It was a hot August day in 2014; I landed in Denver, Colorado, from Houston, Texas. While the plane was taxiing, I checked the world news, and my eye caught the news of the passing of the great Hashim Khan, the father of Pakistani squash. Turned out he had just passed away in Denver. Not believing in coincidences, I embarked on an effort to find out more.

But first, let’s step back in time and appreciate the legend that is Hashim Khan. There will never be a sportsman to match what he accomplished – he won the British Open Squash championship seven times (from 1951 to 1956 and again in 1958) – the first at age 37 and the last at age 44. One can only imagine what that record would look like, if he had been allowed to compete in his 20s and early 30s – when any athlete is in their prime fitness; especially in a sport known for its punishing requirements for speed, power, precision, stamina and mental agility.

Hashim Khan was born in Nawakille, a village near Peshawar. His father was the chief steward at the British Officer’s Club in Peshawar. He started bringing the young prodigy to the squash courts when he was only eight years old. Unfortunately, Hashim’s father died when he was eleven. He left school to work as a ball boy at the courts; sweeping the floors for four annas a day. Once the officers were done, the ball boys would practice. In 1942, Hashim became a squash coach for the officers. In 1944, he won the first all-India squash championship in Bombay; defending it till Partition. In 1949, he won the first Pakistan squash championship. In 1950, Abdul Bari (whom Hashim had defeated in the all-India championships) was sponsored by India to participate in the British Open world championship, and came second. Hashim requested support from the Pakistan Air Force and the government, who sponsored him for the 1951 championship.

Hashim won the 1951 British Open Championship by defeating the reigning champion 9-5, 9-0, 9-0, at age 37. He didn’t look back and opened the doors for Pakistan to create a dominance and legacy that would last decades (Khan Dynasty collected more than 20 British Open titles). He defeated his younger brother, Azam Khan, in five-set thrillers in 1954 and 1955, and his cousin Roshan Khan (father of the illustrious Jahangir Khan) in 1956. Lost to Roshan in 1957 and won the final against Azam in 1958. In addition, he won five British Professional Championships, three US Opens and three Canadian Opens.

So, here I was at the Denver airport, ready to attend an energy conference, but my mind wanted to find out what brought Hashim to Denver. Thanks to the wonders of the internet and friends at Google, I found out that Hashim had moved to the US in the 1960s from Pakistan to teach squash and then in the 1970s to Denver to teach at the Denver Athletic Club. Further searching showed that there was a Hashim Khan Trophy Room at the Denver Athletic Club, only a couple of blocks from the venue of my conference. This, I thought, I must see.

I arrived at the Denver Athletic Club, inquired about the Trophy Room, and after two failed attempts finally found a lady who knew about the room but said it was locked. I told her I was from Pakistan, had just heard about my lifelong hero Hashim Khan passing away, and that if there was any way to access it, I would be forever grateful. She was delighted – said that in her last 10 years working there, I was only the second Pakistani she had come across who came looking for the Trophy Room. She found a janitor who had the keys and let me in.

What I saw next, I wish and hope, every Pakistani should be able to see one day. The seven British Open Championship medals graced a simple frame, sticking out of a Pakistani green background. The room was filled with trophies – earned with hard work and perseverance. The walls showed the player, his family, his friends, and signed pictures with champions and heads of state. Of course, his squash rackets and balls were there as well. And then there was the Pakistani flag, accompanied on by the American and British flags – almost like a podium where Hashim and his accomplishments had landed this fledgling nation in the 1950s.

As someone who was born and grew up in Pakistan, it was incredible to see this aspect of our history and accomplishments, tucked away in this little corner of the United States. Waiting to be discovered by those willing to make the trek; and be rewarded by this sweet sense of what Pakistanis have accomplished, and what they can accomplish, if they follow in the footsteps of “Cancha” Khan. Inspired not just by the rawness of those footsteps being bare (most of his early career were played shoeless), but the sheer will, determination and competitiveness of a man, for whom age, class and society were only barriers to be overcome.

The writer is a finance   professional based in Houston.