Bismillah-Hir-Rehmanir-Rahim

(I begin everything in the name of Allah, the most benevolent and merciful one)
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Legend of Dhyan Chand: "Goal" Autobiography
Legend of Dhyan Chand: "Goal" Autobiography

I found out, that there is only one online copy of "Goal" the autobiography of
the greatest hockey player ever, which dives into his humility and the secret
of his success. Thus I decided to post it here, to save a copy.

FOREWORD

consider it a very great honour to be asked to write a foreword for this book.
I have known Dhyan Chand since 1924, and was present at the match in
which he earned the name "The Wizard".

It was the final of the Punjab Indian Infantry tournament in Jhelum. His side
was losing the match by two goals, and with only four minutes to go, his
Commanding Officer called out to him, "Come on Dhyan! We are two goals
down, do something about it." Dhyan Chand then proceeded to do
something about it, and scored three goals in four minutes and led his side
to victory.
Dhyan Chand has been, and is, the world's greatest hockey player. But
besides being the world's greatest hockey player, Dhyan Chand is also a
great gentleman - modest, unassuming, quiet and unspoilt by all the
applause and adulation he has received. We cannot all be Dhyan Chands,
but we all can certainly model our manners and deportment on his example
in the field of sport.
Dhyan Chand has put India on the world map in sport. We want another like
him; many more like him. And so I say, read these memoirs and the
instructional chapters, and play the game as he has played it.

Major-General A. A. Rudra

PREFACE
ou are doubtless aware that I am a common man, and then a soldier. It has
been my training from my very childhood to avoid limelight and publicity. I
have chosen a profession where I have been taught to be a soldier, and
nothing beyond that.

I have chosen as my most favourite sport a game, which unlike other sports,
has no statisticians or historians in this country. You will, therefore, forgive
me if my memoirs have not been chronicled in the correct sequence, and if I
have not been able to present all the statistics and records of matches I
have played, and the goals that I have scored.
I do not think man's intelligence could have conceived of a more fascinating
game than hockey. Perhaps I am wrong because I have not played other
games. But tell me which game is as fast as hockey? Which game is packed
with so many thrilling moments in the short space of 70 minutes. In which
game are you asked to wield dangerous weapons such as sticks, and yet use
them with so much skill that no one gets hurt.
Every since I started playing this beautiful game, I became one of its great
devotees. To me hockey has almost been a religion. More than anything
else, I owe to this sport a great deal for what I am today. But for hockey I
would not have made so many friends, and I would not have travelled far
and wide.
Hockey is a game of great skill. To play it well is an art by itself. It calls for
intelligence, keen eyes, powerful wrists, physical fitness and speed of mind
and body. It also calls for great sportsmanship, tolerance and coolness. In
short, hockey demands the best in you, both as a player and as a man.
Often situations arise during a game when you are provoked. But you should
exercise tolerance and show sportsmanship by putting restraint on your
temper, and then the game will go on serenely as if nothing has happened.
But if you take one false step, the field becomes an ugly scene. You lose
your value both as a player and as a man.
I must here mention the invaluable help I received from the great centre-
half Manna Singh in the preparation of the instructions part, and Mr. Pankaj
Gupta in writing the Memoirs. I must also express my gratitude to the
Editor, Sport & Pastime, but for whose insistence I would not have
undertaken this, to me, unimagined task of writing.
was born in Allahabad on August 29, 1905. I come from a Rajput family
which settled in Allahabad and later migrated to Jhansi. And Jhansi is now
my home.

My father was a soldier and so was my elder brother, and when I was
sixteen, naturally I also joined the army as a Sepoy. We are three brothers,
and you all perhaps know more about my younger brother Roop Singh than
myself, as far as hockey is concerned.
I could just read and write. I was not destined for any higher education. I
joined the First Brahmin Regiment in Delhi in 1922 as a Sepoy. I do not
remember whether I played any hockey worth mentioning before I joined
the Army. I do remember occasionally indulging in hockey in Jhansi with my
friends, comrades and playmates, not in any methodical manner, but just for
the fun of it. Roop Singh at that time never touched a hockey stick, nor
showed any fondness for it.
I realise that I am not a very important man, good enough to write an
autobiography, but I feel tempted to let my friends know a little bit of my
private life as well. Therefore, I hope you will forgive me if before touching
on my hockey career, I give a short picture of my military career.
As I said before, I joined the Army as a Sepoy in 1922. When I received my
first pay of a few rupees, you cannot imagine what a thrill it was to me. I
could then never dream that from a Sepoywithout much academic
qualification, I would be raised to the rank of a Captain in the Indian Army. I
feel very proud of it.
In 1927 I was made a Lance-Naik. In 1932 when I was a member of the
Indian team for the Los Angeles Olympics, I was a Naik. In 1936 when I
captained India in the Berlin Olympics, I was anOther Rank.
I received the Viceroy's Commission and was promoted as a Jamadar in
1938, and it took me four years to become a Subedar. World War II was
then in progress. I was given a King's Commission and made a Lieutenant in
1943. Then our country won freedom and I am proud that I got my
Captain's rank in 1948 in a free India.
When the First Brahmin Regiment was later abolished, I joined the 2/14
Punjab Regiment. I received my King's Commission when I was on training
duty at Ferozepur for seven years. I also put in, for a brief period, active
service in China.
I had a lucky escape once. My regiment was stationed in China in 1942, and
fortunately for me, I was sent back to Ferozepur just six months before my
entire regiment was captured by the Japanese. When the country got
divided, I was in the border town of Ferozepur, and naturally I opted for
India.
This in a nutshell is the march of my life. I am now the proud father of five
children, and not even hockey, which has always been my first love, can lure
me away from my family.
Let me start with a chronological listing of the outstanding hockey activities
of my life, before proceeding to the details. In 1926 I was a member of the
Indian Army team that toured Australia and New Zealand.
I believe that was the first occasion when Indians played hockey abroad,
except when some Indian students in Oxford and Cambridge Universities
occasionally took teams to the Continent during vacations. In 1928 when we
toured in Europe and played in the Olympic Games in Amsterdam, Indian
hockey was not quite unknown in the Continent because of the pioneering
work done by the Indian students.
I first captained India in 1934 in the Western Asiatic Games in Delhi. In
1935 I was the substitute captain for the Indian team which toured Australia
and New Zealand. The Nawab of Manavdar was chosen as the captain of the
team, but as he could not undertake the tour, the responsibility of leading
our team fell on me.
But the biggest and highest honour that came to me in hockey was in 1936
when, for the first time, I captained India in the Olympic Games, though I
had represented India in two earlier Olympic Games.
 Dhyan Chand in East Africa, photograph courtesy Olympian Pat Jansen

In 1947-48 when I was leading a more or less retired hockey life, playing
the game only sporadically, I was somewhat surprised when the Indian
Hockey Federation invited me to lead an Indian team to East Africa. I learnt
later that the East African people had, before extending the invitation, made
it a condition that I must accompany the team. With this tour came the end
of my career in first class hockey.

ow I shall tell you when I first started playing hockey. It was just an accident
how it came about. When I joined the First Brahmin Regiment, we had
a Subedar-Major by the name of Bale Tiwari who was a keen hockey
enthusiast and a very fine player. He took a fancy to me.

My regiment was well-known in hockey circles, and hockey was the only
outdoor game to which the regiment devoted most of its sporting attention.
Bale Tiwari initiated me into this game and gave me my first lessons. He was
my guru. We had no fixed times at the Cantonment to play hockey. We
indulged in it at all hours of the day.
From the very start I took a keen interest in the game. I showed promise in
the various practice games, and my seniors thought that in course of time I
would be a first class hockey player. I did not mix with the players of my
regiment much. I kept myself aloof most of the time. That has been my
temperament all my life.
I was thrilled when my Subedar-Major told me one day that I had been
selected to play for our regiment in the annual military tournament in Delhi.
That was the first big match that I played in. We won the tournament and
our officers felt very proud of us, because in military circles this annual
event was eagerly competed for. My position as the centre-forward in the
regiment team was permanently assured after this tournament.
I took a fancy to dribbling from the very start of my hockey career. Subedar-
Major Bale Tiwari, my guru, frowned on this tendency, and would never
allow me to dribble too long on hang on to the ball. He drove home the
lesson that hockey was a team game and I must pass the ball at the correct
time. I had no right to keep the ball to myself, he said.
Another thing I was taught was marksmanship at the goal, not so much with
powerful hits as with placements and push-strokes. These early lessons
stood me in good stead, and if present-day inside-forwards who occasionally
played with me thought that I was rude when I shouted for a pass, they
should not have misunderstood it. My brother Roop Singh got any amount of
scolding and rebukes from me when he indulged in pattern-weaving and
playing to the gallery.
Throughout my career I hardly played for a civilian team or in civilian
tournaments. My entire hockey, except in the Olympic Games, was confined
to regimental tournaments. The Jhansi Heroes was the only civilian club, as
far as I can recollect, for whom I played in one or two big civilian
tournaments.
But then, the Jhansi Heroes was our home club. We founded it and nursed it.
Jhansi boys always eagerly looked forward to my annual leave, as it was
during my holidays in Jhansi that I played a lot of hockey for the Jhansi
Heroes.

Dhyan Chand's statue at the Jhansi Heroes ground

And many a youngster who came into the first flight of Indian hockey at a
later stage in life learnt his hockey, I should say, from me or from the Jhansi
Heroes in our private matches in and around Jhansi. Kishan Lal, Mathura
Prasad, Roop Singh, Ismail, Nanhe Lal and many others played with us daily
in practice matches in Jhansi.
etween 1922 and 1926, my hockey was entirely confined to army
tournaments. I played a lot of hockey almost throughout the year for two
reasons: first, my little success in the Delhi tournament on my maiden
appearance gave me hope and encouragement to continue playing the
game, and second, there were whispers in military hockey circles about the
possibility of an Indian Army team visiting New Zealand in the near future.

Being a youngster full of ambition, naturally I felt, quite modestly though,

that I might earn a place in the Indian Army team. I was also nervous, firstly
because I was a youngster, and secondly, I was an Other Rank. In the
military code of life, it was not possible for Other Ranks to approach officers
and discuss even sporting matters.
At the same time, being very shy by temperament, I could not directly or
indirectly inform anybody how glad I would be if I were picked for the New
Zealand tour. I had been taught throughout that one must not seek favours
in any walk of life.
I was confident that if my form was good, and if I could show signs of
promise, my superiors would do me justice. In our military sporting arena, I
could hardly see any nepotism, favouritism or corruption in any sphere.
Therefore, with the greatest of zeal and enthusiasm, I played in regimental
hockey and also took part in the native army hockey tournament which was
the blue riband of Indian military hockey.
It was a great day for me when my Commanding Officer called me and said:
"Boy, you are to go to New Zealand." I was dumbfounded, and did not know
what to reply. All I did was to click my heels snappily, give as smart a salute
as I possibly could, and beat a hasty retreat. Once out of sight of the officer,
I ran like a hare to reach my barracks and communicated the good news to
my fellow soldiers. And what a reception they gave me!
I lost no time in getting prepared for the trip. I was not a rich man, my
earnings as a sepoy being only a few rupees a month. My parents were not
rich either. All thoughts of outfitting and equipping myself in the proper
manner for an overseas tour of this nature had to be given up for want of
sufficient resources. I clothed myself as inexpensively as possible, and my
main personal outfit was my military kit.
Nevertheless I was quite happy. All the members of the team, quite a few of
whom were Other Ranks like me, thought that it was a military expedition
and not a hockey tour, and that we must move about, feel and think like a
soldier. We enjoyed every bit of the tour. We never looked for luxuries or
comforts or the best of hotels or the best of everything.
We sailed from Colombo some time in April 1926 and it was a very quite
send-off. We reached New Zealand in early May. We played our first match
as far as I can recollect on May 13, and our last match around two months
later on July 17.
This was the first time that an Indian hockey team, more or less
representing the country, had travelled abroad. Our performances on and off
the field created a great impression throughout the Dominion, and wherever
we went we received nothing but the greatest hospitality and kindness.
As soldiers, particularly those belonging to the Other Ranks, it was a great
experience for us. Prior to this tour we could never conceive of being feted
and entertained at private houses and public functions in such a glorious and
enjoyable manner. We were made heroes, and on my part, if I may put it
quite modestly, I proved myself a great success and left behind a great
impression.
Those who travelled with me to New Zealand subsequently in 1935 will bear
me out when I say that although it was nine years since I last visited that
country, very few people had forgotten me. Wherever I went, my old friends
and acquaintances came to meet me, and some even travelled long
distances.
I still remember two ladies who travelled all the way to Auckland from New
Plymouth to see me play. They told me they could never forget my dribbling
and wizardry with the stick. I do not say this with any intention of showing
off, but only to impress upon the readers that during the 1926 Indian Army
tour, we did leave behind a great impression as hockey players and as
gentlemen.
We started our tour from the northern part of North Island and made our
way down to the southernmost point of North Island, Wellington, winning all
our matches by handsome margins. Wellington is one of the most important
hockey playing centres in New Zealand, and we played on its magnificent
cricket and rugger ground. To the New Zealander, rugby football is a second
religion.
Concluding our engagements in North Island, we crossed over to South
Island and proceeded to win all our matches comfortably, except against
Canterbury at Christchurch. That was a very close match, and at times I felt
that we were possibly going to meet our Waterloo. We fought every inch of it
remembering all the time that India's hockey colours must not be lowered.
We just won the match by the odd goal in three.
In our first test match against New Zealand at Christchurch, we won by 5
goals to 2. I must say that the New Zealanders put up a game fight, and it
was our perfect teamwork, superior dribbling and better marksmanship that
gave us victory.
After this match we left South Island and returned to North Island. We met
our Waterloo in the second test. That was our one and only one defeat
throughout the entire tour. We lost to New Zealand by 3 goals to 4. That
was a day when everything seemed to go wrong for us. Ground conditions
were bad, but I offer no excuse for our defeat; our opponents played very
well.
I have heard of Maori tapu and African voodoo and juju. I am beginning to
suspect that some good old Maori, just for variety in our long spell of
victories, chose to cast a tapu on our team.
We were a fairly tired lot when the last whistle blew. That evening we had a
date at some public function, but the defeat sat heavily on us. We all felt in
our hotel that we had returned from a funeral after burying a dear and loved
friend.
It appeared to me that the New Zealanders had by then sized up our
strength. They must have followed our style of play, our weakness and our
strengths, and used their knowledge to their advantage. The third and last
test was a drawn game, with each side netting one goal each. This means
that in the test series the honours were even.
Overall we played 21 matches in our New Zealand tour of which we won 18,
drew 2 and lost 1. We scored 192 goals and had only 24 goals scored
against us.
No account of my first New Zealand tour would be complete if I fail to
mention the grand play of New Zealand's captain Norman Jacobsen. I met
Norman again in 1935 at Wellington, but this time he was not a hockey
player but a radio commentator and journalist. Norman was a fine fellow and
a great player, and had he been in India, he would surely have played in
better company.
After my return from New Zealand I found that the trip had put me in the
limelight. The press and the people started talking about me. My superior
officers and colleagues told me occasionally that I had a big hockey career
ahead of me.
I was very pleased, but being a person of a quiet nature, even my jubilation
had to be kept in the background. There were many occasions when I found
my admirers talking about me in the military cantonments and army
quarters. I took the first opportunity to be away from such discussions and
gossip. I hated it, to put it bluntly. I always felt that a man is essentially a
man and it was unbecoming of him to show off and to make others feel that
there was snobbery in him.
Immediately after my return from New Zealand, I was made a Lance Naik. I
felt very proud of it. This was, in a way, a reward for a successful tour of
New Zealand, but let nobody get the idea that it was common in the Indian
military to give promotions to ranks based on success in the sporting fields.
Back home from New Zealand and back to the hard military life, I forgot
hockey for a pretty long time. In the military circles, they felt that we had a
good holiday and should now tackle the arrears of work. The hard military
life with occasional facilities for sport but no holiday to go home and meet
the family made me feel very lonely at times.
General (later Field Marshal) Cariappa, Major Dhyan Chand and Major Manna Singh in Delhi,
1950

But even then I did not forget my hockey. The success in New Zealand gave
me tremendous inspiration and in my heart of hearts I felt that the forecasts
about me might prove successful, and there should be no slackness on my
part. Therefore, at odd moments in the barracks, even all by myself with
just the hockey stick and ball, I kept myself very fit.

e heard whispers that India might send a team to the hockey event in the
1928 Amsterdam Olympic Games. You may perhaps remember that there
was no hockey event after the 1920 Antwerp Games. Hockey was scrapped
at the 1924 Paris Olympic Games, and many felt that hockey perhaps would
not be reintroduced.

The Indian Hockey Federation (IHF) had come into existence by then in a
very small way. It was born in Gwalior sometime in 1926 during the Scindia
Gold Cup hockey tournament, and became active in 1928. We heard that the
IHF was trying its best to persuade the International Olympic Committee
(IOC) to include hockey as an Olympic event.
The news at first did not give me any kick. I just passed it over and never
bothered about it, though my friends in my regiment constantly harped upon
it. Gradually I also started thinking - would India really send a team to the
Amsterdam Olympics, if so, would the civilian hockey authorities include an
Army man like me in the side, and if I did go, would my people at home like
it, and would I be able to live up to the expectations of those who selected
me?
My people in the regiment felt that if India did send a team to the Olympics,
the Army would not be neglected. Their case was that the IHF in those days
was largely conducted by Army men; in fact the president of the IHF was
Major Burn-Murdoch.
India's request was accepted by the IOC and the IHF decided to send a team
to the Amsterdam Olympics. The IHF was confronted by two major problems
- how to raise the best possible team from the very few Provincial
Associations in existence those days, and secondly, what procedure to use to
pick the best possible players. The IHF decided to hold the trials at Kolkata,
as Kolkata had always been the only centre to draw enormous crowds for all
kinds of games.
Kolkata has always perplexed me. I have seen cities that take special
interest in one particular game. Take Mumbai for instance. When she stages
first class cricket matches, for example, the Pentangular Cricket Festival,
you will find enormous crowds watching the tournament. Even if the Rovers
Cup tournament drew the best possible football teams from all over India,
you would not find such a large crowd at the Cooperage as compared to the
crowd at the Pentangular tournament. And in my time when I played hockey
in Mumbai, even the Aga Khan hockey tournament did not draw very many
people.
So far as Kolkata is concerned, it is a strange city in a way. It is immaterial
who is playing. During the football season you will see thousands of people
watching the football matches. In my time in the Beighton Cup hockey
tournament, and during the Inter-Provincial hockey tournament, I have seen
the largest possible crowd at the hockey matches in Kolkata.
I have heard that when foreign cricket teams visit Kolkata, the city draws
enormous crowds, and they say the same about their crowds for the South
Club tennis tournaments. The IHF naturally thought that Kolkata was the
best centre to hold the trials. It provides the best grounds and the most
crowds in the country, and the IHF was badly in need of money.
You may perhaps know that the Bengal Hockey Association was the oldest
hockey association in India, having been formed sometime in 1908. Between
1926 and 1928, two or three other provincial associations came into
existence.
The Punjab Hockey Association was founded, as far as I can remember,
sometime in 1926, largely due to the efforts of men like Messrs. C. E.
Newham and G. D. Sondhi. After its formation, the association sent a
provincial side to Kolkata in 1926 to play Bengal in the first official Inter-
Provincial hockey contest staged in this country.
There is a feeling in some ill-informed quarters that Englishmen did not do
much for hockey in India. This is not quite true. For my hockey I am
gratefully indebted to British Army Officers who not only took great interest
in this game, but also played with us on all occasions forgetting their official
rank and status.

Dhyan Chand - A Striking Personality

I heard from my good old friend Jaffar that Mr. Ritchie was responsible for
raising the standard of hockey in Punjab. Jaffar told me that he learnt most
of his hockey from Ritchie, who was a professor at the Chiefs' College in
Lahore. This Mr. Ritchie captained the Punjab team in 1926 against Bengal,
which was captained by the great all-rounder Alec Hosie, who played hockey
for Oxford University, Association Football for the Corinthians in London, and
cricket for Hampshire and England.

ive teams participated in the first Inter-Provincial hockey tournament in

1928 - Punjab, United Provinces (UP), Bengal, Rajputana and Central
Provinces. Kolkata hosted the tournament, which was staged with the sole
idea of selecting India's first Olympic hockey team.

The Bengal Hockey Association took the trouble to make the tournament a
success from every angle, particularly the financial angle. We all know that
but for the support and financial aid given by Bengal in 1928, India might
not have been able to send a team to win the World Championship at
Amsterdam in 1928.
You will notice that two major provinces - Bombay and Madras - were not in
the draw as they did not have Hockey Associations in those days. Bombay
was, and is today, a big noise in hockey circles, being the home of the Aga
Khan tournament, and I was surprised that they did not cooperate in this
national effort of the Indian Hockey Federation (IHF).
The Rajputana team was largely composed of players from the Bombay,
Baroda and Central India Railway, a team that had won almost every
tournament they entered in. I naturally expected that after the successful
New Zealand tour the Army would enter a team in the Inter-Provincial
tournament, and I would be on my mettle with my own men and not be
playing with strangers. I was surprised when the Army did not enter a team
in the tournament.
I was informed that I was to play for UP in the tournament, perhaps based
on my birth qualification. The UP team was sponsored by the Lucknow
Sports Association, as UP had no association to cover the entire province
those days, and Lucknow was virtually a provincial body.
I had my fears that since it would be my first appearance for a civilian side, I
might be a misfit and my civilian colleagues might not appreciate my game.
But very soon my fears were gone as the UP team welcomed me with all
their heart and gave me jolly good support, encouragement and assistance.
I have heard reports that the Army had approached the Lucknow
Association, and the authorities who were responsible for selecting the side
felt that with me as the leader in the forward line they had a very good
chance of winning the trophy, which eventually they did - the first
champions of the Inter-Provincial hockey tournament.
The Army authorities gave me permission to play for UP, and accordingly I
arrived in Kolkata straight from my regiment to join the provincial team. I
stayed in the camp along with the UP players, most of whom were strangers
to me.
N. N. Mukherjee, popularly known as Habul Mukherjee in the hockey world,
was a member of the UP team. I had heard of Habul's reputation as a great
player, and in fact he was. Habul, I believe, was the eldest member of our
team. With his great reputation and wide experience of conditions in Kolkata
where he had played in the Beighton Cup many times, I thought that Habul
was the obvious choice for the captaincy.
But that honour fell on our goalkeeper, P. C. Bannerjee, another Bengali.
Both Habul and Bannerjee hailed from Bengal but had settled down in UP. I
did not, however, bother myself as to who skippered our side. Dr. A. C.
Chatterjee was our manager.
At camp I mostly kept myself aloof from the other players, and joined them
only at meal times and during play. I admit that I have never been a good
social mixer. My temperament is of a peculiar nature. While at home or on
the field, it is my habit to keep myself quiet and just do my duty.
When we came to Kolkata, we were told that the tournament would be run
on a league basis, but later the IHF decided to run it on a knockout basis.
This was because the Calcutta Football Club ground, where the events were
to be staged, would not have lasted for so many matches if played on a
league basis.
The day I arrived in Kolkata I saw in the papers the names of the personnel
of the Bengal team. I was not interested at all because I did not know any of
them. I had not played in Kolkata before, or witnessed a Kolkata team play
anywhere.
But one name was familiar to me - F. C. Wells, the captain of the Bengal
team. Wells had played for Punjab as the centre-forward in the first inter-
provincial hockey match held in 1926 between Bengal and Punjab. Wells was
attached to the Army in a way, being a member of India's Auxiliary Forces.
On enquiry, I learned that Wells had shifted to Kolkata.
Wells was one of the best centre-forwards I ever saw in my hockey career. If
necessary, Wells excelled equally as an inside-right. I was surprised when
Wells failed to get a place in the 1928 Olympic team.
Wells travelled with me in the 1935 tour of New Zealand. It is my view that
on a wet ground you cannot find a better inside-right than Wells. Wet
grounds were almost the rule rather than the exception in New Zealand, and
Wells partnered me well in many of our games there.

Dhyan Chand - The Nemisis of Goalkeepers

In 1936, at Berlin, when we were badly in need of an inside-right, we sent

an SOS home to reinforce our team. I remember we mentioned three names
- Dara, Wells and Eric Henderson of Kolkata. We got Dara. I was hoping that
Wells would be sent, not because Wells was better than Dara, but I had
played with Wells on my right and Roop Singh on my left the previous year
in New Zealand, and Wells knew my game better.
n the opening day of the Inter-Provincial tournament, on February 13, 1928,
Bengal played the Central Provinces (CP) and easily won by 5 goals to 1. We
were there to witness the match. Bengal were one goal down at the interval,
but their superiority was never in doubt. It appeared to me that the Bengal
team was over-confident and rather underestimated the CP team.

Bengal captain F. C. Wells became ferocious after the interval. The equaliser
was soon obtained to which Bengal added four more goals contributed by
Frank Wells, Deefholts, Neil and Scott to win 5-1. The CP team was fairly
good. Two of their players were later included in the Olympic team - Rocque
and Norris.
That evening the Bengal Hockey Association organised a dance at the
Wellington YMCA. Everybody asked me to come to the dance but I did not. I
was told the next morning that I had missed some great fun. I do not think
that I missed anything, but had it been today I would surely be the first
person at the dance, not because I dance, but because cold beer would
interest me.
On February 14, 1928, the United Provinces (UP) played Punjab. This was
the first match in which I played civilian hockey for a civilian team, and as
far as I am concerned, I will never forget this date or this match. Many
things depended on this game with regard to my future hockey career. I was
nervous for more than one reason.
Firstly, I was a stranger in the midst of a team for whom I had never played
before. Secondly, the selectors of the UP team were there. They too had
their doubts whether I would fit in, and if I did not, I felt they would be
justified in replacing me with somebody else. Finally, somewhere in the
stands were severely critical eyes watching every movement of mine to see
if the reputation I had made in New Zealand had deteriorated in any way.
It was a memorable match which ended in a draw with each side scoring
three goals. The way Punjab drew level with us was nothing short of a
miracle. Let me quote from The Statesman of Kolkata:
"The UP team was leading by three goals to one, and there was only a
minute left for play. Hopeless as the situation looked, Punjab never gave up
trying, and scored a goal to reduce the arrears to one. The spectators
applauded the goal, but only half-heartedly, as if paying tribute to a plucky
side who they thought were fighting in vain. Indeed, there did not seem to
be time for another goal. But Feroze Khan, the Punjab centre-forward, shot
away for the UP goal straight from the bully-off, went through the opposing
defence and had the ball in the net before anyone quite realized what was
happening.
The outstanding forward on the field was Dhyan Chand, the UP centre-
forward, who is likely to be chosen for the Indian team that is to visit
England and play in the Olympic Games in Amsterdam. Dhyan Chand, in
addition to his brilliant stickwork, was the main spring of his side's attack.
The opposing centre-half, Eric Pinniger, was unable to hold Dhyan Chand in
check, though he was very efficient when tackling the other attackers.
The crowd had been waiting for Dhyan Chand to get going, and presently
they were rewarded. There came the period when Dhyan Chand
demonstrated that as a centre-forward he has few equals. His dribbling was
of the irresistible variety. He seemed to be able to pass opponent after
opponent at will."
The above description will give you an idea of the most dramatic manner in
which Punjab forced us to a replay. On February 15 two matches were
played, the previous day's replay and Rajputana vs. Bengal. We beat Punjab
by the odd goal in three in the replay. I must again fall back upon the
newspaper for the match description:
"Dhyan Chand was giving judicious passes to his colleagues and Seaman,
the outside-left, was playing a fine game. The close attention being paid to
Dhyan Chand, although serving to keep that remarkable player more or less
in confinement, weakened the watch on the remainder of the UP forward
line. This flaw in the Punjab defence finally led to their undoing.
Dhyan Chand was playing the right game, being content to search for
openings without trying to do too much on his own. He thus played a big
part in the revival of his side's attack in the second half."
I entirely agree with what the newspaper said. The Punjab defence clean
forgot that UP had a very clever forward line, and as you all know, out of
this line Marthins and Seaman were later chosen for the Olympic team.
Punjab paid heavily for this tactical error. We won by match by the odd goal
in three and qualified for the final.
I could do nothing right in this match, not because I was playing badly, but
because Eric Pinniger, the best centre-half this game has produced in this
country in my time, played a complete policeman to me all the time. He
would not let go of me, for he too had his prestige at stake. Pinniger was
fighting for a place in the Olympic team as a centre-half, and if I remember
right, he was captaining the Punjab team.
 Wizard Dhyan Chand in Full Flow

The following match was between Bengal and Rajputana. Bengal were the
favourites that day, and in my opinion, the better team. But the better team
always does not win the match. On this occasion also, I had the feeling that
Bengal underestimated their opponents and ended up paying the penalty for
it. Rajputana beat Bengal by two goals to one to enter the final.

n the evening of February 15, 1928, immediately after our replayed semi-
final with Punjab, we all rushed back to the camp, had early dinner, and
retired to bed. We were determined to do our best in the final the next day.
But sleep completely deserted most of us.

The senior members of our team, particularly Habul Mukherjee, looked

worried and distressed, and were busy discussing plans and strategies for
our team to outwit the Rajputana team. I did not bother much. I had a very
good knack of going to sleep quickly, possibly because I am an Army man
where we have to regulate even our sleeping hours.
On the 16th morning, till the hour scheduled for the match, we did not go
out and rested as much as we could. Our manager, Dr. A. C. Chatterjee, was
all excited, talking to each and everyone of us.
The day of the final was the third consecutive day we were called upon to
play. A very large crowd turned out to see the final, and the CFC ground, if
my memory serves me right, was almost full. We took the field with robust
enthusiasm, and we knew that our style of play would get the better of
Rajputana's indirect method of hockey. Here again, I can do no better than
quote from The Statesmanof Kolkata:
"The United Provinces were the most impressive side of the five teams which
have taken part in the tournament, and they fully deserved their success. UP
won the final virtually in the first seven minutes when they scored two goals.
The UP forward line moved with precision and smoothness in all the
matches, and that played a very big part in their success in the tournament.
Dhyan Chand as the centre-forward, and Marthins, their inside-right, were
particularly happy in their understanding of each other. Dhyan Chand
attracted much attention by his clever stickwork. His penetrating runs and
judicious passes seemed to assure for him a position in the team that is to
take part in the Olympic Games.
Quite early in the game, it became evident that Dhyan Chand was again at
his best. In combination with Marthins he took the ball away to the right and
Marthins did well to give him a good pass. Quick as lightning, Dhyan Chand
shot a goal. The ball struck one of the defenders' stick and went into the net,
giving goalkeeper Collie no chance. A goal within 3 minutes of the start was
more than what the most optimistic of the UP supporters could expect. At
the interval, UP led by three goals to nil.
On their part, Rajputana put every ounce of their efforts to score. The UP
goal had more than one narrow escape, but they were deserving winners of
a fine exhibition match. UP 3 - Rajputana 1."
February 16, 1928 turned out to be a memorable day as on this date we
created history for our Province by winning the national hockey title, the first
winners of this event. The UP team on the day of the final was:
Goalkeeper: P. C. Bannerjee
Backs: Ghazanfar Ali and Hammond
Half-Backs: Gurcharan Lal, Grave-Smith and Goodsir-Cullen
Forwards: Manek Chand, Marthins, Dhyan Chand, N. N. 'Habul' Mukherjee
and Seaman
We received a great ovation on the field immediately after the final was
over, and were literally mobbed. Streams of callers kept us busy till the late
hours of the evening, congratulating us on our triumph. I was struck and
amazed at the way the people of Kolkata gave us compliments and
felicitations after our triumph. Rajputana, who were sporting losers, were
the first to congratulate us, and we appreciated it very much. It was a
wonderful day.
Our manager, Dr. A. C. Chatterjee, went mad with excitement. He was very
happy and all smiles. He came over to me and patted me affectionately.
Here I must pay tribute to the care and love bestowed on us by Dr.
Chatterjee during our stay for the tournament. He was particularly kind to
me, and he realised from the very start that being a youngster and a
complete stranger to civilian company, he owed a special responsibility to
me. I am grateful to him for all his kindness.

Dhyan Chand's Team won the Inaugural National Hockey Championship

To my teammates also, I render my grateful thanks for the camaraderie

they displayed. We had a very happy time together. UP won the national
title not so much due to the individual brilliance of any particular player, but
to the excellent teamwork, and if I may be permitted to add, the stern but
welcome chastising we received at the hands of our veteran colleague, Habul
Mukherjee. I will never forget how Habul used to rebuke and scold us even
on the field. None of us took any offence. Habul was entitled to pull us up
whenever we erred.

ardly had the echo of the cheering we received on the field died down than
the air became thick with whispers, rumours and speculations about who
would be selected for the Olympic team. Tongues wagged that this man was
a dead certainty, and that man had no chance whatsoever. I must say that
the general form of the probables was of equal standard, and it was a very
hard job for the selectors to make their choice. The difference between one
probable and another was small and negligible.

After the final was over the authorities staged two further trial matches to
make up their minds, as they were not quite satisfied with the data available
to them from the Inter-Provincial tournament. The first trial match was
played on the same day that the final was staged. The venue was the
Customs grounds, adjacent to the CFC ground.
An IHF XI opposed the Central Provinces (CP). This was because CP had lost
in its first match and the authorities thought that they did not have a fair
chance as far as the selection of a national team was concerned. Today,
those who are responsible for the selection of players in our country would
be well-advised to take a lesson from this. The IHF XI won by two goals to
nil. One or two reserves of Bengal who had not yet played were included in
the IHF XI. The second and final trial game was played on February 17
between Possibles and Probables.
On Saturday, February 18, 1928, a provisional Olympic team was announced
in the press. The selectors, Major Burn-Murdoch and Colonel G. P. W. Hill,
announced that the team for the Olympics would be delayed by another 24
hours. I further gathered that the provisional team would meet a side named
as Rest of India on the CFC ground that evening. We learned that the final
choice of the team would only be made after that evening's game.
Naturally it was a battle of nerves for everyone of us. We first had the
impression that the Olympic team would be chosen based on the form shown
in the Inter-Provincial tournament. But then the selectors needed more data.
Then we were told that the final names would be announced after the two
trial matches. It was again delayed. Thereafter our fate was left to a final
trial match between a provisional Olympic team and the Rest of India.
This final trial match which decided the fate of all the candidates did not
have a single Rajputana player. But we never cared why a certain player was
not taken as many people do nowadays. I again quote a description of the
final trial match from The Statesman:
"It is very doubtful if better forward play has been witnessed in Kolkata than
was provided by the Feroze-Dhyan Chand-Marthins-Seaman combination. It
was not only superlative stickwork, there was a touch of genius in every
movement. The short passing game was made to look positively brilliant in
this game. The judgement of the selectors proved to be well-founded, for
the Olympic XI won by two goals to one." As far as I can remember, the two
goals came from my stick.
It was at last announced that only thirteen players would be chosen from
India, and three or four players who were then in England would be asked to
join the Indian team there. One of them was Jaipal Singh, who was then a
big name in hockey. He was the mainstay of the Oxford University team. As
a full-back, Jaipal Singh had a reputation in England. The natural and
obvious choice of captaining the Indian team fell on him and he joined us in
England.
The Nawab of Pataudi, that great cricketer, whether he was a Full Blue or a
Half Blue in hockey I do not know, also joined us. S. M. Yusuf, then at
Cambridge, also added to our number. Our manager, Rosser, looked for a
player by the name of L. C. Carberry, who was then in England, to join us,
but Carberry could not be traced. He was a well-known player of St. Xavier's
College, Kolkata.
On the morning of Sunday, February 19, 1928, the final names of the All-
India team were announced. That morning is still green in my memory, even
though I was sure my name would be in the list, since it had appeared in the
provisional list. Yet one could not be too certain. How we prayed for the
dawn to come quickly! Many of us had no sleep. Naturally in every camp
talks and speculation were going on.
One thing strikes me greatly when I compare the state of affairs today.
Nowadays, however much the authorities try to keep a top secret, in some
mysterious way the names leak out. In 1928, all I can say is that not a
single soul knew what was in the mind of the two selectors, Major Burn-
Murdoch and Col. Hill.
Mr. A. B. Rosser (now dead), who was one of the founders of the IHF and
was the Honorary Secretary of the Bengal Hockey Association, was the
obvious choice for the post of the manager of the Indian team, and we were
glad he was chosen as manager. Rosser was a great player in F. C. College,
Lahore, and later settled in Kolkata and played for the Rangers. Mr. Rosser
told me later that with his best efforts he could not find out from the
selectors how their minds were working.
Then came an alarming story. We heard that because the necessary funds
could not be raised, the IHF would be able to send only 11 players instead of
13. It appeared that owing to Bombay, Madras and Burma having turned a
deaf ear to the appeal for funds, the trip was short of funds by Rs. 15,000.
The announcement added that only if the deficit could be made good,
Shaukat Ali of Bengal and R. A. Norris of CP would accompany the team. It
is gratifying to recall now that it was mainly due to Bengal that the funds
were made available and these two players were able to make the trip.
If I remember right, the announcement also stated that in the event any of
the selected players were not able to make the trip, Boodrie and Lal Shah of
Punjab, and C. Deefholts of Bengal would take their place. But no vacancies
arose.
A doctor appointed by the IHF examined us and found every member of the
team fit. All the players intimated to the IHF their readiness to make the
trip.
The biggest surprise was the omission of Ghazanfar Ali, better known as
Chunnan, who was easily the best back in the tournament and an obvious
choice. Being a UP man and staying with us in the camp, it was a great
disappointment to us all when Chunnan was not selected. We learned later
that Chunnan was chosen, but the doctor found that a foot injury made him
unfit to play. My information is that Chunnan did not find a place in the
team, not because of his injured foot, but for some other reason.
After our return from overseas, I met Chunnan in Gwalior during the Scindia
Gold Cup hockey tournament. I could discern the agony and pain on his face
at not having been able to participate in the Olympics, but he was a good
sport. Chunnan, alas, is now no more, and all I would say is "May his soul
rest in peace."
Nowadays there is a wide gulf separating the players from the
administrators who shape the destinies of the game. The two keep to
themselves and seldom mingle. You know what I mean.
After the final trial match, the IHF convened a meeting of the players and
the representatives of the provinces which had taken part in the tournament
to discuss the continuation of the competition. I did not attend the meeting,
but I liked the idea. Will the IHF do likewise today? Back in 1928, the
governors of the game thought that the opinion of the players was also
necessary.
Major Burn-Murdoch, president of the IHF, explained why the tournament
could not be run on the league system because the Calcutta Football Club
ground might not have stood the strain imposed on it if the league system
was followed. He was glad that all the provinces sportingly accepted this
change, made at the eleventh hour.
I am referring to this because in my view it was a grand thing for the IHF
president to explain his action to the players and representatives. Have you
heard of a similar approach in modern times? The fact remains that the
attitude of the present day IHF officials is not in keeping with my conception
of sport. I will not be sorry if I am criticised; I am honest in my views and
convictions.

1928 Olympic Games Photo Identity Card - Courtesy Dayan Goodsir-Cullen

The members present at this meeting voted unanimously for the continuance
of the tournament, and it was decided that the Inter-Provincial Tournament
should be held every two years in different centres. Lahore was chosen as
the next venue of the tournament, because Punjab was the only province in
addition to Bengal to have taken part in the first competition in 1926.

he Olympic team assembled in Mumbai on March 8, and played a Bombay XI

the next day. Most unexpectedly we lost the match by three goals to two.
IHF president Major Burn-Murdoch and IHF vice-president C. E. Newham
witnessed the match.

While I have not the slightest intention of depriving Bombay the honour of
their win, three weeks of rest after the Kolkata tournament had made the
Olympic team slack and out of form. With the excitement of going abroad,
we did not worry much about the result of the match. I scored both the
goals for my team against Bombay. We tried our best to draw level, but
Cowton, the Bombay goalkeeper, played a grand game.
We sailed from Mumbai on March 10 on the P & O Kaiser-i-Hind, and what a
quiet send-off it was! There were only three persons present at Mole station
to bid us god-speed as the ship slowly steamed out of Ballard Pier - IHF
president Major Burn-Murdoch, IHF vice-president C. E. Newham and a
journalist S. Bhattacharjee. Such was the send-off accorded to India's
chosen team on whose shoulders rested the responsibility of demonstrating
to the world India's supremacy in this great amateur game of hockey.
Major Burn-Murdoch will be remembered from a historical sense as long as
hockey is played in India. But for his drive and initiative, the Indian Hockey
Federation would not have seen light of day in 1926, the Indian Army team
would not have travelled to New Zealand in 1926, and finally, India might
not have entered a team for the 1928 Amsterdam Olympic Games.
About Newham, I have to say a lot. He was largely responsible for forming
the Punjab Hockey Association, and as far as I recollect, he was its first
president. He was the vice-president of the IHF, and took a great deal of
interest in the matter of India's participation in the Amsterdam Games. He
was present throughout the 1926 Inter-Provincial tournament in Kolkata,
and came all the way to Mumbai to see us off. Charles was a journalist by
profession, and was the editor of the Civil and Military Gazette, Lahore, and
later was the editor of The Pioneer in Allahabad.
Charles Newham took considerable interest in the 1932 Inter-Provincial
tournament, accompanied the Indian team to Los Angeles and was very
helpful to us. I was surprised to see him in the 1936 Berlin Games, when he
was on the personal staff of His Highness the Gaekwad of Baroda. Newham
was the joint manager of the British Olympic hockey team in the 1948
London Olympics.
S. Bhattacharjee was then perhaps on the staff of The Times of India. His
father, the late N. R. Bhattacharjee, was the founder-secretary of the Bengal
Hockey Association, and was on the staff of the now defunct Indian Daily
News of Kolkata. Young Bhattacharjee inherited his interest in hockey from
his father, and was instrumental in forming the Western India Hockey
Association which lived for an year and then went out of existence. During
World War II, Bhattacharjee joined the Army as a Public Relations Officer.
These were the three persons, out of 400 million, who thought that it was
their duty to see us off at Ballard Pier, where, under the able fatherly
guidance of the late A. B. Rosser, thirteen of us sailed from Mumbai in quest
of Olympic honours.
The journey from Mumbai to Tilbury Docks near London was quite pleasant
and a new experience to all the members of the team excepting our
manager A. B. Rosser and myself. Rosser had accompanied football teams to
Java once or twice before, and I had already been to New Zealand in 1926.
We stayed on the deck of the Kaiser-i-Hind till we lost sight of Mumbai. The
boat then started rolling and most of us starting retching and were in bed in
no time. However, by the time we reached Aden we had completely
recovered, and Old Man Sea had no more terrors for us.
From Aden to Suez the heat was gruelling, and the only place where one
could be comfortable was one's own cabin or in the ship's lounge. The ship's
officers were very kind and considerate. We had Indian food whenever we
asked for it. Often we took liberties with the ship's regulations.
The voyage from Aden to Port Said through the Red Sea and Suez Canal was
an experience never to be forgotten. All of us were excited as we would be
seeing with our own eyes one of the world's greatest engineering feats - the
Suez Canal.
It was an awe-inspiring passage through the Suez Canal. Here was a canal
right in the middle of a desert, cut wide and deep enough to allow two or
more steamers to pass simultaneously. A railway line runs all along the west
bank of the canal. From Port Said and Suez its only a short run by train to
Cairo or Alexandria.
As the boat passed the imposing statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps, the great
French engineer who built the Canal, we all filed up on deck and gave a
smart salute. I experienced a similar feeling of admiration and reverence
when after the 1932 Olympics we sailed from New York to London. The huge
Statue of Liberty reminded us of the glory and history of the United States of
America.
We reached Port Said, and as the boat had a fairly long halt, we made a
beeline for the famous department store Simon Artz. We had no money, but
undaunted we visited Simon Artz. That was the first great department store
we visited, and we were impressed by the large variety of stores. Of course
after seeing Selfridges in London, Simon Artz suffered in comparison.
The weather changed suddenly as soon as we entered the Mediterranean. A
cold wind began blowing and we felt chilly. We were reminded that we were
leaving the tropic zone and entering the temperate zone. Few of us had
overcoats. My army overcoat came in handy.
The journey was uneventful until we entered the Bay of Biscay after
rounding the Cape of Gibralter. This sea, noted for its roughness, did not
disappoint us. The weather became squally and many of us had another
attack of sea-sickness. I had to keep a serious watch on some of my
colleagues. You know the terribly morose feeling that one passes into when
floored by rough seas. Some people get so bad as to think of taking one fell
leap over the ship's railings.
We dropped anchor at Tilbury Docks on March 30, 1928. Like Mumbai, in
London too we were not destined for any rousing reception. It was a cold
and misty morning, and we disembarked wrapped up in whatever warm
clothing we had - mufflers, sweaters, overcoats and even blankets. The
London Press, believe me, hardly took any notice of us.
We were welcomed by Mr. W. F. Smith, honorary secretary of the English
Hockey Association, Mr. Jaipal Singh, our skipper, Mr. S. M. Yusuf, who
joined our team later, Mr. S. H. Shoveller, England's greatest hockey centre-
forward, Major Ricketts and representatives of the Hockey Associations of
England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland.
After the Customs formalities were over, we pursued our way to London, the
London about which we had dreamed of, and which we were anxiously
looking forward to see. I was fascinated by the hustle and bustle of London
city, its West End traffic, the lights in the shop windows, the tube railways.
With a guide map to help us, we aimlessly wandered around. Whenever we
were at a loss, the London bobby, with his proverbial courtesy, came to our
aid. We were all housed in a small hotel and were happy.

Indian Team in Action in the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics

efore leaving for Amsterdam we played 11 matches in England. On the day after our arrival
we journeyed to Aldershot, the military headquarters, where we opened our itinerary. We played
against a Combined Services team and lost the match by two goals to one.
The beginning was thus inauspicious, but you must remember that as in Mumbai, we had no
practice. During the three weeks on board the ship, we could only run about the decks and take
part in deck games. Moreover, I feel that the result of this match should not have been on the
record at all because the famous English summer weather came to the rescue of the home team,
and the match had to be abandoned fifteen minutes early. It rained heavily, the ground was
soggy, and we had no footwear to cope with the English conditions.
Let me here narrate an interesting experience that befell us and reminded us that England was not
India. In India, whenever we got to the field for any match, our bearers and maalis carried our
kits and gear. At Aldershot, we failed to shed our burra sahib attitude and were shouting for
the maali to come and take our kits to the field. We shouted in vain, and then to our surprise
found the opposing team march into the field with each player carrying his own kit.
We then realised that England was not the land of koi hai. Here every player, be he a prince or a
pauper, must tote his own gear. Manager Rosser gently and affectionately rebuked us and told us
that we must carry our kit ourselves. Thereafter we made no error on this score.
Although we stayed in England for quite a long time before we left for Amsterdam to take part in
the Olympics, it was a great disappointment to us that we could not play a full international
match in England. The Hockey Board of Great Britain did not think it proper to play an
international fixture against us. We expected either England or Wales or Scotland or Ireland
would play an international against us and give us a thrill. Instead we played an Anglo-Scottish
XI at Merton Abbey, whom we beat 7-3, and played an Anglo-Irish XI also at Merton Abbey,
whom we beat 12-4.
We took part in England's best known hockey carnival known as the Folkestone Festival. In this
tournament the Hockey Association of England, instead of playing a national side against us,
gave us a match in the name of the Hockey Association XI. We beat this team 4-0. The Hockey
Association XI included 9 international players and 2 trial men. That being so, you might ask
what is in a name? All I would say is that it was a case of sheer vanity or pride.
After winning the Olympic championship in 1932 at Los Angeles, we made a whirlwind tour of
the European continent. On that occasion we spent a few days in London on a holiday. The
English Hockey Association took no notice of us, let alone think of playing a friendly game
against us.
A similar experience befell us again in 1936 when after winning the Olympic title in Berlin, we
spent a few days holidaying in London on our way back to India. Of course we were not
interested in any more hockey, but the point I am stressing is that the English Hockey
Association again disregarded our presence on their soil. However, the same association
arranged matches for the Afghanistan hockey team which also participated in the Berlin
Olympics and were in London at the same time as us.
It strikes me now that the loose talk we heard in 1928 during the Folkestone Festival might have
been true. We heard that England had initially entered for the Olympic hockey competition at
Amsterdam in 1928. But after the Folkestone defeat, tongues wagged and said that England was
scared of losing to us and hence withdrew from the event.
I reiterate that this is mere hearsay, although we fondly hoped that at least in future Olympics we
would have the honour of meeting Great Britain and showing them how good or bad we were. It
is my regret that this hope was never realised so long as I participated in Olympic events.
I envy the 1948 Indian Olympic team to whom fell that honour. How I wish I had at least been
present to witness the historic occasion. But, like most of you, I was fated to be thousands of
miles away at home listening to the radio and reading press reports.
We played a total of 11 matches in England, winning 9, drawing 1 and losing 1 - our first match
at Aldershot. These pre-Olympic fixtures served us very well, and by the time we left for
Holland in quest of Olympic honours, we could claim that we were fairly conversant with
English hockey. There was one more advantage in all these matches; since the team consisted of
the smallest number of men, it was often necessary for my teammates to play in different
positions in the various matches.
The ground condition in most matches was very unfavourable to us because England's April
showers played havoc with the field. The poet's desire "Oh! to be in England, now that April is
here" was inexplicable as far as the Indian hockey players were concerned.
I must say a few words about how England, her people and her press took interest in hockey.
Most of the matches were played before a sprinkling of spectators. We had a four-figure
audience only at the Folkestone Festival.
Hockey is not a popular game in England like football and cricket, even though the number of
 hockey clubs is very large and each country has its own Hockey Association, with a central
hockey board that organises matches between the four countries comprising Great Britain.
England's press, like her people, takes little interest in hockey. Hockey World is the only paper
which lists the various matches played in full. It is the official organ of the Hockey Association,
and is a weekly. It gives a systematic and methodical recording of hockey played all over
England.
In England's daily press, even the most outstanding and thrilling hockey match would not
command more than half a dozen lines. My name did come in for a meed of praise. I was called
the "hockey wizard' and "human eel". We stayed in England for four weeks, but I would not have
been surprised if even a few people knew that the Indian Olympic hockey team was then
camping in London.
I will close this chapter with some recollections of my teammates. Our captain, Jaipal Singh,
joined us immediately on our arrival in England. Studying in Oxford, he did not stay with us in
London. Once could travel from Oxford to London in an hour or two by train, and so during
match days he would come down from college.
Jaipal Singh's intimate knowledge of English players and ground conditions was of great help to
us. We found him to be an exceedingly popular man in England's hockey world. A most affable
man, he was a great hit in social circles too, as I found out in the few social gatherings I attended.
We considered ourselves most fortunate in having such a man as our skipper.
The Nawab of Pataudi, that great cricketer, was also an Oxford student and he played with us at
Folkestone. He did not accompany us to Amsterdam. Jaipal Singh and S. M. Yusuf, who was
then studying in Cambridge, played with us in the Olympic Games, the latter staying with us
throughout the tour.
Jaipal Singh, I believe, used to fly from London to Amsterdam most of the time, returning to
London after the match was over. It is still a mystery to me why Jaipal Singh, after ably
captaining us in England, and in two or three matches in the Olympic Games, suddenly left us. I
have heard many stories, but so far I have not had the truth.
I could see from the very start of our stay in England that there was a conflict at the top level.
Although Rosser was our manager, two ex-Indian Army men, Major Ricketts and Colonel Bruce
Turnbull, more or less bossed Rosser. I could sense that our manager Rosser was not quite
happy.
Whether this conflict at the top level had anything to do with Jaipal Singh's refusal to captain us
later is a question for others to answer. Some said communal and racial issues were involved.
Whatever the reason was, the fact remains that Jaipal Singh, the star full-back of Oxford, who
made a great reputation in the hockey world in the Continent and in Great Britain, and who by
virtue of his academic qualification and social status and knowledge of the game in those parts of
the world was eminently suited to lead us, could not do so right till the end.
On Eric Pinniger, the vice-captain from Punjab, fell that mantle. He led the Indian team in the
semi-final and final of the Amsterdam Olympic Games. I do not remember if Jaipal Singh even
witnessed our play after he left us. Something had happened behind the scenes, and the three or
four people who knew the inside story were manager Rosser, who is now no more, Major
Ricketts, now retired and living somewhere in England, IHF president Major Burn-Murdoch,
 IHF vice-president Charles Newham, who is now in England, and Col. Bruce Turnbull, whose
whereabouts I do not know.
All these men, for practical purposes, are not available, and it is very doubtful whether we might
hear the real story from them. The only one who can enlighten us is Jaipal Singh, who is happily
in our midst, and also perhaps Eric Pinniger who is in Pakistan. Jaipal Singh has now made
politics his career, and he had done much for his people, the Adivasis.

am not sure of the exact date we crossed the English Channel, and the exact
date we reached the Low Country, but we arrived in Amsterdam on April 24,
1928. We played four matches in Holland, two in Germany and one in
Belgium before we actually made our debut in the Olympic Stadium on May
17, 1928.

We opened our Continental itinerary on April 26 with a match against

Amsterdam XI, which we won 15-2. It was only a short run from Amsterdam
to Arnheim where our next match was played and which we won by eight
clear goals. The Dutch hockey authorities fielded their second Olympic XI in
a match on May 2 in Amsterdam, which also we won by a similar margin of 8
goals to nil. Later we journeyed to The Hague to meet the Dutch Olympic
team in our last match in Holland, and won this match also with
consummate ease with a score of 8 goals to 1.
We spent some time sightseeing in Holland before leaving for Germany and
Belgium from where invitations had come. At The Hague we visited the
International Court of Justice. I do not recollect whether the Court was then
in session or not.
We also saw the picturesque palace of Queen Wilhelmina, with its well laid
out lawns and gardens and crystal-clear sparkling pools of water. Holland, as
the very name Low Country implies, has a good part of its hinterland below
sea-level. A trip around those regions reminds one of Bengal or the southern
state of Travancore. Holland is rich in pasture land, and is famous for its
dairy products and fish.
Our manager Rosser and we ourselves wanted to visit the Kaiser's Doorn
home, a few miles away from Amsterdam. The Kaiser was spending his last
days in exile in Doorn, and we wanted very much to have a glimpse of the
man who reputedly was responsible for World War I.
Pankaj Gupta took us for a drive through a small narrow village which lay on
our way to Doorn. We saw Dutch women lining up the streets peddling fresh
fish caught from the dykes. The Bengali that he is, Pankaj Gupta remarked
that the sight reminded him very much of the villages in Bengal. These
Dutch women in their colourful costumes and wooden shoes presented a
typical rural Dutch scene.
When we neared the Kaiser's estate, we saw a burly sentry on guard at the
gate. His stony glare and statue-like posture was not inviting enough for us
to make further progress. We all had believed that the Kaiser lived in
obscurity, and it would be easy for us to gatecrash into his presence. We had
a desire to watch the Kaiser engaged in his favourite pastime of chopping
wood. But with such precautions around him, we thought it fit to retreat
without completing our mission.
An invitation came from the Deutsche Hockey Bund (German Hockey
Federation) to play two matches in Hanover and Berlin which we gladly
accepted, even though our players were not one hundred percent fit. We had
a keen desire to visit Kaiser's Berlin; neither the Berliners nor the Germans
as a whole knew of any Adolf Hitler then.
We played our first match in Germany at Hanover on May 7, beating a home
team by ten clear goals. From Hanover we travelled to Berlin where on May
8 we defeated a Berlin XI by five goals to one. It was an exciting game. Lots
of burly tactics, physical force and 'flogging' were features of German hockey
as I saw it then.
From Berlin we crossed over to Belgium for our fixtures there. The journey
along the famous Rhine river fascinated some members of our team who
had a poetic frame of mind. Brussels, the capital of Belgium, impressed me.
Brussels is a small and picturesque city, and some of its churches are old
and famous.
We met a Brussels team on May 13, beating them by ten goals to two. We
had a mind to visit Antwerp which is close to Brussels, but could not do so
because the time at our disposal was short. Antwerp is the city where the
first post-war Olympics was staged in 1920. We returned to Amsterdam on
May 14 and rested for three days before playing our first game in the
Olympic arena on May 17.
The short pre-Olympic trips to Holland, Germany and Belgium enabled us to
get acclimatised to Continental conditions. The climate in the Low Countries
is not so uncertain or as wet as in England. Grounds were also better in a
way, but I wondered why the turf in England and in the Continent was not
kept properly trimmed. The long grass proved a handicap to us as progress
of the ball was slowed, and our game of flick and push against our
opponent's game of hit and run suffered considerably.
The 1928 Olympiad was the ninth of its kind, and it was at the request of the
Indian Hockey Federation that hockey had been re-introduced in the
Amsterdam Games. All these years our country was looking for an
opportunity to demonstrate to the world her prowess in the world's finest
amateur game. You, therefore, will understand how eagerly and with what
thoughts we awaited the day to dawn on May 17.
The three days prior to our opening Olympic fixture were spent quietly in our
hotel in Amsterdam. Language was the chief obstacle and in spite of our
best efforts, we could hardly be good mixers in social circles. Fashionable
Dutch lasses, hockey enthusiasts all, flocked around us and wanted to fete
us. But, as I have already narrated earlier, I kept myself strictly aloof.
The day of our dreams dawned. On May 17 we confidently marched into the
stadium to make our Olympic debut. We had travelled thousands of miles for
this purpose. People at home had their doubts as to the wisdom of India's
participation in the Olympic Games. We too had our misgivings till then, but
on this day we had no doubts whatsoever. We were determined to show the
world that in this game India was supreme.
The weather was fine and we met Austria in our opening match. The game
was a tame one and we beat our opponents by six clear goals. Never was
there a moment when Austria was on top. I have a dim recollection that I
scored four goals in this match, Shaukat Ali and Gateley taking credit for the
other two. How I wish manager Rosser were alive today? He could have very
well supplemented the statistical side of these memoirs.
The next fixture was on May 18 when we met Belgium in the second round.
We had a number of changes in our team. Jaipal Singh played his first match
in the Olympic Games on this day, and he partnered Rocque. There were a
few replacements and shuffling of players, but the outcome of play on this
day was again in no doubt. We beat Belgium by nine clear goals, and thus
qualified to meet Denmark in the next fixture.
After a day's rest we faced Denmark on May 20. We fielded the same team
that played Belgium for the match against Denmark The Danish defence
gave a sterling display, particularly their stout and hefty goalkeeper who did
give me a tough time, stopping many of my efforts which I thought were
sure winners. We beat Denmark by five goals to nil, thus achieving a hat-
trick of victories.
In three successive fixtures in the Olympics no goal was scored against us.
We kept up this tradition in the following two matches also. After Denmark
we had to meet Switzerland in the semi-finals on May 22. We beat our
opponents by six goals to nil.
With our victory over Switzerland we qualified for the final against Holland
which took place on May 26. We beat Holland by three clear goals to win the
Olympic title. At this distant date, I still vividly remember the tense
circumstances under which India took the field on May 26 to win the highest
laurels in world hockey.
It was a sadly depleted team that opposed Holland in the final. Feroze Khan,
Shaukat Ali and Kher Singh were on the sick list, and Jaipal Singh was not
available. I have already narrated in an earlier chapter how Jaipal Singh's
disappearance in the most crucial game still remains a mystery. Poor Kher
Singh could not participate in a single game in the Olympics. He had injured
his knee earlier. Look at the skeleton side that was fielded in the final: Allen;
Rocque and Hammond; Norris, Pinniger and Yusuf; Gateley, Marthins, Dhyan
Chand, Seaman and Cullen.
I myself was ill, running a high temperature which persisted all through the
game. For me there was no option. I was a soldier by profession and when
the country's honour was at stake, there was no alternative but to march
boldly into the battlefield. That day our manager coined a slogan for us, "Do
or Die." I decided that if required I would die playing.
With such odds against us, led by captain Pinniger on whom Jaipal Singh's
mantle fell, we entered the field amidst thunderous cheers from a large
crowd. With their own national team playing, the Dutch turned out in large
numbers and the stands were full. It was a great game and the fine
traditions of Indian hockey were demonstrated to the world.
Holland put up a very good fight. I was amazed to see them play
considerably better than they did in the prior practice match against us.
They too had adopted, it appeared, "Do or Die" tactics. In a way we were
their masters in this game, and although we scored only three goals, our
superiority was in evidence in all departments.
Our goalkeeper Allen created a record, namely that not a single goal was
scored against him in all the five Olympic matches that we played. I used to
wonder at times what would have happened to us if Allen happened to get
injured. Possibly Shaukat Ali, who played in almost every position, would
have been asked to take his place.
Thus on May 26, 1928, India was acknowledged throughout the world as the
Olympic hockey champions. On May 29 we lined up at the Olympic Stadium
to receive our gold medals, and believe me, that day our happiness knew no
bounds.
The hockey matches were played in May, although the actual Olympic
ceremony and other sporting events took place according to schedule two
months later towards the end of July. As a result, we did not have the good
fortune of enjoying the Olympic atmosphere, the solemn rituals of the
opening ceremony and the subsequent thrills and excitement.
Manager Rosser submitted a report to the IHF at the end of tour which
stated:
"The exhibition of hockey given by the Indian team impressed and fascinated
the countries of Europe. Apart from their wonderful eye, nimbleness,
unselfish play, quick movements and teamwork, their display of scientific
hockey showed what was possible in this great amateur game.
The main features of Indian hockey that impressed the English and
Continental players were: positional play; combination of the fowards with
the half-backs and the latter with the full-backs; the tackle back, quick
movements and first-time passes, deft stickwork both in attack and in
defence; quickness, dash and anticipation; frequent use of the hand to stop
the ball; and the feint to baffle the defence.
Hockey as played in India is the creme de la creme of what first class hockey
really should be."
After our triumph we all felt that we had achieved something for our
country. We were feted, entertained and lionized in Holland in a manner that
I will never forget. In contrast, when we returned to England on our way
back home, again the English took little or no notice of us. A reception was
arranged for us by Indians resident in London which Rosser referred to in his
report as sub judice. So I will refrain from further comment. I am still not
aware how this matter ended. We spent a quiet holiday in London before
embarking for home.
On our way back to India, at Marseilles, we met the Australian contingent of
athletes who were to participate in the Olympic Games in July. We
fraternised with the Australian athletes and there was a ring of sincerity and
comradeship on the part of the Australians which won our hearts, and which
was spontaneously reciprocated.
As we neared the shores of India, we recalled the three-man send-off
accorded to us on March 10 at Mumbai and did not entertain much hope of a
triumphant homecoming. But our apprehensions were soon relieved. Mumbai
made amends for her earlier lapse and gave us a reception befitting Olympic
champions.
There was a sea of heads cheering wildly at Mole station. Dr. G. V.
Deshmukh, the famous surgeon and politician who was then the Mayor of
Mumbai was present to accord us a civic reception. The Governor of Mumbai
sent a representative with a congratulatory message. Among those present
to receive us was Jamnadas Mehta, the colourful personality of Indian
politics, and the late lamented Benjamin Guy Horniman.
 The Victorious 1928 Indian Olympic Hockey Team

It was a brave and happy team that faced a battery of cameras that day. We
had a very pleasant time in Mumbai before we dispersed. Prior to being
demobilised, the Olympic Champions played a friendly game with the
Western India Hockey Association. We beat them by six goals to one, and
thus avenged our defeat to them on March 4 prior to us leaving for the
Amsterdam Olympics.

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