Eight bronze and two silver medals offer encouragement, but the Asian Games expose a familiar failure — Pakistan still invests too little, too late and too selectively in its athletes
By
Asher Butt
Pakistan's Asian Games
campaign has ended with 10 medals — two
silver and eight bronze. On the surface, it is a result worthy of
celebration. After winning only three medals at the previous Asian Games, the
jump to double figures represents a significant improvement and provides a
welcome reminder that Pakistani athletes are still capable of competing
successfully at the highest level in Asia.
But if the celebrations
stop at the medal tally, Pakistan will once again miss the bigger story.
The 2026 Asian Games have
not merely produced medals for Pakistan. They have exposed, once again, both the potential of the country's athletes
and the weaknesses of the system responsible for preparing them.
The athletes have done
their part. The question is whether the institutions will do theirs.
Pakistan returned with two silver medals — in men's cricket and
men's squash team — and eight bronze medals, with podium finishes also
coming from women's cricket, men's hockey, men's volleyball, squash singles,
PUBG Mobile esports, modern MMA and shooting.
That spread is
particularly significant. It demonstrates that Pakistan's sporting talent is no
longer confined to one or two traditional disciplines. Cricket and squash
continue to deliver, but hockey, volleyball, shooting, combat sports and even
esports have shown that Pakistan has a much wider sporting base than its
international reputation suggests. And therein lies the opportunity.
Ten
medals should not hide the uncomfortable reality. The
most important question arising from these Games is not why Pakistan won 10
medals.
It is: Why did Pakistan win only 10?
According to the figures
provided by the Pakistan Sports Board, only 95 athletes and officials were sponsored by the PSB, while the
overall Pakistani contingent was around 240.
The remaining athletes participated through the Pakistan Olympic Association,
their respective federations or on a self-financed basis. This should concern
every policymaker responsible for sport. Are the policymakers too self-financing
their (official) trips?
Imagine asking an athlete
to compete against the best in Asia while simultaneously telling him or her
that the state cannot fully finance the journey. The contradiction is glaring.
Pakistan wants medals,
international recognition and podium finishes, yet a significant portion of its
athletes apparently have to find their own resources simply to reach the
competition.
That is not a sustainable
high-performance model. And it raises another uncomfortable question: how many potential medallists never made it
to the Asian Games because they could not afford to?
There is no way to
calculate that immediately. But the possibility cannot simply be ignored. The athletes have proved that talent is not
the problem.
Perhaps the most
encouraging aspect of Pakistan's campaign is that the medal-winning
performances have come from different sports.
The men's cricket team
reached the final and secured silver after finishing runners-up to India. The
women's team added bronze after defeating Bangladesh in the third-place
playoff. With the backing and the facilities the cricket team has, silver is
not an acceptable result and they should have been on top of the podium wearing
gold.
The men's squash team won
silver, while Pakistani players also secured two bronze medals in singles.
Hockey returned to the
podium, ending a long wait for an Asian Games medal. Volleyball produced a
historic bronze, a reminder of the potential that exists outside Pakistan's
traditional sporting priorities.
Pakistan's campaign at the
Asian Games suffered another significant setback when the national kabaddi team
crashed out following a shock defeat to Thailand, one of the biggest upsets of
the competition. The result was particularly painful given Pakistan's rich
history in the sport and its status as one of Asia's traditional kabaddi
powerhouses. Expectations had been high for a deep run in the tournament,
making the unexpected exit all the more difficult for players, officials and
supporters to accept.
The disappointment in
kabaddi also reflected a broader pattern that emerged during Pakistan's overall
performance at the Games. Outside a handful of events, the country struggled to
challenge for podium places against stronger and better-prepared rivals from
across the continent. Several teams and athletes fell short of expectations,
raising renewed questions about planning, preparation and long-term development
structures within national sports federations.
Athletics, often regarded
as one of the most important indicators of a country's sporting progress,
offered little encouragement beyond the participation of Olympic javelin
champion Arshad Nadeem. None of the athletes selected by the Athletics
Federation of Pakistan managed to mount a serious challenge for a medal,
underlining the lack of depth within the country's track and field programme.
Even Arshad, who has
carried Pakistan's medal hopes almost single-handedly in recent years, was
unable to reach the podium. The star thrower finished fourth in the javelin
event with a best effort of 80.29 metres. While the throw marked his first time
crossing the 80-metre barrier this season, it was well below the standards that
established him as one of the world's leading javelin athletes and the reigning
Olympic champion.
Arshad's recent
performances have become a subject of growing discussion among sporting
observers. After setting new benchmarks for Pakistan athletics and delivering
historic international success, his inability to reach previous levels has
prompted questions that require careful technical and performance-based
evaluation. Coaches and experts will likely examine factors ranging from
training cycles and fitness management to competition schedules and recovery
programmes.
More importantly,
Pakistan's reliance on a single athlete continues to highlight a major concern
for the future. The absence of other genuine medal contenders in athletics
suggests a weakness in talent identification, athlete development and
high-performance pathways. For a nation of more than 240 million people, the
inability to consistently produce world-class competitors across multiple
disciplines remains a troubling reality.
Pakistan fielded four boxers (two men and two women) at
the Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games, but none managed to reach the medal rounds. The
absence of a boxing medal was another setback for a sport that has historically
produced competitive performers at regional and international levels.
From an analytical
perspective, boxing's failure to deliver a podium finish is particularly
concerning because it is traditionally considered one of the sports where
Pakistan can realistically target medals with proper investment, exposure and
coaching. Unlike athletics, where Pakistan's hopes were largely concentrated on
Arshad Nadeem, boxing offers multiple weight categories and therefore multiple
medal opportunities. Yet Pakistan was unable to capitalize on that potential.
Shooting contributed a
bronze. So did MMA. And the PUBG Mobile team won a historic esports bronze,
underlining a completely new dimension of competitive sport. These are not
insignificant achievements.
The volleyball medal, in
particular, should provoke serious thinking. A sport that has often existed in
the shadow of cricket and hockey has demonstrated that Pakistan can compete
internationally when athletes are given an opportunity to develop.
The same applies to MMA
and esports.
The lesson is simple: Pakistan does not have a shortage of sporting
talent. It has a shortage of a properly structured sporting system.
Hockey's return to the podium deserves
special attention. The men's hockey bronze is perhaps one
of the most emotionally significant achievements of the campaign. For years,
Pakistani hockey has lived on its glorious past. The green shirts that once
frightened the world gradually became a team struggling to maintain even its
place among Asia's elite.
The Asian Games podium now
provides a small but important sign that the decline can perhaps be arrested. But
this bronze should not become another excuse for celebration without reform.
Pakistan hockey needs
regular international competition, properly prepared domestic structures,
scientific training, modern coaching, sports medicine, nutrition, fitness
programmes and financial stability.
One medal cannot revive a
sport. A system can.
If the authorities use
this result merely for ceremonial photographs and press releases, the
opportunity will be wasted.
Volleyball
has sent perhaps the loudest warning to policymakers. Pakistan's
volleyball bronze is more than another number on the medal table.
It is evidence that
disciplines outside cricket can produce international results.
For decades, Pakistani
sport has suffered from an unhealthy concentration of attention, resources and
media space around cricket.
Cricket's popularity is
not the problem. The problem begins when the success of one sport becomes an
excuse for neglecting dozens of others.
Volleyball has now
provided an answer to those who argue that Pakistan cannot produce elite
athletes in other disciplines.
Give athletes proper
coaching.
Give them camps.
Give them international
exposure.
Give them equipment.
Give them sports science.
Give them competition.
Then judge them on
performance.
The
biggest weakness remains preparation.
Pakistan cannot expect
athletes to assemble shortly before a major event, train for a limited period
and then defeat opponents who have been part of four-year high-performance
programmes.
Asian
Games medals are not won at the Asian Games. They are won in the years
preceding them. This is where the Pakistan Sports Board,
Pakistan Olympic Association and national federations need to rethink their
approach.
Camps must be arranged well in advance, not merely when an
international event approaches. Athletes need long-term periodised training
programmes.
They need strength and
conditioning coaches, physiotherapists, nutritionists, psychologists, recovery
specialists and access to quality competition. They need regular international
exposure against stronger opponents. And, most importantly, they need
continuity.
A talented athlete should
not have to wait for an Asian Games, Commonwealth Games or Olympics to discover
whether the state is willing to support him.
Merit
must be the foundation. Another crucial issue is athlete
selection.
If Pakistan genuinely
wants to become a serious sporting nation, selection must be based on transparent, measurable and
performance-oriented criteria.
No athlete should be
selected because of connections.
No athlete should be
excluded because of a federation's internal politics.
No place in a national
camp should be treated as a favour.
And financial
circumstances should not determine who gets the opportunity to represent
Pakistan.
If an athlete is good
enough to qualify on merit but cannot afford the cost of training or travel,
the state should step in.
Otherwise, Pakistan risks
creating a system where the son or
daughter of a financially comfortable family gets the opportunity while an
equally talented athlete from a poor background remains invisible.
That is not meritocracy.
Self-financing
cannot become the new normal. The fact that around 240 people formed
the Pakistani contingent but only 95 athletes and officials were sponsored by
the PSB deserves a serious institutional review.
Self-financing may
sometimes be unavoidable, but it cannot become a substitute for national sports
policy. Representing Pakistan is not an ordinary private trip.
An athlete wearing the
national colours is carrying the country's name, flag and reputation. If the
country expects that athlete to win a medal, it must first provide the
conditions under which winning one becomes realistically possible.
Ten
medals are a beginning — not an excuse. There is every reason to
congratulate the athletes. They deserve recognition.
They competed under
pressure, overcame limited resources and still managed to put Pakistan on the
podium 10 times. Their performances should be celebrated loudly.
But the athletes
themselves should also be the first to demand more from the system.
Because the medal tally
could have been bigger.
Perhaps significantly
bigger.
The real test begins now.
Will Pakistan use these
Games to establish a four-year
high-performance strategy, or will the medals disappear into the
archives until the next Asian Games?
Will the PSB identify
sports with realistic medal potential and provide them continuous funding?
Will federations be held
accountable for performance and financial management?
Will camps begin months
and years before major events?
Will athletes receive
scientific training and international exposure?
Will selection be
genuinely merit-based?
And will the state invest
in promising youngsters before they become champions rather than waiting until
after they win medals?
These are the questions
that matter.
From
medals to a sporting revolution. Pakistan does not need to
become a sporting superpower overnight.
It needs to become consistent.
If a volleyball team can
win a historic medal, support volleyball.
If shooters can reach the
podium, invest in shooting.
If squash continues to
deliver, develop the next generation.
If hockey shows signs of
recovery, build a sustainable structure around it.
If MMA and esports can
produce international results, bring them into a modern national sports
strategy.
And if cricket continues
to dominate public attention, use its commercial strength to help create
opportunities for other sports rather than allowing the entire sporting
ecosystem to revolve around one game.
The 2026 Asian Games have
given Pakistan something more valuable than 10 medals.
They have given the
country evidence.
Evidence that talent
exists.
Evidence that athletes can
compete.
Evidence that neglected
sports can produce results.
And evidence that
Pakistan's sporting ceiling is probably much higher than its current medal
tally suggests.
The danger now is that
officials will celebrate the eight
bronze and two silver medals, issue congratulatory statements and move
on.
The opportunity is to ask
why the country that produced those 10 medals could not produce 15, 20 or more.
Pakistan's
athletes have delivered the message from Japan. The question now is whether
Pakistan's sports administrators are prepared to listen.
The medals should be
celebrated.
But
they should also be treated as a warning — and a challenge.
Because if Pakistan can
win 10 medals while only a fraction of its contingent receives state
sponsorship, the country's biggest sporting achievement may not have happened
yet.
