Asia Cup Conundrum: Sports, Politics and Limits of Tolerance!

You have a neighbour who has waged war against you for over 75 years—militarily as well as through terrorism. Throughout this time, you have tolerated, responded only when provoked, and shown restraint rooted in cultural tolerance. But when your civilians are massacred in cold blood, while on holiday with their families, tolerance begins to border on cowardice—unless there is an adequate response. At that point, it is no longer a dispute; it is war.

We often hear the wise say that sports and politics should not mix. Yet this advice seems much easier to give than to follow. When your nation is reeling from continuous bloodshed, shaking hands with the enemy—even on a sports field—feels like an empty gesture. In such an atmosphere, sports inevitably becomes secondary.

So, what is the solution? At first glance, it seems simple: do not play against the enemy. Do not send teams there, do not host theirs, and halt all cultural and sporting exchanges until the situation stabilizes. Straightforward enough in bilateral contests. However, at global or multi-nation tournaments, the question becomes more complicated. Opting out of participation does send a firm and symbolic message, but it also carries significant implications. It denies athletes critical opportunities, undermines the competitiveness of tournaments, and deprives fans of the very essence of sport—the contest.

Sport today is not a pastime but a global industry. Millions depend on it for their livelihood. Unlike engineers, doctors, or bankers, whose professional careers can last decades, athletes have a brief window to perform and earn. Every contest counts—it is the culmination of years of preparation. Too often, when we call for boycotts, we overlook this reality.

This brings us to India’s recent situation. The seemingly easy answer was: India should not have participated in the Asia Cup. Indeed, political opponents and public voices called for a boycott, supported by hashtags and even street hooliganism, such as breaking televisions showing the games. Yet, they ignored the larger impact. If India withdraws from multilateral competitions, the International Cricket Council (ICC) suffers financially. With the majority of sponsorships dependent on India, ICC events would struggle to survive without Indian participation. Experts from England and Australia often remind India that, as the “big brother” of world cricket, its presence is essential, even at the cost of its own sentiments.

Pakistan, on the other hand, benefits from this structure—its cricketing system survives on revenues generated by Indian audiences and sponsors, even while its administration fuels terrorism across the border. This paradox places the BCCI in a Hobson’s choice. And yet, India’s government, understanding global responsibilities and long-term implications, allowed participation in the Asia Cup.

But what of the players, caught in this crossfire? They are professionals contracted to the BCCI, with little personal choice in the matter. Their only avenue to express solidarity with victims and dissatisfaction with the situation was symbolic gestures—most notably, refusing to engage in handshakes. Predictably, critics labelled this “unsportsmanlike,” ignoring the hypocrisy: those who insist politics should stay out of sport are often the first to inject it selectively when it suits them.

The controversy intensified during the presentation ceremony. Pakistan’s Interior Minister, Mohsin Naqvi, who also heads the Asian Cricket Council (ACC), insisted on personally presenting the trophy despite India’s objections. An administrator’s role is to serve the spirit of the contest, not personal ego. The winners receiving their prize is more significant than who hands it over. Naqvi could have easily avoided the controversy by delegating the task—but instead chose political theatre over sportsmanship.

India, ultimately, lost nothing of substance. The team secured a record eighth Asia Cup title. The trophy presentation, or lack thereof, is symbolic—the real loss was to the credibility of the ACC and its leadership, who failed to uphold the dignity of sport.

So, what lies ahead? Possibly, the end—at least temporarily—of ACC championships. Even in Pakistan, voices may rise against matches with India, as public humiliation must have intensified with off-field drama. For decades, India alone bore the burden of choice—whether to play or not. That equation may finally change, with Pakistan’s administration beginning to feel the pressure of its own public sentiment.

Shubhman Gill – Bliss v Biff

After a long time, saw a good classical test type innings last night from Shubhman Gill at Edgebaston. Innings where the solidity of defence formed the basis of run making. The first thought in facing every ball was to deny a wicket and still think of making a run. Coaxing the ball through the gaps without any undue risk. Either punching it hard to the fence or playing it softly away from the fielder and taking a single, every shot told the opposition that you can’t get me out, try whatever you want to do. Good old classical way of playing cricket.

In the era when the white ball short format cricket takes a centre stage, boundaries are specifically shortened to let unintended batting errors become sixes, bats have blades as thick as a tree trunk and edges give bowlers heart aches instead of wickets, such batting had become an exotic species on the verge of extinction! Cross batted biffs or what I fondly call as “bhathabaji”, where run making is more an accident than design, the numbers on the scorecard often leaves an old timer like me, a self – proclaimed connoisseur of cricket; dissatisfied and in some ways, cheated! Sure, run making is the name of the game. But when it accompanies a quality of batsmanship that pleases the eye, the enjoyment doubles. The short format game has cultivated the era where the run making has become the focus; how you get them, is not! It’s a bit like moving away from meaningful lyrics of a song fitting a melody to the adrenalin pumping rhythm taking the precedence in music making! You enjoy both, but a caress to the fence gives more pleasure to the cricketing soul than a cross batted biff over the fence. In terms of contest also, the former is more valuable as it breaks the bowlers’ confidence while the latter gives the bowler some hope!

Test cricket is a slow burn. A great first innings often doesn’t translate into a great last innings and a win! So, the key is not to just win a contest or small battles. Every battle won must translate into winning a war. And when your opponent is as good or better than you under the conditions, you need to dominate him mentally. Winning a few sessions isn’t enough. This is where showing complete command over your batsmanship gives your opponent despair. And equally importantly, your team a belief that you can win the war. When it comes from the leader, it acts as a tonic for the team.

Years back, in Indian cricket, Sunny Gavaskar’s batting used to give Indian team a hope that they can draw a test match, which was equal to a win in those days! Then a series of batters came along who took Indian batsmanship to new heights and instilled belief that we can win. There was solidity coupled with aesthetic beauty in run making. And occasionally that transcended into ethereal experience of watching a batter use his bat as a wizard’s wand and create magic. Watching Very Very Special Laxman gave me that feeling. Last night, Shubhman Gill reminded me of that bygone era of ethereal beauty, where he and batters like Mark Waugh used to not just rule the cricket field but also our hearts. Those beautiful memories had somehow got buried under the bazzballing avalanche. Thanks Shubhman, for reviving those great memories. May this continue through the series and beyond and make this ungainly contest between bliss and biff in test cricket, irrelevant!