Cricket Loses, Politics Wins

The Asia Cup 2025 final between India and Pakistan proved that when politics engulfs sport, both lose.

Cricket has always thrived as more than just a contest of bat and ball. For South Asia, it carries the weight of identity, memory, and rivalry. No fixture captures this better than India versus Pakistan. For these two teams, it is an arena where national pride collides with professional sport. Yet the Asia Cup 2025 final in Dubai reminded us how fragile that balance can be. India may have defeated Pakistan thrice in the tournament, including the finals, but the real drama unfolded not on the pitch but on the podium -where the champions did not lift the trophy.

What unfolded was bizarre even by the melodramatic standards of India-Pakistan cricket. After a tense chase, India clawed back from 20 for 3 to secure a five-wicket win. Mohsin Naqvi, Pakistan’s Interior Minister and also chairman of the Asian Cricket Council, waited awkwardly with the trophy in his hands. For over an hour, the Indian team stayed away, refusing to accept the medal. Finally, Naqvi walked off, trophy in hand, leaving fans and commentators stunned. Victory had been reduced to political theatre.

To understand the boycott, one must trace the political undercurrents. BCCI secretary DevajitSaikia was firm that the team would not receive honours from a minister representing a hostile neighbour implicated in terror attacks and inflammatory rhetoric. On the surface, the decision reflects national conviction. After all, how can sport be insulated from bloodshed and hostility?

But contradictions abound. India had already played Pakistan thrice in the tournament, under Naqvi’s very supervision. The BCCI attended meetings he chaired. The players shared the same stage in photo-ops. If principle was truly the compass, the honourable step would have been non-participation from the start. Instead, India competed, dominated and then drew a line at a handshake and a trophy. The gesture was less about conviction than a political stance staged at the wrong moment.

History offers similar precedents. Sporting boycotts, from apartheid-era South Africa to Cold War Olympics, have been absolute and unambiguous. While they certainly carried costs, they at least carried clarity. India’s partial protest – playing with intensity only to reject the ceremonial handshake - emerges as muddled symbolism.

Spirit betrayed

The deeper worry lies in sportsmanship. Cricket has long prided itself on being a gentleman’s game, where rivalries, however fierce, end in gestures of mutual respect. That handshake at the end is no triviality -it is a ritual that elevates competition into camaraderie.

By refusing to engage off the field, India blurred the line between legitimate political protest and professional decorum. It was not Pakistan’s players who authored terror attacks. To snub them at the presentation was to reduce athletes to proxies of their governments. This violates the very spirit of cricket.

Legends have often reminded us of this distinction. Sachin Tendulkar once said that respect for opponents is as vital as runs on the scoreboard. Ian Chappell, never one to mince words, has long argued that mixing sport with politics creates a “recipe for hypocrisy.” The Asia Cup final proved both men right. Fans may cheer Bumrah’s clever imitation of Haris Rauf’s jet-plane celebration, but few would admire a refusal to shake hands.

Former England captain Michael Vaughan once quipped that India-Pakistan matches have more subplots than a Bollywood movie. He was right, but even Bollywood would reject this script for being too twisted.

India had cleaner choices. A complete boycott of the tournament would have been a massive statement, and cost them dearly in terms of preparation for future events, and sent a distinct message. Instead, they chose a middle path that satisfied no one and confused everyone -play the matches, win the tournament, but perform a protest ritual at every opportunity.

The irony thickened when BCCI officials criticised Naqvi for “walking away” with the trophy. To reject a gift and then complain of its removal is akin to declining a wedding invitation and lamenting the absence of dinner. In diplomacy as in sport, consistency matters.

Even more worrying is how easily cricket was militarised during this tournament. Pakistani players imitated fighter jets after wickets; Indians responded in kind. Press conferences dissolved into whataboutery. Even media boxes echoed with war metaphors. When heads of government and administrators dub innings as ‘Operation Tilak’ or ‘Operation Sindoor,’ they stretch the metaphor past breaking point. Cricket is reduced to a proxy battlefield, stripped of its joyous spontaneity. Every time political posturing eclipses athletic brilliance, the game’s spirit dims.

Larger lessons

The Asia Cup 2025 must serve as a cautionary tale. Sport can never be fully insulated from politics, but when politics consumes sport, both lose. The cricketing moments of the tournament -Bumrah’s precision, Samson’s composure, Varma’s poise - were overshadowed by petulance and misplaced symbolism.

India’s players may have felt genuine anger. The Pahalgam terror attacks were fresh wounds. Yet walking away from a trophy did not avenge them; it only diminished the dignity of champions. Once committed, however, professionalism demanded grace.

In the end, cricket is resilient. It has survived wars, corruption, and shifting formats. It will survive this episode too. But the question remains: when did lifting a cup become heavier than lifting the spirit of the game?

Tilak Varma’s controlled 69 not out should have dominated headlines. Instead, newspapers carried images of an unclaimed trophy and a minister leaving with it. For now, the enduring memory of Asia Cup 2025 is not India’s cricketing dominance over Pakistan, but beyond the boundary. And perhaps, that is the saddest scorecard of all.

(The writer is a Bengaluru-basedfreelancer. Views personal.)