Tariq Mahmood Awan
A seemingly innocuous veterans’ cricket match between India and Pakistan has become yet another reminder of how deeply entrenched India’s bias against Pakistan has become—not just in policy or diplomacy but now deeply embedded within cultural and sporting platforms. The abrupt withdrawal of Indian players from the match—particularly Shikhar Dhawan’s public refusal to participate—reflects not a tactical decision, but a deliberate act of politicizing sport. This act is not merely a cancellation of a game; it is a symbolic gesture of exclusion and cultural posturing, showcasing India’s structured hostility towards Pakistan.
The match was scheduled under the banner of the World Championship of Legends (WCL), a league designed to bring back retired international cricketers to relive the spirit of competition in a peaceful, entertaining environment. Held in England—a neutral and historically sports-loving nation—the WCL offered an opportunity to project sportsmanship, nostalgia, and goodwill. Yet India, under the guise of “geopolitical tensions,” chose to derail the event, proving once again how deeply the Modi-era nationalism has distorted even the spirit of a friendly game.
According to the WCL’s own statement, the match had been planned in light of “recent positive developments” in bilateral sporting relations—specifically referencing a recent volleyball match and potential hockey tours. These small steps were symbolic gestures toward thawing decades of tension. However, with the Indian players’ decision to boycott the fixture, that hope of normalization through sports has been deliberately sabotaged.
What stands out in this unfortunate episode is not merely the withdrawal itself, but the context and reasoning behind it. Shikhar Dhawan’s social media post referenced “prevailing tensions,” despite no active conflict between the two nations at present. The justification is flimsy at best, and a thinly veiled political signal at worst. It reflects a broader strategy of portraying Pakistan not as a competitor or neighbour but as an adversary that must be avoided—even in sports.
This growing cultural isolationism has troubling implications. It reveals a mindset in India that no longer separates sports from politics, nor diplomacy from domestic grandstanding. Sports, once a celebrated domain of people-to-people connection, have now been weaponized. Cricket, especially, has become a tool in the Indian state’s soft power arsenal—a market-driven space where India’s clout is being used to marginalize Pakistan internationally.
This isn’t the first time. During earlier standoffs, Indian officials and former cricketers like Gautam Gambhir called for complete disengagement with Pakistan across all cricketing formats. India has time and again tried to pressure the International Cricket Council (ICC) to isolate Pakistan, despite there being no credible case or sporting rationale behind such demands. The latest WCL episode only adds another page to this unfortunate playbook.
One cannot ignore the international backdrop. Just days before the WCL match cancellation, former U.S. President Donald Trump revealed that during the recent India-Pakistan skirmish, India reportedly lost over five jets and urgently reached out to the U.S. for a ceasefire. In light of this humiliation on the global stage, India’s cultural and sporting establishments seem to be indulging in overcompensatory nationalism—marketing their insecurity as moral superiority.
The danger here is twofold: first, it undermines the idea that sports can be a neutral ground for peace, and second, it paints Pakistan in a villainous light without evidence or engagement. Cricket fans across the world, many of whom were looking forward to the nostalgia of seeing legends like Yuvraj Singh and Mohammad Hafeez square off, are left disillusioned. The politics of one nation has robbed them of a sporting memory.
Worse yet, the WCL organizers had to apologize—not to Pakistan, but to Indian players and fans—for “hurting sentiments” and “causing discomfort.” This reversal of victimhood is both ironic and sad. It was Pakistan’s players who showed up, ready to play in good faith. It was Indian players who pulled out, yet the narrative suggests they were wronged.
Please, subscribe to the YouTube channel of republicpolicy.com for quality content.
This has larger implications for global sport. When the biggest market of cricket starts dictating who can play and who can’t—not based on sporting merit but political mood—it corrodes the spirit of the game. India’s economic muscle and its influence over the ICC cannot justify a strategy of deliberate alienation. Petty decisions like this embarrass India in the eyes of the international sporting community, even if mainstream Indian media portrays it as patriotic resistance.
Political figures in Pakistan, including PPP Senator Sherry Rehman, rightly condemned the cancellation, calling it an extension of Modi’s divisive politics into the realm of sport. “Defeat on the battlefield, failure in diplomacy, and now fleeing from sports,” she wrote, describing India’s actions as an “embarrassment on every front.” Her remarks underscore a critical point—this is not about cricket anymore; it is about identity, ego, and an unwillingness to share space with Pakistan under any pretense.
At a time when the subcontinent is grappling with real challenges—economic instability, climate change, and regional insecurity—the need for shared platforms like sport becomes more vital. Cricket has historically played a role in soft diplomacy between India and Pakistan, including the famous cricket tours of 2004 and 2005 that opened new avenues of people-to-people interaction. Today’s approach undermines that legacy and projects hostility where reconciliation is most needed.
The real question is this: if even retired cricketers cannot face each other without invoking “geopolitical tensions,” what future is there for regional peace? Has the politicization of sport become so deep that not even nostalgia, camaraderie, and shared history can bring two nations together on a cricket field?
India’s leadership, sporting authorities, and former athletes must reflect on this trajectory. They may win applause at home for “taking a stand,” but globally, they appear as isolationist, reactionary, and deeply insecure. Pakistan, by contrast, has emerged from this incident with its dignity intact—ready to play, willing to engage, and standing on higher moral ground.
In the end, cricket is more than just a game—it is a mirror. And what India’s actions have reflected this time is not strength or principle, but pettiness and fear. A true sporting nation knows how to compete and coexist. India, for now, seems to have forgotten both.
