Asia Cup 2025 and the India-Pakistan Fallout

By   Mutunga Tobbias| The Common Pulse/latest news/US/Qatar /Israel/ Kenya/Abroad/Africa / OCTOBER2025. 

The Asia Cup 2025 was meant to be another celebration of cricket across the continent, a tournament that brings together the best of Asia’s talent, uniting fans across borders in their love for the game. Instead, what unfolded in Dubai was a bruising reminder that in South Asia, cricket is never just cricket. It is an arena where national pride collides with political bitterness, and where centuries of rivalry can be re-ignited with every ball bowled. India and Pakistan, two nations tied by history yet separated by a seemingly unbridgeable gulf of suspicion, clashed on the field in a tournament that should have showcased skill and sportsmanship. What emerged was an ugly fallout that left the sport struggling to reclaim its meaning.

The final between India and Pakistan was historic, the first time the two sides had ever met in an Asia Cup decider. Fans packed the Dubai stadium and millions more watched from home, expecting a contest of pure cricket. They got that, but they also witnessed something else, politics invading the pitch, handshakes refused, trophies withheld, and the ghosts of war playing out in a sporting theatre.

The Final on the Field

The match itself was worthy of the stage. Pakistan batted first but failed to seize control, their innings collapsing to 146 all out in just under 20 overs. The architect of their downfall was Kuldeep Yadav, the Indian left-arm spinner whose four wickets broke Pakistan’s backbone and tilted momentum firmly in India’s favor. Even so, India’s chase was far from smooth. At 20 for 3, Pakistani fans sensed an upset, a rare chance to silence their neighbors on the grandest Asian stage. But India’s young star Tilak Varma, calm beyond his years, anchored the innings with an unbeaten 69 off 53 balls. Supported by Shivam Dube in a crucial 60-run partnership, Varma guided India home with just two balls to spare. The cricketing story was clear: India were champions, Pakistan had faltered, and history was made with India lifting the Asia Cup once again.

But the cricketing story was almost immediately overshadowed by what happened, and what did not happen, once the final ball was bowled.

The Ceremony That Never Was

Tradition dictates that winners receive their medals and trophies from dignitaries, a ceremonial act of acknowledgment that transcends sport. In Dubai, that ritual became a flashpoint. The Asian Cricket Council president, Mohsin Naqvi, also Pakistan’s interior minister and the head of the Pakistan Cricket Board, was set to hand over the silverware. For India, that was unacceptable. The Indian players had already refused to shake hands with Pakistani cricketers during the tournament, and in the final their resistance became even more visible. As cameras rolled and the crowd waited, India’s captain and players did not step forward to collect their trophy. Instead, the ceremony was delayed, awkwardly paused, and then effectively cancelled. The champions posed for a mock celebration without the trophy, miming the lift rather than actually holding it aloft.

What should have been a moment of unity and joy became a spectacle of division. Naqvi later declared that the trophy would remain with the ACC office, refusing to deliver it personally. For Indian players, accepting it from a Pakistani minister who also wielded political authority was a compromise too far. What unfolded was unprecedented, an aborted trophy presentation at a continental championship final.

Symbolism and Political Shadows

To understand why this mattered so much, one has to consider the political landscape of 2025. Earlier in the year, India and Pakistan had been engaged in a brief but bloody military confrontation. Borders flared, accusations of aggression filled headlines, and relations hit another bitter low point. In such an environment, every gesture carries symbolic weight. A handshake can be interpreted as endorsement, a photograph as validation, a trophy as complicity.

This is why Indian players chose not to engage in even the most basic gestures of sportsmanship. For them, sport had become inseparable from politics. Pakistan, meanwhile, sought to use cricket as a display of legitimacy and prestige, with its interior minister doubling up as cricket chief. That very duality made Indian resistance inevitable. When politics and sport intertwine so closely, neutrality disappears, and the field becomes another front in an ongoing battle.

Voices of Dissent and Disappointment

The global cricketing community reacted swiftly. AB de Villiers, the South African legend respected worldwide, criticized India’s stand and urged players to keep politics out of cricket. He echoed the feelings of millions who see the sport as one of the last neutral grounds in a divided world. Other commentators bemoaned the death of “cricket diplomacy,” a once-proud tradition that had, in decades past, allowed leaders and citizens of India and Pakistan to find brief moments of unity. Handshakes and cricket tours had been symbolic olive branches. Now, those gestures had collapsed under the weight of hostility.

In Pakistan, the reaction was both defensive and punitive. Officials blasted India’s actions as arrogant and disrespectful. The Pakistan Cricket Board responded with a heavy hand against its own players, punishing stars such as Shaheen Afridi and Haris Rauf by suspending their No Objection Certificates, preventing them from participating in lucrative overseas T20 leagues. This was seen as a way to re-assert authority at home after the humiliation of defeat to India, but it only deepened divisions and discontent within Pakistan cricket.

The Fans and the Fallout

Lost amid the noise of politics and governance are the fans. For ordinary Indians and Pakistanis, cricket is more than a game; it is an emotional lifeline, a collective experience, a source of identity and pride. Yet the Asia Cup final left many of them disillusioned. Instead of savoring Tilak Varma’s brilliance or Kuldeep Yadav’s artistry, they were left debating handshakes and boycotts. For fans outside the subcontinent, the spectacle was equally disappointing, as the sport they loved appeared hijacked by diplomatic hostility.

The fallout also rippled beyond India and Pakistan. Other Asian teams, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, Oman, UAE, and Hong Kong, were reduced to supporting roles in a drama that centered on two giants. Their performances and stories were drowned out by the India-Pakistan saga, further consolidating the narrative that the Asia Cup exists solely as a stage for one rivalry.

Cricket as a Proxy War

The idea of sport as a proxy war is not new. Throughout history, from Cold War hockey to Olympic boycotts, politics has intruded on games. But the Asia Cup 2025 highlighted how, in South Asia, cricket has become the most visible and emotionally charged proxy of all. Every match between India and Pakistan is framed not just as competition but as a test of national will. Victories are cast as proof of superiority, defeats as national embarrassments. The refusal to shake hands, the rejection of a trophy, the punishment of players, these are not mere incidents. They are strategic moves in a larger theater where cricket is a battlefield of ideology, identity, and statecraft.

The Governance Question

The crisis also exposes the weakness of cricket’s governance in Asia. The ACC, led by Naqvi, has blurred lines between sport and politics by allowing active ministers to hold top positions. This dual role made the trophy ceremony inherently political, stripping it of neutrality. India’s refusal, while controversial, was a predictable response to that compromise. The incident has sparked calls for reforms: a clear separation between political office and sporting governance, rules to preserve neutrality in ceremonial acts, and stronger mechanisms to ensure cricket is insulated from state propaganda. Without such changes, every future tournament risks descending into similar chaos.

What This Means for the Rivalry

The India-Pakistan rivalry itself has shifted. Once, Pakistan was considered India’s fiercest opponent, their matches global spectacles that defined eras. Today, many Indian commentators argue that Pakistan is no longer a top cricketing threat, with Australia, England, and South Africa seen as sterner tests. This psychological shift has bred a new kind of disdain: India views Pakistan less as a rival to be respected and more as an adversary to be managed politically. That dynamic explains much of the coldness on display in Dubai.

For Pakistan, this is existential. Their cricketing identity has long relied on being India’s equal. Losing that status, both on the field and in perception, threatens the very foundation of how Pakistani cricket is understood at home. The Asia Cup defeat, followed by the trophy fiasco, has therefore become a national crisis, feeding into narratives of betrayal, humiliation, and victimhood.

The Choice Ahead

What happens next is uncertain, but the crossroads is clear. Cricket in South Asia must decide whether it wants to continue as a weapon in political wars or reclaim its status as a unifier. Restoring handshakes, restoring neutrality, and restoring the joy of the game is possible, but only if boards, players, and fans consciously reject the temptation of turning every act into a political statement.

The Asia Cup 2025 should be remembered for Tilak Varma’s rise, for Kuldeep Yadav’s mastery, for the resilience of teams battling under pressure. Instead, it is remembered for an empty podium, a missing trophy, and the refusal of two nations to even share a ritual of respect. That is the tragedy of this tournament: cricket was played, but it was overshadowed by the refusal to play fair with the spirit of the game.

The fallout from Asia Cup 2025 is already reverberating. Trust between boards has eroded further, players are caught in the crossfire, fans are disillusioned, and cricket’s image as a neutral space has taken a blow. The symbolic power of cricket in South Asia remains unmatched, but so too does its vulnerability to politics.

This was more than a final between two cricketing giants. It was a stark reminder that unless strong steps are taken to insulate sport from politics, every match will become a mirror of hostility rather than a stage of hope. The Asia Cup 2025 will thus be remembered not as a festival of cricket, but as the tournament where the game itself was held hostage to rivalry. And until India and Pakistan find a way to let cricket breathe outside the suffocation of politics, the shadow of Dubai will linger over every encounter they have.