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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same...

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same narrative unfolded on a cricket field, the reaction would have been dramatically different. In cricket, even defeat often becomes a story of heroism. A hard-fought loss by the Indian team can dominate television debates, fill newspaper columns and trend across social media for days. A player who narrowly misses a milestone is still hailed for his fighting spirit. The nation rallies around its cricketers not only in victory but also in defeat. The narrative quickly shifts from the result to the effort -- the resilience shown, the fight put up, the promise of future triumph. This emotional investment is one of the reasons cricket enjoys unparalleled popularity in India. It has built a culture where players become household names and their performances, good or bad, become part of the national conversation. Badminton Fights Contrast that with what happens in sports like badminton. Reaching the final of the All England Championships is a monumental achievement. The tournament is widely considered badminton’s equivalent of Wimbledon in prestige and tradition. Only the very best players manage to reach its final stages, and doing it twice speaks volumes about Lakshya Sen’s ability and consistency. Yet the reaction in India remained largely subdued. There were congratulatory posts, some headlines acknowledging the effort and brief discussions among badminton enthusiasts. But the level of national engagement never quite matched the magnitude of the achievement. In a cricketing context, reaching such a stage would have triggered days of celebration and analysis. In badminton, it often becomes just another sports update. Long Wait India’s wait for an All England champion continues. The last Indian to win the title was Pullela Gopichand in 2001. Before him, Prakash Padukone had scripted history in 1980. These victories remain among the most significant milestones in Indian badminton. And yet, unlike cricketing triumphs that are frequently revisited and celebrated, such achievements rarely stay in the mainstream sporting conversation for long. Lakshya Sen’s journey to the final should ideally have been viewed as a continuation of that legacy, a reminder that India still possesses the talent to challenge the world’s best in badminton. Instead, it risks fading quickly from public memory. Visibility Gap The difference ultimately comes down to visibility and cultural investment. Cricket in India is not merely a sport; it is an ecosystem built over decades through media attention, sponsorship, and mass emotional attachment. Individual sports, on the other hand, often rely on momentary bursts of recognition, usually during Olympic years or when a medal is won. But consistent performers like Lakshya Sen rarely receive the sustained spotlight that their achievements deserve. This disparity can also influence the next generation. Young athletes are naturally drawn to sports where success brings recognition, financial stability and national fame. When one sport monopolises the spotlight, others struggle to build similar appeal. Beyond Result Lakshya Sen may have finished runner-up again, but his performance at the All England Championship is a reminder that India continues to produce world-class athletes in disciplines beyond cricket. The real issue is not that cricket receives immense attention -- it deserves the admiration it gets. The concern is that athletes from other sports often do not receive comparable appreciation for achievements that are equally significant in their own arenas. If India aspires to become a truly global sporting nation, its applause must grow broader. Sporting pride cannot remain confined to one field. Because somewhere on a badminton court, an athlete like Lakshya Sen is fighting just as hard for the country’s colours as any cricketer on a packed stadium pitch. The only difference is how loudly the nation chooses to cheer.

The Accidental Manager: When Competence Outruns Capability

Most managers weren’t chosen to lead. They were promoted because someone had to.

The Promotion No One Prepared For. Every small company eventually reaches the awkward middle.


The founder can’t do everything anymore, so the best performers are handed new titles.


They move from doing the work to managing it. And overnight, the organization’s rhythm changes.


At The Workshop … the same design firm we met last week … Meera had just been promoted.


She’d been the backbone of every project: dependable, detail-obsessed, the one who fixed what others missed.


The founder called her into his office and said, “You’ll lead the design team now.


You’ve earned it.” She smiled, said yes, and stayed late that night out of pride.


Two weeks later, she was staying late again … but this time out of confusion.


The Shift Nobody Named

On paper, nothing had changed. Same office. Same colleagues. Same projects. But now, the people who used to brainstorm with her waited for “instructions.” Her inbox filled with questions she didn’t know how to answer.


Her calendar filled with meetings that didn’t move work forward. By month’s end, she wasn’t designing anymore. She was approving, mediating, firefighting.


No one had done anything wrong. But everyone was suddenly off-beat. This is how most leadership layers are born not by design, but by necessity. Competence gets mistaken for readiness. Performance becomes a proxy for potential. And somewhere between enthusiasm and exhaustion, a new creature emerges in every growing team: the accidental manager.


Why Good Performers Struggle

The problem isn’t talent. It’s translation. High performers are wired to fix things themselves. Managers are meant to help others fix things. That’s not a small jump; it’s a psychological migration. But no one tells Meera that.


Her founder assumes she’ll “figure it out.” Her team assumes she already knows. Caught between admiration and expectation, she learns to improvise authority. Soon she’s trying to be everyone’s buffer and everyone’s boss. The team starts avoiding her not because they dislike her, but because they sense her uncertainty.


She starts avoiding them because every conversation now feels like confrontation. This is how chaos enters quietly … not through rebellion, but through inexperience.


The Skill–Role Gap

In most growing companies, the first layer of managers carries the highest invisible risk. They’re skilled enough to lead but untrained to manage. They understand deliverables, not dynamics. They can control outcomes, but not energy.


And because the system hasn’t caught up. No check-ins, no review rhythm, no clear handoff rules … everyone ends up guessing. The founder feels the team is “losing discipline.” The team feels the founder is “micromanaging again.”


Both are right, and both are tired. What’s really broken isn’t intent. It’s scaffolding.


The Reframe

Leadership isn’t a promotion. It’s a change in identity. A good manager doesn’t stop doing work; they start shaping the conditions where work gets done better. They replace intensity with rhythm, pressure with process, instinct with insight. And none of that happens by accident.


Yet in most organizations, the phrase “we’ll train them later” is where growth begins to fray. Because by the time you notice management chaos, it’s already culture.


The Human Moment

One evening, Meera stayed back after everyone left. She opened her laptop, stared at the half-finished design she hadn’t touched since her promotion, and whispered to herself, “I miss being good at my job.”


That line stays with me every time I meet a first-time manager who feels lost inside a title they never trained for. They didn’t fail upward. They were just never taught how to turn authority into rhythm.


The Quiet Reflection

The accidental manager isn’t the villain of growth; they’re its first casualty. They expose the gap between what a company celebrates and what it sustains. Between rewarding effort and equipping evolution.


If The People Paradox began with emotional drift, this chapter is about functional drift, the point where good intentions collide with missing design.


(The writer is co-founder at PPS Consulting. He helps growth-stage leaders design systems where people and performance evolve together. Views personal.)

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