<p>When Abhinav Bindra speaks about sport in India, it is worth listening closely – not merely because he is an Olympic gold medallist, but because he has lived the long, lonely arc of excellence. His recent remarks on India’s near-hysterical response to Lionel Messi’s visit strike at an uncomfortable truth: we are a nation that celebrates sporting stardom far more enthusiastically than sporting systems.</p>.<p>No one disputes Lionel Messi’s greatness. His journey from a frail child in Rosario, battling growth hormone deficiency, to becoming Argentina’s talisman and one of football’s immortals is a story that transcends sport. Bindra himself acknowledged this struggle and triumph. Messi deserves admiration, respect, and even reverence. But what unsettled Bindra – and should unsettle us – is not Messi’s presence in India, but the manner in which we responded to it.</p>.<p>Politicians queued up for photographs. Celebrities jostled for proximity with Messi. Social media erupted with breathless commentary, selfies, and sound bites. The visit became less about football and more about visibility, being seen with greatness rather than investing in it. In a country where grassroots sports infrastructure is starved of resources, this spectacle felt deeply discordant to Bindra.</p>.<p>India’s relationship with sport has long been performative. We love the crescendo of victory, the medal ceremony, the ticker-tape parade. But we are far less patient with the years of anonymity, discipline, and sacrifice that precede success. The shooting range in Dehradun, the wrestling akhara in Haryana, the dusty football field in Manipur – these are not glamorous spaces. They do not attract cameras or hashtags. Yet this is where champions are forged.</p>.<p>The astronomical sums reportedly spent on Messi’s four-city tour raise uncomfortable questions. Could even a fraction of that money have transformed district-level coaching programmes? Could it have upgraded community football grounds, funded sports science support, or ensured nutritional security for young athletes? In a nation of 1.4 billion people, talent is abundant; opportunity is not.</p>.<p>There is also a deeper cultural issue at play. In India, proximity to fame often matters more than contribution to the field itself. A politician or a film star photographed with Messi gains instant social capital. A struggling coach in a government school gains nothing except, perhaps, another year of broken equipment and unpaid allowances. This obsession with reflected glory has infected sport just as it has cinema and politics.</p>.<p>Ironically, Messi himself represents the opposite ethic. His greatness was not manufactured through events or endorsements, but built painstakingly through systems – clubs that invested in youth development, coaches who nurtured talent, and belief in a fragile child when success was uncertain. Argentina did not wait for Messi to become a global icon before backing him. They backed the process.</p>.<p>India, by contrast, often waits for miracles. When a Bindra wins gold or a Neeraj Chopra hurls a javelin into history, we erupt in celebration and move on. The ecosystem that produced them remains fragile, underfunded, and dependent on individual grit rather than institutional strength. We lionise exceptions while ignoring the rule.</p>.<p>This is not an argument against inviting global icons to India — exposure matters. Inspiration matters. Young footballers seeing Messi in the flesh may well dream bigger. But inspiration without infrastructure is cruelty disguised as hope. Bindra’s discomfort should prompt introspection. Are we investing in sport as a spectacle or as a social good? Do we want champions, or merely moments? A serious sporting nation measures success not by the decibels of applause, but by the quiet efficiency of its academies, the competence of its coaches, and the dignity with which it treats its athletes long before they are famous.</p>.<p>India stands at a crossroads. We can continue to be star-struck, or we can build a culture that values perseverance. Messi’s visit will fade into memory, as all events do. What will endure is whether we use that moment to ask hard questions about ourselves.</p>.<p>The glitter of celebrity visits and high-profile optics may satisfy our craving for instant validation, but they do little to strengthen the roots of Indian sport. Real progress demands long-term vision, steady investment, and the humility to work offstage. Otherwise, we will remain a nation applauding shadows on the wall, while the real struggle for sporting excellence continues in near silence. Bindra has done his part by asking. The answer now rests with us.</p><p><em>(The writer is a Delhi-based journalist)</em></p><p>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH</p>
<p>When Abhinav Bindra speaks about sport in India, it is worth listening closely – not merely because he is an Olympic gold medallist, but because he has lived the long, lonely arc of excellence. His recent remarks on India’s near-hysterical response to Lionel Messi’s visit strike at an uncomfortable truth: we are a nation that celebrates sporting stardom far more enthusiastically than sporting systems.</p>.<p>No one disputes Lionel Messi’s greatness. His journey from a frail child in Rosario, battling growth hormone deficiency, to becoming Argentina’s talisman and one of football’s immortals is a story that transcends sport. Bindra himself acknowledged this struggle and triumph. Messi deserves admiration, respect, and even reverence. But what unsettled Bindra – and should unsettle us – is not Messi’s presence in India, but the manner in which we responded to it.</p>.<p>Politicians queued up for photographs. Celebrities jostled for proximity with Messi. Social media erupted with breathless commentary, selfies, and sound bites. The visit became less about football and more about visibility, being seen with greatness rather than investing in it. In a country where grassroots sports infrastructure is starved of resources, this spectacle felt deeply discordant to Bindra.</p>.<p>India’s relationship with sport has long been performative. We love the crescendo of victory, the medal ceremony, the ticker-tape parade. But we are far less patient with the years of anonymity, discipline, and sacrifice that precede success. The shooting range in Dehradun, the wrestling akhara in Haryana, the dusty football field in Manipur – these are not glamorous spaces. They do not attract cameras or hashtags. Yet this is where champions are forged.</p>.<p>The astronomical sums reportedly spent on Messi’s four-city tour raise uncomfortable questions. Could even a fraction of that money have transformed district-level coaching programmes? Could it have upgraded community football grounds, funded sports science support, or ensured nutritional security for young athletes? In a nation of 1.4 billion people, talent is abundant; opportunity is not.</p>.<p>There is also a deeper cultural issue at play. In India, proximity to fame often matters more than contribution to the field itself. A politician or a film star photographed with Messi gains instant social capital. A struggling coach in a government school gains nothing except, perhaps, another year of broken equipment and unpaid allowances. This obsession with reflected glory has infected sport just as it has cinema and politics.</p>.<p>Ironically, Messi himself represents the opposite ethic. His greatness was not manufactured through events or endorsements, but built painstakingly through systems – clubs that invested in youth development, coaches who nurtured talent, and belief in a fragile child when success was uncertain. Argentina did not wait for Messi to become a global icon before backing him. They backed the process.</p>.<p>India, by contrast, often waits for miracles. When a Bindra wins gold or a Neeraj Chopra hurls a javelin into history, we erupt in celebration and move on. The ecosystem that produced them remains fragile, underfunded, and dependent on individual grit rather than institutional strength. We lionise exceptions while ignoring the rule.</p>.<p>This is not an argument against inviting global icons to India — exposure matters. Inspiration matters. Young footballers seeing Messi in the flesh may well dream bigger. But inspiration without infrastructure is cruelty disguised as hope. Bindra’s discomfort should prompt introspection. Are we investing in sport as a spectacle or as a social good? Do we want champions, or merely moments? A serious sporting nation measures success not by the decibels of applause, but by the quiet efficiency of its academies, the competence of its coaches, and the dignity with which it treats its athletes long before they are famous.</p>.<p>India stands at a crossroads. We can continue to be star-struck, or we can build a culture that values perseverance. Messi’s visit will fade into memory, as all events do. What will endure is whether we use that moment to ask hard questions about ourselves.</p>.<p>The glitter of celebrity visits and high-profile optics may satisfy our craving for instant validation, but they do little to strengthen the roots of Indian sport. Real progress demands long-term vision, steady investment, and the humility to work offstage. Otherwise, we will remain a nation applauding shadows on the wall, while the real struggle for sporting excellence continues in near silence. Bindra has done his part by asking. The answer now rests with us.</p><p><em>(The writer is a Delhi-based journalist)</em></p><p>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH</p>
