In the football World Cup, an Indian corner on a foreign field

Every time a football World Cup draws close, a tale is retold, with new embellishments. Back in 1950, India qualified for a World Cup but had to forgo the chance as the players, used to playing barefoot, weren’t used to wearing boots. The story is a reminder, however, of days when India was on the global football map. These days, the country takes vicarious pride in celebrating those of Indian heritage representing other nations on the field. Like Qatar’s Tahsin Mohammed Jamshid, whose father once aspired to play for India but could not find the ecosystem his son grew up in. He packed up his dreams and went to West Asia, like many of his generation in northern Kerala. Or New Zealand’s Sarpreet Singh, whose parents migrated from Jalandhar. Or those of scattered Indian descent like Australia’s Nishan Velupillay and Congo’s Samuel Moutoussamy.

India is not producing high-class footballers or qualifying for global tournaments not because of genetics or mindset, or even a sporting culture, but because of the infrastructure — the lack of a systematically meritocratic environment, of a robust league. In a conducive backdrop, India’s football, too, can grow. But until recently, the Indian Super League was shrouded in uncertainty; the I-League is in a shambles; the old nurseries have dried up.

Countries once far behind India have raced past it and are now light years ahead. But Indian football, which FIFA bosses like to call a sleeping giant, can still wake up. It requires vision, planning, coaching efficiency, and rigorous execution. Just easing the passport rules will not bear long-lasting results. Until then, however, the 1950 story will be retold as a tale of regret and a hollow boast.