Remembering Mr T
S. Thyagarajan or ‘Mr. T’ was a man of precision. He was thin and smartly dressed: shirts buttoned at the wrists and neatly tucked into pressed trousers, finished with polished shoes. He was as immaculately dressed as his writing.
Can I call him a mentor? Yes. He helped me navigate the intricacies of hockey writing and the inner workings of the federation. While I saw him often on overseas tours, we spent our most meaningful time in Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh, sharing evenings over drinks with Malaysian friends like the former Star writer, S. Ramaguru - who must be immensely saddened today.
I always looked forward to Mr. T’s stories in The Hindu because he never missed a detail. If six matches were played in a day at a major championship, he watched all six: minute by minute, half after half. While the rest of us would be halfway through our copy, he would already be finished. He was always the first to leave; his ‘bye’ was nothing more than a simple, dignified nod of the head.
Without a doubt, he made hockey writing impressionable. From local leagues and state championships to the Asian Games, World Cups, and Olympics, he was there. He was a fixture of the game, and his absence leaves a void, a large one.