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In the 1960s and 1970s, sport was a way of life in India’s schools and colleges. Every district hosted tournaments; every university had intercollegiate competitions that filled fields and galleries with noise and pride. Cricket, hockey, athletics, football, volleyball, and kabaddi all had their following. Playing for one’s college or district meant something; it built discipline, identity, and community. Sport was not about glamour or money; it was about participation.
Gradually, however, the fields began to thin out. Academic pressure grew, school infrastructure declined, and investment at the district and state levels faded. What was once routine became occasional. By the early 1980s, sport was already losing its grassroots grip, until 1983 Cricket World Cup changed the national mood overnight.
India’s triumph was historic. Kapil Dev lifting the trophy at Lord’s became an enduring image, while Sunil Gavaskar and others turned into household names. Television carried cricket into every home. Every boundary was cheered, every wicket replayed. The nation found a new obsession.
But in that moment of collective pride, a quieter shift took place. Cricket did not just grow – it became dominant. India, almost without noticing, became a one-sport nation.
Other sports, once vibrant in school grounds and small towns, were pushed to the margins. Hockey, once India’s pride with Olympic golds, lost its sheen. Football faded from public attention. Kabaddi and athletics survived, but often without recognition or support. Parents, naturally drawn to success, nudged children towards cricket. Institutions followed suit. Over time, sport as a diverse ecosystem collapsed into a single narrative: cricket as a career, everything else as a hobby.
The consequences of this shift went beyond empty playgrounds. A nation that stops playing begins to lose more than fitness. Sport teaches teamwork, resilience, strategy, and the ability to handle both victory and defeat. These are not merely athletic traits; they are life skills, business skills, leadership skills. When sport disappears from the formative years, the loss is not just of athletes, but of mindset.
For nearly two decades after 1983, Indian sport lived under cricket’s long shadow. Infrastructure stagnated, local competitions dwindled, and talent pipelines weakened. Only in the last decade has a revival begun, driven largely by private investment and professional leagues. Initiatives like the Indian Super League, Pro Kabaddi League, and the revival of hockey leagues have brought visibility, sponsorship, and dignity back to players who once struggled in obscurity.
Yet, this revival remains uneven. Cricket stands on billion-dollar foundations; most other sports are still finding their feet – sometimes literally, on grounds that are either inadequate or missing. In urban India, children are more likely to swipe screens than sprint across fields. In many schools, “sports period” remains optional, often the first casualty of academic pressure.
Globally, sport has evolved far beyond recreation. It is industry, diplomacy, and soft power. Countries such as the United States, United Kingdom, and Japan have built robust sporting ecosystems that generate employment, tourism, and national pride. Sporting success creates confidence that spills over into business, governance, and innovation. The discipline of sport mirrors the discipline of enterprise.
A nation that does not play risks falling behind not only in medals, but in mindset. Sport builds the ability to compete without hostility, to lose without collapse, and to win without arrogance. These are the qualities that define both strong teams and strong economies.
India’s challenge, therefore, is not merely to win more medals, but to rebuild its sporting culture from the ground up. Schools must once again become spaces where children play, compete, and learn through sport. District and state-level tournaments must return as regular features, not rare events. Investment – public and private – must extend beyond cricket into athletics, football, and indigenous sports.
If India aspires to be among the world’s leading economies, it must think like a sporting nation – competitive, resilient, and physically active. A sportsless nation may still produce engineers and managers, but it risks losing the instinct to take risks, to collaborate, and to push limits.
The 1960s and 1970s taught India to play for pride. The 1980s taught it to watch for glory. The 2020s must teach it to balance both, to play, to watch, and to grow together.
As India builds highways, ports, and factories, it must also rebuild its playing fields. Because a fit nation is not just healthier, it is sharper, more cohesive, and more confident in every arena.
In the end, the measure of progress is not only GDP or technology, but the energy and spirit of its people. A country that plays together stays together.
And perhaps, after decades of watching, it is time we stepped back onto the field.
Col KL Viswanathan
(The author is an Indian Army veteran and a contemporary affairs commentator. The views are personal. He can be reached at kl.viswanathan@gmail.com )
These pieces are being published as they have been received – they have not been edited/fact-checked by ThePrint.