There’s hardly been a multilateral sports tournament in recent memory as steeped in warlike controversies as the 2025 Asia Cup in Dubai. The exclusion of Russia from the 2024 Olympics or the 2022 FIFA World Cup could be cited as examples, but those were decisions taken quietly behind closed doors by sporting authorities. This edition of the Asia Cup, however, turned out to be a very different affair. The three matches played between India and Pakistan were filled with theatrical displays of jingoism: hand gestures mimicking crashing fighter jets, refusals to offer the customary handshakes, clashes involving the match referee and what appeared to be a proxy war between the two cricket boards.

This intensity is rooted in a long history. The two countries have fought several wars, and their cricketing ties have been deeply affected. Since the 2008 Mumbai attacks, carried out by gunmen linked to Pakistan, they have played only one bilateral series, hosted by India in 2012. Yet on the rare occasions when they did meet, the players carried themselves on the field with a degree of grace and neutrality. That line has now been erased with players and politicians acting alike. The way this year’s Asia Cup unfolded offered clear evidence of how cricket is being militarised, not by accident but as a deliberate performance to sustain a spectacle that generates billions of dollars.

Despite being fined for making comments deemed political – dedicating India’s win to the victims of the Pahalgam attack and the Indian armed forces – at a post-match news conference on September 14, India’s captain, Suryakumar Yadav, made similar remarks with even greater passion after India’s victory over Pakistan in the final just two weeks later. Pakistan’s fast bowler Haris Rauf, who conceded 50 runs in his four overs in the final, was also found guilty of unsporting theatrics. He was fined 30 percent of his match fee after mimicking the alleged crash of six Indian fighter jets during the May clashes between the neighbours. Rauf’s gesture quickly went viral.

Advertisement

Ironically, both Yadav and Rauf had poor individual performances in the tournament, but their hypernationalism was displayed with the utmost passion. Perhaps this is how everything works today: Social media theatrics and nonsporting shenanigans prove more effective in keeping players relevant and validated by their fans than actually contributing on the field.

Not only did the Indian team refuse to shake hands with the Pakistanis, they also turned down the opportunity to receive the trophy from Mohsin Naqvi, the president of the Asian Cricket Council (ACC), who is also a federal minister in Pakistan and heads his country’s cricket board. It was a rare sight: a winning team celebrating empty-handed because after India refused to accept the trophy from Naqvi, the ACC took the silverware away from the prize ceremony and did not give it to the winners. Ravi Shastri, a former Indian player and coach and now a prominent commentator, remarked that the situation was “ridiculous”. The whole tournament has been nothing short of jingoistic tomfoolery, and not just on one side. Sport is meant to mend and facilitate diplomacy, not create more divides.

This blurred division between sport and warring foreign policy blotted the image of cricket, a gentleman’s game. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in a tweet from his official X handle, implied that India’s performance was “Operation Sindoor” on the field, where the outcome was the same: India winning. Suhasini Haidar, a prominent Indian journalist, sharply remarked that the prime minister “compares a deadly conflict where both armed forces and civilians were killed … to a cricket match”. This tweet and its analysis serve as an apt representation of the warring environment created throughout the tournament. Equating a game with a grave military clash that claimed lives, caused grief to thousands of families and led to economic losses does not sit well with any sane citizen.

What makes this display even more problematic is the sheer hypocrisy at play. The Board of Control for Cricket in India has for years made a show of refusing to play bilateral cricket with Pakistan, citing political tensions and security concerns. Yet when the stakes are high and sponsors line up with millions of dollars, India and Pakistan are certain to face off in multilateral tournaments, often more than once. Even the Indian masses gradually gave in; what began as a boycott in the first match became a full-on festival by the final. Every eyeball glued to the screen translates into profit, and every viral clip of an on-field provocation fuels engagement. This businesslike militarisation of cricket encourages an environment in which players are rewarded more for jingoistic antics than for cricketing excellence.

Advertisement

On the other side, Pakistan’s players and board have been no saints either. Rauf’s gestures mimicking crashing Indian jets are a prime example of playing to the gallery rather than respecting the spirit of the game. Instead of focusing on their cricket, they too resorted to petty provocations to remain in the headlines. All of this tells the next generation of cricketers that showmanship of nationalism is as important, if not more so, than sporting discipline.

When players perform with a certain hangover influenced by the environment back home, not only does their performance suffer but so does their personal behaviour with rival team members after the game. If two of the most important cricketing nations can behave in such a fashion, it sets a bad precedent for newer countries trying to enter the stage. This cup was literally the opposite of what sport is supposed to represent, creating more tensions and allowing warlike emotions to spill all over the 22 yards.

It would be better for the sport and for the sanity of those who genuinely admire it if the two teams avoided each other altogether, giving fans an opportunity to enjoy the game without the constant intrusion of politics. Cricket deserves better. If those at the top insist on turning every India-Pakistan encounter into a proxy war for profit, then the least they can do is admit it openly. The 2025 Asia Cup will be remembered not for the runs scored or the wickets taken but for the disgrace it brought upon the game. And that, perhaps, is the saddest commentary of all.

It can be argued that banning them until they restore a sense of decency is the only way forward. Why, after all, should Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Afghanistan or even neutral fans worldwide be forced to endure the poisoning of multilateral tournaments by two countries that treat cricket as an extension of conflict and xenophobia? A temporary exclusion of India and Pakistan from international events would send a strong signal that cricket cannot survive if reduced to nationalistic theatre.

Yet such a ban is easier said than done. India is cricket’s financial powerhouse, controlling the International Cricket Council (ICC), and Pakistan remains a crucial draw. Their matches deliver the viewership numbers that keep sponsors invested. No board, least of all the ICC, has the courage to sideline its largest market. The result is a paradox: The very contests that corrode the spirit of cricket are also the ones that pay for its survival. So long as money dictates decisions, cricket will remain hostage to this destructive rivalry.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.