Baljit Singh Dhillon is a hockey player extraordinaire. Recent example: his feats in the prestigious Senior Nehru Cup in 2003. As the semifinal between the Punjab Police and the Indian Oil Corporation meandered towards extra time, the 30-plus veteran scored the golden goal. In the final against the Indian Airlines, goals were hard to come by for either side even after 60 minutes of play. Then, Baljit set up his younger brother Daljit Singh, a World Cupper, for his team’s first goal in a penalty corner drill. And soon after that, leaving the role of a playmaker that he had executed so well so far, he posted a brace of solo goals. Never in the recent past were the Airlines — who had double the caps of international experience, as compared to the Police — so comprehensively beaten in the Nehru Cup, the highest prize money event in India, as on November 17, 2003. And yet, no one sings paeans about Baljit.

Baljit is a man of few words. He lets his stick do the talking. In fact, even on the field he shows few emotions. And surprisingly, among the senior players in the team today, he is rarely talked about in the media. He has been a crucial link in the Indian forward line for years now. He has captained the team and in his decade-long career, played in different positions. But you will rarely hear this doughty sardar complain about anything. He just does his bit, with that clinical finesse which is rare in world hockey today. But that is the way Dhillon has been all these years, ever since he graduated from the Combined Universities team into the junior side and then, very soon into the senior team. In fact, Baljit Dhillon is an enigma for most. He is aggressive, he is reticent and he is a bundle of talent most coaches vouch for.

Yes, Dhillon is aggressive when he is on the field. Off it, he is one of the most polite, well-mannered hockey stars in the country. Don’t go by his body language. Like most Punjab players, he walks with a swagger and gives the impression he has a score to settle with the world. But as we said before, that is the way he is. A rare talent, who has got caught in the changing times.
Baljit, a DSP in Punjab Police, is one of the few players who can get past defenders without much fuss. He has tremendous skills — his jig on the wrong foot and his piercing crosses make him a very dangerous customer. Perhaps, that is the reason why most coaches expect a lot from ‘Balli’, as he is better known.

Dhillon has starred in different roles — a left-in, a left-out, centre forward, centre half, withdrawn forward or even a drag-flick specialist. And he has never complained. In many ways, despite his lazy ways — as some people allege — he is a hard-working player. But as we said, he is an enigma. His rise to fame was not easy. And as he himself admits, “hockey has given me everything in life”. Born in a middle class family to Sardar Gurmukh Singh and Jasbir Kaur, Balli grew up in the bylanes of Jalandhar and took to hockey as that was the way of life. He played in the school team, often admonished by his parents for neglecting his studies. Unlike some of the recent stars, Balli had no precedence of hockey in the family, no role models to begin with. He just wanted to play and get away from the demands of daily life — the dreariness of it all.

One of India’s best forwards in recent times, he was twice rejected by Sports Schools adopted by the State government. But he did not lose heart. He played in National School Games competitions, and after joining Sri Khalsa College, Jalandhar, his career took a turn for the better. He was called for the junior camp in Bangalore in 1991 and that was where things changed. Under coaches P.A. Raphael and Sukhbir Singh Garewal, Balli learnt the dynamics of modern hockey. A raw youngster, who had played all this while on grass, entered the new world of artificial turf.

NOTE: Rest in the Book

Alok Sinha, 35, is Deputy Sports Editor with the Hindustan Times, New Delhi. He has earlier worked for the Pioneer, the Indian Express and thetoday newspaper.com. Contact: aloksinha@hotmail.com