The P.R. Sreejesh interview: Miracle man of Kizhakkambalam

If you asked a random Malayali kid to sketch a Kerala town, it would likely resemble Kizhakkambalam. With its narrow but well-laid-out roads winding through vast, sun-soaked paddy fields and algae-covered ponds, Kizhakkambalam perfectly fits the image. But this town, located on the outskirts of Kochi, has something unique about it.

It’s probably the only place in Kerala where flex boards of Lionel Messi — and by extension, the Argentinian football team — are outnumbered by those of another sporting icon: P.R. Sreejesh, the state’s only double Olympic medallist. Amidst the sea of greenery, Sreejesh’s red-tinted home stands out, much like he distinguished himself in the Indian hockey team for nearly two decades in his goalkeeper’s colours.

When Sportstar visited Sreejesh’s home, his goalkeeping kit was laid out in the front yard under the blazing afternoon sun, almost as if to reinforce his identity.

“I had a photoshoot yesterday where I had to wear the kit, and I wanted to dry it out before packing it up,” Sreejesh explained, swiftly quashing any speculation of a potential return to international hockey, just over a month after his retirement.

The drying goalkeeping kit provided the perfect segue into a nearly two-hour conversation. “I distinctly remember the first time I wore a hockey kit. It was during the 2000 Ayudha Pooja. That’s when everyone sets aside their equipment for the pooja, and that was the day I first tried it on,” recalled Sreejesh, leaning back on his verandah’s sit-out, easing into the conversation.

“When I was in the eighth grade, my father bought me my first personal goalkeeping kit. It wasn’t international standard, just enough for state-level play,” he added.

A hockey ball weighs just over 150 grammes, but anyone who’s been hit by one would swear it feels much heavier. Now imagine that ball coming at you at nearly 100 kmph from different angles and heights! Scary. Overcoming the fear of pain is therefore crucial for a hockey goalkeeper to gain a foothold in the sport. And that process is closely tied to the trust placed in the armour — the goalkeeping kit.

“It wasn’t until 2004, when I joined the junior Indian team, that I wore a proper kit. A better kit not only reduces impact and pain but also improves rebounds. A lot of our confidence comes from the quality of our equipment. It’s like the difference between wearing Rs. 100 canvas shoes and Rs. 10,000 Nike shoes. Both are shoes, but the perception and conviction change,” explained Sreejesh.

A goalkeeper, across various ball sports, is an antithesis to the discipline itself. His role is to negate the very essence of the game — scoring a goal. But in modern Indian hockey, Sreejesh flipped this narrative. His stellar performances in goal became the foundation upon which Indian hockey experienced its revival.

The heartbreak of not qualifying for the 2008 Olympics was replaced by the triumph of consecutive Olympic bronze medals, breaking a 41-year drought.

The second bronze, from Paris 2024, though, came with a bittersweet aftertaste. A narrow defeat to Germany in the semifinal dashed India’s hopes of reclaiming gold.

“When we went to Paris, we were confident we could make the final. Our preparation and team unity were on point. So, when that faith was lost, disappointment was inevitable. But the Olympics is not a stage to dwell on defeat. We needed to focus on the next opportunity, and that was the bronze medal match,” Sreejesh said, his words tinged with regret.

Just as he hoped, the team regrouped, defeating Spain 2-1 in the bronze medal match, ensuring a glorious farewell for Sreejesh in his final international appearance. Sreejesh admits his decision to retire was made long before the Paris Games, though he initially planned to announce it afterwards. However, the weight of that secret affected his focus during the Olympic preparation camp, prompting him to share it sooner.

“I always wanted to retire on a big stage, and there’s nothing bigger than the Olympics. Everyone told me to announce it afterwards, but as the tournament neared, it became a distraction. So, I told my coach about it.

“Before the Olympics, we had trips to Switzerland and the Netherlands. I usually speak first in team meetings, but in Holland, I decided to speak last. That’s when I told the team, ‘This will be my last tournament. All of you will have more chances, but this is my final one.’ A week before the Olympics, I made it public, and then it was done,” Sreejesh recounted.

A highlight of India’s Paris 2024 hockey campaign was the quarterfinal win against Great Britain, where the team defended with just 10 men for nearly three-quarters of the game after key defender Amit Rohidas was shown a red card. India dragged the game to a penalty shootout, and once again, Sreejesh rose to the occasion. He saved one British penalty and forced another wide, securing his team’s victory.

For all its inherent unfairness, a penalty shootout is often a goalkeeper’s best chance to shine.

With the odds stacked against them, a save in a tiebreaker can propel a goalkeeper into folklore. Sreejesh has had his fair share of such moments, starting with his crucial saves against Pakistan in the 2011 Asian Champions Trophy.

His success in shootouts is even more impressive given that his career spanned the 2011 rule change, which replaced penalty strokes with the current one-on-one format. Sreejesh believes the new system has levelled the playing field for goalkeepers.

“From a keeper’s perspective, a penalty stroke is 90% a goal and 10% a save. The ball is just seven yards away, and the flick is usually accurate and powerful.

“But the current shootout format makes it almost 50-50 and fairer to us. The goalkeepers have an equal chance to make a save. The striker has multiple shots, but only eight seconds, and that’s their biggest disadvantage,” Sreejesh explained, briefly drowned out by the hum of crickets.

The post-Sreejesh era for Indian hockey began auspiciously, with Krishan Pathak stepping into the goalkeeper role during the team’s recent Asian Champions Trophy win.  This smooth transition was partly thanks to Sreejesh, who had shared minutes with Pathak, including during India’s 2023 Asian Champions Trophy win. As Pathak recounted in an interview with this publication, Sreejesh also mentored him over the years, especially during the 2016 Junior World Cup.

However, Sreejesh downplayed his role, highlighting his own motivations in guiding the next generation of goalkeepers.

“I have a mentality — what I taught him [Pathak] felt like I was learning it twice. Sharing what we know allows us to learn it better too. More than being a service to others, it’s something I did for myself. I learn more, and it benefits me. It’s a selfish mentality, to be honest. Anything I did so far was 1) for the love of the game, 2) the love of the position, and 3) my own improvement,” Sreejesh admitted.

Cramped legs and exhausted photo angles led to a location change, prompting Sreejesh to invite us inside, guiding us through his vast collection of accolades with the skill of a seasoned museum guide. Anyone expecting a special, reverential spot for Sreejesh’s Olympic medals would be surprised by their location.

A rummage through cluttered showcases might uncover a Khel Ratna, an Arjuna Award, or even a Padma Award — but not the Olympic medals. They’re hidden in plain sight, right in the middle of the living room, casually placed on top of the coffee table. The only thing keeping them from being mistaken for coasters is the multi-coloured ribbons attached to them.

“My medals are always on the teapoy. A lot of people come here who want to see and touch them. We don’t have the right to shove them away in a showcase and say they can’t be touched. So, they’re right here. When a child comes and holds these medals, they should feel inspired to earn one of their own.

“When we go to temples, praying to an idol feels like a big deal — a marvel, a miracle. But these medals aren’t like that. They’re real. People touching them should realise that this is something they can work toward and achieve.”

“Out of 100 people who touch the medals, if even one feels a strong desire, that’s all we need. We won’t be able to change an entire generation, but if we can inspire one person out of 100, that’s job done,” Sreejesh remarked with quiet pride. He also broke from tradition when he quickly labelled the Tokyo bronze as his favourite.

“The first medal, for sure, is my favourite. The taste of food for a hungry person is vastly different from that of someone who’s already eaten. That first medal was like rain on drought-hit land. The celebrations, reliving each moment — it was all for that medal.

This time, we went expecting to win. Last time, we didn’t have that expectation; we just hoped for the best,” Sreejesh explained.

Meanwhile, his wife Aneeshya, an Ayurveda doctor, joined us with cups of sweet tea and a side of jokes, adding a casual, light-hearted tone to the interview.

The two met at GV Raja Sports School, where she was an aspiring long jumper and Sreejesh was just learning the basics of hockey.

“I was worried about him getting hurt in the beginning, but then I realised he had it under control. He was always so calm heading to the field,” Aneeshya recalled, as their children — 10-year-old Anusree and seven-year-old Sreeansh — darted shyly through the living room, avoiding the cameras. From high-school sweethearts to marriage, their relationship progressed as smoothly as Sreejesh’s rise through the ranks of Indian hockey, with both families happily agreeing to their union.

“There were no issues. Where else could they find a guy like me?” joked Sreejesh, teasing his wife. The couple has found their own rhythm when it comes to raising their children, especially given Sreejesh’s demanding career, which often takes him away for long stretches.

“Parenting is about raising your kids right. My wife and parents were there physically while I worked to secure their future. I feel that’s better than being with them all the time but not being able to provide for them financially.

“I’m always a star in their eyes, and that’s what matters. Of course, they may have missed me when I was away, but I think they enjoy my success and stardom more,” Sreejesh added. For all his daredevilry on the hockey field, Sreejesh prefers to play it safe off it.

A prized possession of his younger days, a yellow Pulsar 180, rarely ventures out of the garage, held back by Sreejesh’s fear of potential injury. Like many of his Malayali peers, he subscribes to the middle-class holy trinity of investments: fixed deposits, land, and gold. His wife, Aneeshya, proudly notes that “money management” is his best trait, and Sreejesh reveals that he has saved nearly 80% of his hockey earnings. This financial caution stems from the challenges Sreejesh and his family faced early in his career.

“My father was a farmer. We never went hungry; there was always food at home. But there wasn’t any extra money. The first time I needed to buy an advanced goalkeeping kit was when we felt the financial pinch.

“I think I reached this level because of those early struggles. If everything is readily available, you don’t appreciate its value. I am who I am today because of what I’ve been through,” he explains.

The need for financial security was always a looming concern in his early career, but the pressure eased when Sreejesh was employed by the Indian Overseas Bank in 2006.

“That job was a huge relief. It allowed me to focus on hockey because some of my worries were taken care of. I had a steady income, and if I got injured, I had a fallback. That gave me a lot of confidence.

“Sportspeople are like show horses. If you get injured, you’re cast aside. No one really tracks what happens to you afterwards. I always tell younger athletes to get a job alongside their sports careers, for that sense of security,” adds Sreejesh. Post-Olympic fame has also brought an explosion of brand endorsements and nationwide attention to the 36-year-old. But Sreejesh isn’t easily dazzled by fame.

“This fame didn’t appear overnight. It’s not like I won a lottery. I’ve been playing hockey for 24 years and have been part of the Indian team for nearly 20.

Over that time, I’ve developed the ability to handle the attention I’m getting now.”

The one thing that hasn’t come his way is a film role. Aneeshya interjects with a laugh, “He can act in a movie if he wants, as long as there are no heroines in it.”

“There were talks about a biopic at some point, but it didn’t materialise,” Sreejesh says. When asked who he’d want to portray him, he casually adds, “I don’t have a special preference, but Tovino Thomas has the stardom and the physique.” Retirement hasn’t slowed him down much. He’s been flying around the country and abroad, attending felicitations, promo shoots, and sponsorship events.

“I can’t tell the difference [post-retirement] because he’s still not home most of the time,” Aneeshya jokes.

His coaching stint with the junior national team is all set to begin with the Sultan Johor Cup, starting on October 19 in Malaysia.

Sreejesh has also opted out of the upcoming Hockey Ibdia League player auctions, instead taking up the role of Director and mentor of the Delhi SG Pipers in the tournament. But amid all the shifts in his career, one thing remains certain: his connection to home.

“I don’t think we can move from Kizhakkambalam. Even if I’m willing, I don’t think my parents could. I can live anywhere, but there’s a sense of belonging here. The people are cooperative in a way you don’t find in cities or flats. I’m away from all the disturbances when I’m here. It’s a different feeling,” says Sreejesh. As the interview wrapped up, Sreejesh picked up his heavier-than-they-look Olympic medals and posed for photos in his front yard. It’s a choreography he has mastered over time.

The medals, once again, will return to their place on the coffee table, waiting for that one-in-a-hundred visitor Sreejesh hopes will be inspired to carry his legacy forward.