Madras and India's oldest hockey tournament
The Madras Cricket Club, established in 1846, was the venue where many sports that we take for granted today were first played in our city. Hockey was one among them. It made its appearance late in the 19th century, chiefly as a game for cricket players to keep fit during the off season. 'Playing hooky' which meant going away from your official duties was an expression that came due to this. Interestingly, hockey or hooky was initially played in Madras without any knowledge of the rules of the game. The first record of it in the city dates back to 1894.
The Madras Hockey Tournament, played for 'the Silver Cup presented by the Madras Cricket Club', was the forerunner of what became the MCC All-India Hockey Tournament. The first announcement of this trophy appeared in the Madras Mail on July 20, 1901. The very first of its kind in South India, it commenced on July 22. Here again, as in cricket, we find the Madras United Club doing its bit to get Indians to play the game. The MUC's XI, South India's first 'native team' took to the field against the 25th Battery, Royal Field Artillery, from Bangalore. The MUC, judging by the report of the match, appears to have known little of the game, and was trounced 15-0. The next day, the MCC 'A' team appears to have played the eventual winner of the tournament, the Durham Light Infantry, with a detailed report of the match being carried by the Madras Mail. Newspaper reports referred to 'dangerous play' being a feature of the game.
By the 1920s, the game had come into its own especially with R.C. Summerhayes of Burma Shell, and a hockey blue from Oxford, taking special interest. He got the legendary M.J. Gopalan interested in the game. By the 1930s, Anglo Indian teams of Madras were taking the game to new heights. The Madras Hockey Association came into being in 1931. When it came to Indian participation in the Olympics, Madras produced its share of hockey players by way of R. Francis, Munir Sait, V. Baskaran, V.J. Philips, V.J. Peter and Krishnamurthy Perumal. We can also include Charles Cornelius here though he mainly played for Punjab.
The MCC All India Hockey Trophy was one of the big attractions during that golden era for the game. Teams from all over the country came to participate. But even then, there were breaks despite best efforts. The Murugappa Group, with its Murgappa Gold Cup instituted in 1962 to commemorate the 60th birthday of A.M.M. Murugappa Chettiar, joined the MCC in 1996 and since then the game has seen a fresh lease of life.
The semi-finals and finals of the ongoing tournament will take place on July 19 and 20 respectively. Initially played at Chepauk in the MCC's B Ground, it has moved to the Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium in recent times. For the first time this year, an overseas team, from Malaysia, is participating. And there is a third umpire to refer to. Finally, ten trees will be planted for every goal.
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The Hindu
16-07-2025
- The Hindu
Madras and India's oldest hockey tournament
Would you believe that India's oldest hockey tournament is being played right now at the Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium in Chennai? And that it is in its 96th edition? Strictly speaking, it ought to be the 126th as it was first played in 1901 but two World Wars and much else in between, caused some breaks in the tradition. It was reborn as the MCC All India Hockey Tournament and it is today known as the MCC Murugappa All India Hockey Gold Cup Tournament. The Madras Cricket Club, established in 1846, was the venue where many sports that we take for granted today were first played in our city. Hockey was one among them. It made its appearance late in the 19th century, chiefly as a game for cricket players to keep fit during the off season. 'Playing hooky' which meant going away from your official duties was an expression that came due to this. Interestingly, hockey or hooky was initially played in Madras without any knowledge of the rules of the game. The first record of it in the city dates back to 1894. The Madras Hockey Tournament, played for 'the Silver Cup presented by the Madras Cricket Club', was the forerunner of what became the MCC All-India Hockey Tournament. The first announcement of this trophy appeared in the Madras Mail on July 20, 1901. The very first of its kind in South India, it commenced on July 22. Here again, as in cricket, we find the Madras United Club doing its bit to get Indians to play the game. The MUC's XI, South India's first 'native team' took to the field against the 25th Battery, Royal Field Artillery, from Bangalore. The MUC, judging by the report of the match, appears to have known little of the game, and was trounced 15-0. The next day, the MCC 'A' team appears to have played the eventual winner of the tournament, the Durham Light Infantry, with a detailed report of the match being carried by the Madras Mail. Newspaper reports referred to 'dangerous play' being a feature of the game. By the 1920s, the game had come into its own especially with R.C. Summerhayes of Burma Shell, and a hockey blue from Oxford, taking special interest. He got the legendary M.J. Gopalan interested in the game. By the 1930s, Anglo Indian teams of Madras were taking the game to new heights. The Madras Hockey Association came into being in 1931. When it came to Indian participation in the Olympics, Madras produced its share of hockey players by way of R. Francis, Munir Sait, V. Baskaran, V.J. Philips, V.J. Peter and Krishnamurthy Perumal. We can also include Charles Cornelius here though he mainly played for Punjab. The MCC All India Hockey Trophy was one of the big attractions during that golden era for the game. Teams from all over the country came to participate. But even then, there were breaks despite best efforts. The Murugappa Group, with its Murgappa Gold Cup instituted in 1962 to commemorate the 60th birthday of A.M.M. Murugappa Chettiar, joined the MCC in 1996 and since then the game has seen a fresh lease of life. The semi-finals and finals of the ongoing tournament will take place on July 19 and 20 respectively. Initially played at Chepauk in the MCC's B Ground, it has moved to the Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium in recent times. For the first time this year, an overseas team, from Malaysia, is participating. And there is a third umpire to refer to. Finally, ten trees will be planted for every goal.
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First Post
15-07-2025
- First Post
The life and legacy of 'Turbaned Tornado' Fauja Singh, the world's oldest marathoner
Fauja Singh, the world's oldest marathon runner, died at the age of 114 after being hit by a car in Punjab's Jalandhar. The man, who began his marathon journey at 89, had shattered records and inspired many with his resilience. Here's a closer look at his story read more Widely believed to be the world's oldest marathon runner, Fauja Singh was a British-Indian icon who shattered records across age categories, most notably, continuing to run marathons well past the age of 100. Fauja Singh, fondly called the 'Turbaned Tornado', died at the age of 114 on July 14 after being struck by a car near his home in Beas Pind, Jalandhar. Widely believed to be the world's oldest marathon runner, Singh was an icon who shattered records across age categories, most notably, continuing to run marathons well past the age of 100. The frail man, who weathered many a personal storms with grit and perseverance, had spent a better part of his running career in the UK and returned to his roots just about three years ago after retiring. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD 'We would always tell him that someone his age running in India would always run the risk of being hit, given how reckless the driving here is. This is what ultimately happened, unfortunately,' said his biographer Khushwant Singh, who chronicled the legendary athlete's journey in The Turbaned Tornado. As the world mourns the tragic end of an extraordinary life, here's a look back at the man, his journey, and the legacy he left behind. 'In my youth, I didn't know 'marathons' existed' Fauja Singh was born on April 1, 1911, in Beas Pind, a small village in pre-Partition British India. The youngest of four siblings, Singh had a frail frame as a child. Locals in his village even nicknamed him 'Stick' because his legs were too weak to support him, and he couldn't walk properly until he was five. Instead of going to school, he spent most of his early years helping out on the family farm, feeding cattle and growing crops like corn and wheat. 'I was very weak as a child. I had faced trouble walking till the age of five years but then as I spent time at the farm and with the support of my family and Waheguru, I started walking,' he told The Indian Express in an interview. Fauja Singh. Image courtesy: X Before turning 40, Singh had already lived through both World Wars and the horrors of the Partition. Despite everything, he had never thought of running in his youth. 'In my youth, I didn't even know the word 'marathon' existed,' he once told the BBC. 'I never went to school, nor was I involved in any kind of sports. I was a farmer and spent most of my life in the fields.' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Singh later married and had six children. Life took a turn in 1993 when he moved to England after the death of his wife, Gian Kaur. He settled in Ilford, London, to live with his eldest son, Sukhjinder. However, another tragedy soon followed. While visiting India, Singh witnessed the accidental death of his younger son, Kuldeep. The loss left him shattered. He returned to London and began to find solace in long walks and eventually running, often frequenting parks near his home. On one of his visits to the local gurdwara, he met a group of elderly men who ran together. It was here that he met Harmander Singh, who would become his coach and one of his closest companions. 'Had I not met Harmander Singh, I wouldn't have got into marathon running,' Singh had told The Indian Express. Becoming the 'Turbaned tornado' Fauja Singh ran his first marathon—the London Marathon—in 2000, at the age of 89. He completed it in six hours and 54 minutes, kicking off a remarkable journey that would make him a global icon. 'Running gave him a new focus in life, made it worth living,' his coach Harmander Singh told The New York Times in 2010. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD With each race, Singh grew stronger and faster. By his third London Marathon, he had shaved nine minutes off his previous time. In 2003, he amazed the world again at the Toronto Waterfront Marathon by clocking in at five hours and 40 minutes, improving his personal best by over an hour. He credited his health and longevity to a simple lifestyle and disciplined vegetarian diet. 'Eating less, running more, and staying happy - that is the secret behind my longevity. This is my message to everyone,' he had told BBC. 'Running gave him a new focus in life, made it worth living,' Fauja Singh's coach Harmander Singh said in 2010. PTI His dedication caught international attention. Adidas featured him in their Nothing Is Impossible campaign alongside Muhammad Ali in 2003. The Pakistani Prime Minister Pervez Musharraf invited him to the inaugural Lahore Marathon in 2005, and Queen Elizabeth II welcomed him to Buckingham Palace in 2006. Then came 2011—the year he turned 100. At a Toronto invitational meet named in his honour, Singh broke several world records in his age category. However, Guinness World Records did not recognise any of them, as he did not have a birth certificate from 1911 to prove his age. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Singh shows off his medal from the Edinburgh Marathon in 2005. 'He was not bothered by any of that. He just enjoyed the attention that he got. I once asked him 'Baba, maran ton darr lagda? (Baba, are you afraid of death?). He said 'haan, bilkul lagda. Haje te mele shuru hoye ne (Yes, of course. The fun has only started for me),' recalled his biographer Khuswant Singh. 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File image/ AP. Following his death, tributes poured in from all corners of the world. PM Narendra Modi called him 'an exceptional athlete with incredible determination' and praised how he inspired India's youth to embrace fitness. Fauja Singh Ji was extraordinary because of his unique persona and the manner in which he inspired the youth of India on a very important topic of fitness. He was an exceptional athlete with incredible determination. Pained by his passing away. My thoughts are with his family and… — Narendra Modi (@narendramodi) July 15, 2025 Back in Ilford, Harmander Singh has launched a campaign to raise funds for a memorial clubhouse in Singh's name, reports The Indian Express. 'We're collecting £114 from close to 9,000 people around the world,' he said, 'to build something that keeps the Fauja Singh legacy alive.' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Even at 114, Singh was actively participating in causes he believed in. He joined the 'Nasha Mukt – Rangla Punjab' march to promote a drug-free Punjab. As the world bids farewell to Singh, his remarkable legacy will live in every marathon run, every story of resilience, and in the millions of lives he inspired. With input from agencies
Hindustan Times
18-06-2025
- Hindustan Times
The Temba way: Neither accident nor fluke
The Test Championship Mace did not exist in cricket's early years before the two World Wars, the golden age in the 1970s and 1980s, and the era of the sport's physical and mental transformation in the 1990s and 2000s. But one can imagine Don Bradman lifting the crown as captain of The Invincibles, or Clive Lloyd and Vivian Richards being hailed as champion leaders with West Indies in the 1970s and 1980s, or Mark Taylor, Steve Waugh and Ricky Ponting in the 1990s and 2000s, and perhaps even Imran Khan and Sourav Ganguly briefly in the middle of the Australian and Caribbean domination. Last week, when South Africa were crowned champions — in a final they weren't expected to be in, against a team they weren't supposed to beat — the jewelled mace was handed to a relatively nondescript cricketer from Cape Town. Forget the larger-than-life Bradmans and the Lloyds we were just talking about, the names etched on cricket's belated but most coveted crown are batting icon Kane Williamson of New Zealand, bowling royalty Pat Cummins of Australia, and batter Temba Bavuma. From a distance, it may have seemed like a sporting accident or a strange fluke. But, trust me, that's never true. Life and times The modest Bavuma household in Langa, a cricket-crazy suburb of Cape Town about 20 minutes from Newlands, was blessed with a boy at a time when South Africa was in the throes of change. It was 1990, and the shadow of Apartheid was starting to recede at last. Nelson Mandela was released after 27 years in prison just three months earlier. The national cricket team would be reintroduced to the world in a one-day series in India the following year. There were new opportunities and new possibilities on the horizon. In keeping with the times, the boy was named Temba, or hope, in Zulu. The rise of Temba Bavuma over the next three decades was nothing short of a cricketing fairytale. He was the first Black batsman to get into the national team in 2014, and the first full-time Black African captain in 2022. But his journey was often undermined by critics; prefixed with that dreaded Q-word in South African cricket. Did he deserve a place in the team, as the early Test century against England suggested, or was he a 'quota pick' in a new political climate? Did he deserve to be skipper, or was a 'quota captain' at a time when the government wanted to prove that Black men can not only jump and bowl, but also bat and lead? Those questions need not be asked again. Though Bavuma may have a career Test average below 40, he not only top-scored for South Africa in the latest World Test Championship cycle with 711 runs in eight Tests, he had the highest average at 59.25. And though his leadership may have sometimes appeared passive or overly defensive, he is the most successful captain in history after 10 Tests – 9 wins, 1 tie, no draws or losses. So, what is it that makes Bavuma tick? The answer perhaps comes from the Rainbow Nation that Mandela envisioned, and Bavuma's arrival in it at a time when the dream was being brought to fruition. More on that in a bit. Oh captain, my captain Mike Brearley played 39 Tests for England. In 31 of them, he was captain. He won 18 Tests and lost only four. Over his Test career, he averaged 22.88 with the bat and never bowled. He was considered such a leader of men that he was kept in the team just for that. He went on to write The Art of Captaincy (1985) and later became a psychoanalyst. Brearley may not have made it in modern cricket, which carries no passengers, even if they are the captain. But his treatise on leadership is riveting because there is no data, other than wins and losses, to truly measure captaincy. Cricket may have incorporated the concept of coaches over the last few decades, but for all intents and purposes, the duties of a manager in other team sports lie with the captain in the gentleman's game. The reason is simple: the workload on players in other team sports is too much for them to dictate wider strategy. Lionel Messi as a Barcelona forward had so much to do on his own that he couldn't be expected to run over to Carles Puyol in central defence to give directions or offer advice. It required someone on the sidelines, with a sense of the entire flow of the match, to call the shots. In cricket, where you watch from the dressing room while your colleagues are at the crease, where you breathe between deliveries, and where you deliberate between overs, the coach is just a sounding board – the captain, with a feel of the pitch and a sense of the dressing room, is the best placed to call the shots. In many ways, the job is harder than that of a football manager who needs to worry about strategy but not about scoring or defending. The Bavuma blend Different captains over the decades have managed leadership differently. In India, for instance, Ganguly was a kind of skipper who got down and dirty with the team. He knew what he wanted, and he created an atmosphere where his players knew they could count on him to protect them. If the team was in a ditch, Ganguly would jump in and say, let's dig ourselves out together. Rahul Dravid, who replaced him, was the kind who led by the example of his own excellence. He wouldn't jump into the ditch but throw in a rope and try to pull the team out. Mahendra Singh Dhoni was more individualistic and certain of himself. In the ditch analogy, Dhoni would jump in, ask the others to step aside, and dig them out himself. Each style is effective, and successful cricket captains usually fall into one of those categories or are a loose combination of these philosophies. But the Bavuma blend is different. It stems from how he draws on different strands from his life – his birth into a rejuvenated nation that wanted to unify rather than seek revenge, his rise as a batsman at a time when his peers thought he was being favoured, his burning desire (like that of any South African cricketer) to get the team to finally win big tournaments, and the constant awareness that he is a pioneer for his entire race – to inform and shape his captaincy. His leadership style was reflected in how he slowed down his own scoring on the first evening of the WTC final and then let loose on the second morning; how he moved his bowlers around in the first session of the second innings; and how his team held their catches. It was self-assured and unaffected by criticism, but he made it feel like captaincy by committee. 'There'll always be the essence of putting the team first, but I try to make sure my game is in order then try to empower the guys around me,' Bavuma, a short man in a team of giants, told reporters on the eve of the final. 'It becomes a collective leadership style.' It was nice of him to say that. The Temba way.
