When you meet Dr Deierl Krisztián, it takes only a few minutes to realise you are in the company of someone built on discipline, loyalty and perseverance. A trauma surgeon by profession, a judo referee by passion, and a man who’s restarted his life more than once, always with the same mindset: tie the belt, bow, and begin.
We spoke in a quiet moment, during the Millennium Team Cadet European Judo Championships in Skopje, between his hospital rounds and international travels. As we sat down, he smiled, as if flipping through old pages of a book only he knew by heart.
Let’s start at the beginning, when did judo find you? “I was six or seven. My dad took me to Molnár Street, in Budapest’s 5th district. That’s where our coach, ‘Sanyi bácsi’ [Uncle Sanyi], as we called him, ran a beginners’ class. From the first moment, I was hooked.”
Did you try other sports before that? “Swimming. Some school gymnastics but judo was different. It wasn’t just exercise. It was… something that held me there, the community, so I stayed.”
Presumably, that time it was all recreational. “Correct, at that age you don’t think about elite level or as such. We trained twice a week. Monday and Wednesday. We didn’t have a permanent dojo, so we would lay down the mats before every session and pack them up after but I loved that part too. We were building something, together.”
Later, they moved to the Úttörő [Pioneers] Stadium on Margaret Island. That became his second home, and in many ways, his real school. ‘Sanyi bácsi’ taught them far more than just the Gokyo, he prepared them for life.
Do you remember your first competition? “Oh yes. I was maybe eight. No pressure. It was more like, ‘There’s a tournament this weekend, let’s go see what happens’. ‘Sanyi bácsi’ had little groups all over different areas. We would meet up and compete together. It felt like a festival more than a fight.”
When did it get serious? Or did it?“Yes, when I moved to the sport-focused school, Csík Ferenc Primary and Secondary School. From there, it was two training sessions a day, every day. Soon after, we started winning different titles. Travelled abroad. France, Italy, Sweden and other countries. We were lucky as back then, we are talking about late ’80s – early ’90s, those opportunities were rare. There weren’t age-group European Championships back then. Just juniors and seniors. We were thrown into it young.”
And yet, you kept up with your studies…“Had to. ‘Sanyi bácsi’ was strict about that. It wasn’t just judo. If your grades dropped, you would hear about it. We had to show our school logbooks daily and he signed it. I was lucky, I liked learning. I didn’t need to be a private student or take special exams. I just got on with it. I received the award for being an excellent student-athlete of the year of Hungary, which was a big deal because the President of Hungary at the time presented the award to me at a gala in the hall of the Ethnographic Museum, which was, back then, located opposite the Hungarian Parliament. I still remember the ceremony. I was proud and ‘Sanyi bácsi’ was proud too.”
Then came injuries and something even harder… “Indeed. My knees started giving problems at the age of 16. I had a few surgeries, but the real breaking point came when ‘Sanyi bácsi’ suddenly passed away. Heart attack. One day he was there. The next, gone. I was already helping him as an assistant coach. Then overnight, since I was the oldest, I become the one left holding the pieces.”
Krisztián pauses.
“We lost more than a coach. He was a father figure. We spent more time with him than our own parents…and suddenly, it was up to me to carry on.”
How old were you? “I was in my early twenties. Third year in medical school. It was overwhelming but there wasn’t really a choice. The club was our home. The parents looked to me, I just said, ‘Okay. I will do it’, and they backed me. The whole club did. We were a family and not only were, we still are, as until today some of us still goes on holidays together and keep in touch…30 years later… this speaks volume of what a legacy ‘Sanyi bácsi’ have built.”
That must have changed your path as a judoka. “It did. I still did a few competitions, but my time on the mat was ending as an athlete. Between the injuries and the responsibility… you know when it’s time to let go.”
Letting go is one thing but have you ever fully processed the way you had to let go, suddenly, almost unnaturally, as if life forced your hand? “Honestly, yes. The injuries made it clear and even if ‘Sanyi bácsi’ had lived longer, I don’t think my career would have turned out differently.”
Still, you didn’t let go of judo entirely. “Never. I started refereeing when I was about 14 or 15. Again thanks to ‘Sanyi bácsi’ as he made us learn every part of the sport, coaching, refereeing etc. He said you can’t understand judo unless you know all sides of it. I am grateful he did.”
Can we talk briefly about your coaching career? “Sure. I coached Bor Barna myself, all the way until he was 18, right up to the moment he won his Junior World Championship medal. It was tough, serious work until then, but of course, he wasn’t the only one. Still, he’s probably the name people would recognise today. Back then, we had a whole group of outstanding Hungarian judoka training together. If we dug out some old photos, plenty more names would come to mind. It was a strong team, easily forty judoka, if not more.”
Barna is the head coach now, how does it feel, knowing you helped guide him along the way? “I heard the news, yes, he was appointed national team coach during the season. As an athlete, he really grew himself out. Maybe he didn’t get that Olympic medal, but he won a World Championship medal and placed at the Games. That’s no small feat. He had a long, solid career, competed at three Olympics, and naturally, it means a great deal to see your former athletes achieve things like this. It is the kind of success that would have made ‘Sanyi bácsi’ proud, the same way he once helped shape us.”
So, while all that happened, you were becoming a doctor. Did you always know that was your calling? He pauses before answering. “Always. I thought maybe biology at first, but nature, science, healing, it always pulled me in. I grew up on Sir David Attenborough films and books, but the real turning point came when I had surgery as a teenager. Dr Béres, our team doctor at the time, he showed me what working in the medical field could be. I knew then. He supported and guided me through my early medical career.”
So, your injury, instead of ending something, it lit a new fire and in a way can we say, ‘thanks to judo’? “Yes, partially. Funny how that happened. I started preparing seriously. Took biology and physics as advanced subjects. Enrolled at Semmelweis University. From there it was just… work.”
Work that requires around thirteen years of training, almost equivalent to the core competitive span of an elite athlete’s career. Would you draw a comparison? “You could. It’s the same discipline. Same rhythm. You show up every day. You don’t stop. You learn to keep going even when it’s hard. ‘Sanyi bácsi’ used to say: as long as you can say the words ‘I cannot do this anymore’ then there is still a lot left in you. That’s judo. We wake up at 6am to train and ran on 12-14hrs duties a day. No difference in the medical field. Would I say, because of judo, I had a unique foundation? Absolutely.”
Judoka, Coach, Doctor, Referee… all that whilst still living Hungary. Eventually, life brought you to the United Kingdom. “My wife got an offer to work on a major study in London. We thought we would go for a few months, take a break but you know how that goes… three months turned into an entire career.”
Did you speak English at the time? “Not a word. I would studied Russian, German and Latin. I was a white belt again, this time in life, not professionally but in my language skills; I had no knowledge of the UK National Health Services, no contacts. Despite working my way up in Hungary on the medical ladder if you like, I got a junior doctor job in England, started from the bottom. Took notes of every word I didn’t understand. Cried a lot, and I mean it. Travelled three hours every day but I kept going. Me and my wife lived in a room size of a shoe box at the time. Truly, as I said before, it was like being a white belt all over again.”
Had to jump in and ask the question again: how much of this perseverance do you credit to your journey and life experience in judo? “Everything. The way we were raised was different but when you are inside of a situation you don’t think of anything but solution. Do you walk away in a middle of a judo contest? No, you don’t. You fight for solution, you fall, you get up. So, in short, everything.”
The man who once filled a notebook with unknown English words and, together with his wife, sacrificed plenty, is now the Clinical Director of Trauma and Orthopaedics, Divisional Governance Lead for Surgery, Anaesthetic and Cancer at the West Hertfordshire Teaching Hospital NHS Trust.
“Yes. I have climbed slowly. Transitioned from a white belt to a black belt, if you like. Senior House Officer, Registrar, Senior Registrar, Associate Specialist, then Consultant. Now I am Clinical Director of Trauma and Orthopaedics Department, and Divisional Governance Lead for Anaesthetic Surgery and Cancer. I have also started a small private practice. It has been a long road, but judo prepared me for every step.”
Whilst being very modest to use the term, black belt, his leadership role is more like an 8th Dan (red and white belt) in the medical field. What about judo? Krisztián continues.
“Refereeing is my connection to the sport. I got my B licence 25 years ago, then my A licence later on, in 2014. I can’t train or fight anymore, but when I step onto the mat as a referee… I still feel it. That focus. That buzz. Sometimes my palms even sweat, just like in the old days.”
“Refereeing keeps me in judo. It keeps me close to where I came from. I still travel home to Hungary for tournaments. I keep up with the rule changes. I am part of the community. It is not my profession, but it is part of who I am.”
At the end of our talk, Krisztián stands to leave. He straightens his back, takes a breath, and says. “You know,” he says, “you can be a black belt in one area, and still be a white belt in another. That’s how life works. The point is to keep tying the belt, bowing, and showing up.”
Author: Szandra Szogedi