep Singh matured into a guardian at the back, Arshdeep Singh and Dilraj added edge up front, and Anmol Ekka stitched defence to attack with tireless authority.
The Invisible Thread
But behind the medals lies a quieter story — of a coach whose life came full circle.
Because only someone who once slept in a store room knows under the very gallery where his boys won the bronze. What belonging means…
Only someone who once waited all day to train understands the weight of a dream.
Only someone who gave ten packets of rice when five would do, can build a team that plays for each other.
The boys didn’t just learn systems and structures. They learned ownership. They learned humility. They learned what it means to dig deep when the world looks away.
And maybe somewhere in Tamil Nadu this December, as the Indian juniors climbed the podium — a small memory flickered of that big shady tree in Kengeri, the early dawn silence, and a young goalkeeper who simply could not wait to get back to kicking.
A Legacy That Breathes
PR Sreejesh has guarded India’s hope for more than a decade. Now, he is guarding its future — not with saves, but with belief.
Indian hockey will count the medals, the rankings, the scorelines.
But those of us who watched him from those raw early days will always remember the boy who refused to leave the ground, who lived inside the game, who never walked away from effort.
And today, as a coach, he is still doing exactly the same thing. Only time will tell if he would make it long… but One thing I can vouchsafe, he will give 100 per cent, every match, every day, all his life!
Only now — an entire generation is watching, learning, and dreaming… May he get the wings and May his TRIBE INCREASE! Long Live Hockey!!!
