There are few joys in public life as deeply personal as watching a young talent you have known since boyhood rise to fulfil the promise you sensed in him long before the world took notice. For me, Sanju Samson is such a special joy. Long before he became a national star, long before stadiums chanted his name and television cameras lingered on his serene, unflappable presence at the crease, he was a shy, gifted 14‑year‑old club cricketer in Thiruvananthapuram whose talent was unmistakable and whose quiet determination left an impression on me that has only deepened with time.

I still remember that first meeting vividly: a slender, somewhat short teenager with a disarming smile, a bat that seemed almost an extension of his arm, and a sense of balance and timing that marked him out as special. Even then, there was something about Sanju—an inward steadiness, a refusal to be rattled, a maturity beyond his years. It was clear he had the gifts to go far; what he needed was the ecosystem of encouragement and fairness that every young athlete deserves but not all receive.

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I rather patronisingly told him that he would grow to become the next Dhoni (this was 2009, and there could be no greater compliment to a young lad), and he beamed. Years later, when I recalled that comment, I was rightly rebuked by my friend Gautam Gambhir, who said Sanju need not become the next anybody –- he would be the one and only Sanju Samson.

Over the years, I have had the privilege of watching Sanju grow—not just as a cricketer, but as a human being shaped by discipline, humility, and resilience. His journey has not been linear. It has been punctuated by triumphs and setbacks, by moments of dazzling brilliance and periods of both justified and inexplicable exclusion. Through it all, Sanju has carried himself with a grace that has only strengthened my admiration for him.

His father, the pugnacious Samson Viswanath, is a man of fierce pride and protectiveness. I recall several anguished conversations with him—conversations filled with frustration at selection injustices, at the caprice that sometimes governs sporting careers, at the heartbreak of watching a deserving young man repeatedly overlooked. Sanju himself remained silent, determined to keep trying. Those were difficult moments, and I shared the Samsons’ pain. I spoke both privately and publicly for him when I felt compelled to, not out of parochial loyalty but out of a conviction that talent must be nurtured, not squandered. When selection decisions seemed arbitrary, I said so. When Sanju’s performances merited recognition, I said so. And when he faltered, I never doubted that he would rise again.

One episode off the cricket field remains particularly close to my heart. As a high‑school student, Sanju found himself unable to meet the required classroom attendance to sit for his school‑leaving examinations. Cricket had taken him across the country; his performances were already drawing attention; but rules are rules, and he risked losing a crucial academic milestone. I intervened—not to bend the system for a favourite, but to ensure that the system recognised excellence in all its forms. His achievements on the field were no less legitimate than those in a classroom. The exception was granted, and Sanju cleared his exams. It was a small victory, but one that mattered, because it affirmed that institutions must support young people who excel, not penalise their commitment and effort.

As the years passed, Sanju’s career blossomed. His IPL exploits became the stuff of legend. His strokeplay—effortless, elegant, fearless, sheer poetry to the delighted aesthete—won him admirers across the cricketing world. Yet what impressed me most was not the silken cover-drives or the sixes he lofted into the night sky, but the composure with which he handled the vagaries of selection, the scrutiny of fans, and the pressures of leadership. He never complained, never lashed out, never allowed bitterness to cloud his spirit. He simply worked harder, waited longer, and believed more deeply.

Last New Year’s Eve, he joined my constituency team and me in Thiruvananthapuram for a small but high-spirited celebration. It was a warm, unpretentious evening—Sanju as he has always been: grounded, affectionate, and deeply connected to the city that shaped him. I told him then that I expected great things from him in 2026. He smiled, as he often does, with that quiet confidence that needs no proclamation. Today, he has exceeded even those heady New Year’s Eve expectations.

Watching him in recent months has been a delight. His batting has acquired a new authority; his leadership (manifested in his quiet advice to batting partners and bowlers alike) has matured into a blend of tactical intelligence and emotional steadiness; and his presence on the field radiates the assurance of a man who has finally been given the space to express the full range of his abilities. The country has begun to see what those of us in Kerala have long known: that Sanju Samson is not merely a talented cricketer, but a rare sporting mind—calm under pressure, instinctive yet thoughtful, capable of brilliance without bravado.

But beyond the statistics and the accolades, what moves me most is the person he has remained. Fame has not altered his humility. Success has not dimmed his gratitude. He continues to honour his roots in the coastal fishing village of Vizhinjam in Thiruvananthapuram, to cherish his family, to inspire young cricketers in Kerala who see in him a reflection of their own dreams. He carries the memory of his seagoing grandfather with dignity, and the hopes of a state with quiet pride.

In an age when public figures are often manufactured, Sanju is refreshingly authentic. He does not chase headlines; he earns them. He does not cultivate an image; he embodies one. And he does not measure himself by the noise around him, but by the standards he sets for himself.

For me, his recent successes are not just sporting achievements; they are chapters in a story I have watched unfold for seventeen years—a story of perseverance, character, and the triumph of talent over adversity. They are also a reminder that behind every athlete we celebrate lies a journey shaped by family, mentors, supporters, and communities that believe in them.

Sanju’s journey is far from over. If anything, he stands at the threshold of his finest years. And he deserves to display his talents on the ODI and Test arenas too, rather than be stereotyped as a T-20 specialist. But whatever the future holds, I remain proud—not only of the cricketer he has become, but of the human being he has always been. The Sanju Samson I know is a young man of integrity, resilience, and grace. The Sanju Samson I admire is one who has earned every cheer, every headline, every moment of glory.

And the Sanju Samson I celebrate today is the same boy I met at 14—talented, humble, determined—only now, the world finally sees him as I did then.

© Mathrubhumi English