EXILE, be it enforced or self-imposed, tends to test individual resolve. And Brent Sancho has faced up to both forms of isolation.

Ostracised from Trinidad and Tobago’s national team for refusing a managerial order to chop his dreadlocks, a cut that would have contravened his Rastafarian beliefs, Sancho found himself the figurehead of a remarkable revolution in Trinidadian football when he boldly led a 19-man strike over what he perceived to be unacceptable training conditions.

It is to the credit of the stout-hearted 26-year-old defender of rights that he still smiles, and it is only after an engrossing hour in his company at Dens Park of an afternoon - as he eloquently articulates his epic tale of confrontation tinged with personal tragedy - that you realise we have singularly failed to touch upon the more prosaic everyday musings of most Premierleague footballers: tactics, league positions, today’s clash with Kilmarnock.

Sancho is evidently an athlete with a hinterland.

At 21, his unwillingness to lop off his hair caused the impediment to his inclusion in the national squad of then-manager Bertille St Clair.

"He was just not letting me play," says Sancho in a languid drawl, a product of teenage years spent in Brooklyn, New York. "I wasn’t allowed to play because I had dreadlocks. You have talent and you want to represent your country, and yet you are being told ‘No’ because you don’t want to conform to something.

"To me it was absolutely ludicrous. It was just so sad."

Five years on, and Sancho was with the Dundee team at Kettering for a pre-season match. Still awaiting clearance to play for his new club, he headed for a seat in the stand, and by remarkable coincidence, came across the said St Clair.

"I hadn’t seen him since that whole incident. He got fired because of it, and I see him sitting there," the player recalls in amazement.

What did he do? "We both started talking, and he more or less apologised to me. We mended some fences: it was an unbelievable feeling to get that off your chest."

Sancho got something else off his chest in January. Utterly disillusioned with the Trinidadian team set-up - excruciatingly-lengthy training sessions, perennial absence of food and drink supplements - he instigated a mass walkout two days ahead of a friendly with Finland. Repercussions and castigation were inevitable.

The Trinidad and Tobago Football Federation suspended the 19 absentees indefinitely, and the authority were able to influence initial press coverage, captain Sancho and his fellow strikers being portrayed as mostly motivated by money.

"It was a tough time. It was probably the biggest decision I have ever made in my life, but when I think back, I would do it again and again, because it was right. I am not a person who would sit back and let people be taken advantage of.

"I thought, if I did not stand up there and then - when will it happen? And the other guys showed tremendous courage because it is tough in Trinidad. It was not like a democracy: it was more communist rule and an iron fist.

"The federation made it look like we were striking for money, but we simply wanted better conditions. They just did not understand that we should have a say as players."

Sancho’s idea of a Trinidadian footballers’ association was born: he wished players to have a voice, and after their views were aired, opinion shifted, and eventually their suspensions were lifted.

"We stood up for our rights, and then people who played in the 1970s and 80s were coming forward and telling us about the injustices they went through. I would listen to these people and think: ‘How could you not stand up?’ But I think at that time a lot of people were afraid."

How are things several months down the line from that initial player action? "It’s slow, but any improvement is good for me," Sancho reflects. "Our association should be commended for making not strides, but efforts. There are people who believe in one way of thinking, and it is hard to change a point of view that they have had for years."

Seemingly adept at mending fences after tearing them down, Sancho last played for his country in Africa in June, and is looking forward to a couple of friendly games. He is a fan of the new national manager, Stuart Charles Fevrier, who was appointed in the wake of the strike and suspensions. "He’s tremendous. He is definitely an advocate of the players."

Sancho grew up in New York amid a West Indian population that made the city feel like a home from home, but he was not so complacent as to avoid other cultures. He loved Brooklyn - "hearing stories from different walks of life".

He studied psychology and sports management at university, and also spent six months as a children’s counsellor - "an experience that I would not take back. I liked helping people. I think, for me, everything kind of stems from that time".

Football? He was a striker at college, and his first club move after graduation was to Finland: the young Sancho spent a year as a defensive midfielder with Mypa 47. Highly influential on the field, he scored eight times and helped them to qualify for Europe. Thereafter, the tapestry took in two seasons with Portland Timbers in Oregon, plus stints in Trinidad with the quaintly-named Joe Public and San Juan Jabloteh.

In Trinidad in January, before the strike action, Sancho performed twice against Dundee during their winter break. He impressed Jim Duffy, and the manager granted him a two-year deal, which brings with it the promise of UEFA Cup appearances: Dundee will face Perugia in the first round after completing the preliminaries with a 6-0 aggregate advantage over Vllaznia.

Like most Trinidadians, Sancho wanted to play in Britain, a desire born of listening to the experiences of trailblazers such as Dwight Yorke, Stern John and Russell Latapy. "I remember rubbing shoulders with those guys in the national team, and just eavesdropping on some of their conversations." He grins.

Though his friend, Marvin Andrews, has decided against Tayside, he has Collin Samuel and Jason Scotland at the other end of Tannadice Street. Another home from home.

Some of Sancho’s family still live in New York. Indeed, he previously worked at the World Trade Center, and lost two friends from his schooldays on September 11 two years ago.

A month after the terrorist attacks, Sancho was in Trinidad with the national squad when death came even closer. Tired after training, he declined the invitation of his room-mate to accompany him on a drive to his mother’s house. Awakened in the night, Sancho learned that his long-time friend had crashed his vehicle into a lamp-post, and had died with two passengers.

"I remember getting up thinking: ‘This can’t be true, all of his stuff is here. He’s going to come back really soon.’ It made me realise how fragile life is, and how as a person you need to go out and make use of the life that you have."

He became a born-again Christian in February, around the time of his conflict with the authorities. "My entire family are Christians, and I think it was a matter of time before I became one. When you go through hard times, the one person you always turn back to is God."

Does he foresee a life after football when he will be drawn to crusades like the one he set in motion this year? Is the fight for redressing injustices a crucial component of his nature that perhaps cannot be quelled?

"It’s so funny," he sighs. "It seems like I am heading down that way. I am always thirsty and hungry for information. Despite the fact I’m thinking I don’t want to go there, I feel that I will, and I would love to go back and fully set up the Trinidad football association.

"That would be a dream come true for me, if I could go back and get things running the way myself and 18 other guys envisioned it."

You would not bet against his realising the dream.

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