Football on the brink

Strap: 2027 Asian Cup qualification hopes shattered in Hong Kong shocker, sparking urgent calls for Indian football’s grassroots-to-top overhaul

Blurb:

The on-field failures are mirrored and perhaps worsened by the off-field drama. Headlines have more often focused on administrative chaos than match-day results. 

Byline: Rakesh Ganesh

Indian football hit a new low — and this time, there’s no sugarcoating it. A toothless, disjointed Indian men’s team crashed to a shocking 0-1 defeat against a lower-ranked Hong Kong in a do-or-die 2027 AFC Asian Cup Qualifier. Bereft of spark, bite, and belief, the performance wasn’t just poor — it was alarming.

With qualification hopes now dangling by a thread, the fallout has been swift and scathing. From furious fans to former pros, voices are growing louder for a sweeping reset of Indian football’s leadership and vision. So, the question now echoes louder than ever – what exactly is going wrong with Indian men’s football?

A crumbling facade

The writing was already on the wall after a dull, goalless draw against Bangladesh in March. But the crushing 0-1 defeat to Hong Kong has made one thing brutally clear – Indian football isn’t just stagnating — it’s sliding backwards. For once, in the aftermath, there was an unusual flicker of honesty. A few club owners and high-ranking officials finally admitted they’ve been part of the problem. But these rare moments of self-reflection quickly fade in a system plagued by long-standing structural flaws.

India’s FIFA ranking, as of June 2025, stands at a dismal 133 — just two spots above its worst-ever mark from 2016. While footballing nations like Jordan have turned their fate around and made it to the World Cup, India continues to scrape the bottom of the barrel in Asia, barely holding on to Asian Cup qualification hopes.

The on-field failures are mirrored and perhaps worsened by the off-field drama. Headlines have more often focused on administrative chaos than match-day results. From Igor Štimac’s unceremonious exit after clashing with the AIFF, to the opaque decision-making that plagues the federation, Indian football has long been stuck in a cycle of damage control.

Manolo Márquez’s appointment as head coach in July 2024 was supposed to signal a new era. His record with Hyderabad FC and FC Goa spoke of promise, especially in nurturing young talent. But that promise has quickly faded. In seven games, Márquez has managed just one win, a routine victory against the Maldives, while drawing four and losing the rest.

Critics have been quick to pounce, with many questioning the logic behind letting him juggle roles between club and country. It’s a familiar tale. From Stephen Constantine to Štimac and now Márquez, the national team’s dugout has become a revolving door. Coaches arrive with optimism, only to exit under fire. But if three very different coaches with contrasting philosophies have all failed, perhaps the problem lies not in the men guiding the team — but in the team itself. At this point, the question is impossible to ignore – are Indian players even good enough to compete in Asia? And if not, what’s being done to close that gap? So far, the answer remains painfully consistent — not much.

Player accountability in question

For far too long, the blame game in Indian football has been conveniently restricted to coaches and federation politics. The players, somehow, always dodge the bullet. But let’s not mince words — this generation of Indian footballers is falling alarmingly short. The technical ability is rudimentary, the desire tepid, and the passion? Practically invisible.

On matchdays, the team often looks like it’s trying to solve a riddle just to complete three consecutive passes. Body language reeks of surrender, not spirit. And in the aftermath of crushing defeats, there’s an eerie silence — no accountability, no outreach, no explanations.

Veterans disappear, while the younger lot rehearse the same tired script about the “honour of wearing the jersey”. The disconnect between talk and action has never been more glaring. And it’s not just the players. The system is complicit — bloated salaries, pampered lifestyles, and a competitive environment where mediocrity thrives. FC Goa CEO Ravi Puskur nailed it, “The system is rotten in ways we refuse to admit. Everything moves on influence, favours, and fragile egos. Clubs—mine included—have inflated player salaries irresponsibly. We are outbidding each other for perception, knowing fully well it’s unsustainable. Then we act shocked when these players fall flat on the international stage. We built that illusion”

Clubs have abandoned grassroots investment, instead outbidding each other in a self-defeating transfer market, creating a small pool of players who are passed around in a game of musical chairs. Not too long ago, India stood shoulder to shoulder with nations like Uzbekistan and Jordan in the FIFA rankings — trading blows, competing on level ground. Today, those same nations have booked their historic tickets to the World Cup in the Americas.

The contrast is stark, especially when you consider the financial landscape. Indian footballers, on average, earn significantly more than their counterparts from these two countries. And yet, it’s Uzbekistan and Jordan who are now world-stage ready — not us. India, meanwhile, is stuck watching from the sidelines — not just literally, but philosophically.

Youth coaches like Bibiano Fernandes and Naushad Moosa have been sounding alarms for years. Promising players are shoved into ISL squads too early, where they rot on benches instead of gaining crucial match experience. There’s no structured pathway — no clear climb from U15 to U18 to I-League to ISL to the national team. Instead, players leapfrog into the spotlight, stagnate, and fade away.

Worse still, there are whispers of players skipping national duty, faking injuries to avoid camps. If true, it isn’t just an indictment of individual commitment — it’s a damning reflection of how low national pride now ranks in Indian football’s ecosystem. This isn’t a slump. It’s the inevitable result of years of neglect, entitlement, and system-wide denial. Tactical tweaks or foreign imports won’t save us.

What Indian football needs is a cultural reboot — one where accountability is non-negotiable, development is prioritized over showbiz, and the national jersey commands not just rhetoric, but respect.