When Hope Was All I Had: Two Decades as an Indian Football Fan
I was thirteen when I became a football fan.
It was the summer of 2006. The World Cup was on. Zidane was a magician. Buffon was a wall. Cannavaro lifted the trophy. Everyone in school picked a side — Brazil, Germany, Argentina.
I picked India.
They laughed.
“India doesn’t even qualify.”
Exactly.
That was the point. I wasn’t chasing trophies. I was chasing something to believe in. I wanted a team to call mine, not because it was the best — but because nobody else cared. I didn’t know it then, but I was becoming an Indian football fan for life.
From Quiet Loyalty to Fleeting Glory
Back then, supporting the Indian football team felt like a quiet rebellion. Hardly anyone followed it. I used to hunt down pixelated I-League highlights. I followed Baichung Bhutia like he was a household name. And when Chhetri came along, it felt like we had someone who actually cared — someone worth believing in.
Meanwhile, my friends wore Messi and Kaka jerseys. I had a plain blue kit. No name. Just hope.
Occasionally, there were moments of joy. The Nehru Cup wins. The 2008 AFC Challenge Cup. And then, the 2011 AFC Asian Cup. We lost all our games, sure — but we were there. On the same pitch as Australia and South Korea. For a fan like me, that was enough.
However, that joy didn’t last long.
The Long Dip into Disillusionment
By 2015, India had slipped to 173rd in the FIFA rankings. That low was hard to digest. Even smaller nations with barely functioning leagues were doing better. It wasn’t just disappointing — it was embarrassing.
The 2018 World Cup qualifiers followed the same tired script. Poor planning, tactical confusion, and very little fight. Eventually, we were out before we even had time to hope.
Even so, I kept watching.
Because that’s what being an Indian football fan teaches you. You learn how to lose. You learn how to care through silence. You keep going even when nothing changes.
Then came 2019 — and for once, things felt different.
Thailand, Vietnam, and One Magical Night
I watched the 2019 AFC Asian Cup opener against Thailand from my girlfriend’s place in Vietnam.
To be honest, I was prepared for a draw — maybe even a narrow loss.
Instead, we bulldozed them. 4–1. Chhetri was everywhere. The team pressed, ran, passed — we looked like we belonged. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just hopeful. I was proud.
But football doesn’t care about feelings. We lost to UAE. And then came the Bahrain match. We held on for 90 minutes. All we needed was a point. But we conceded a last-minute penalty. Knocked out. Just like that.
Still, it felt like progress.
2023: When Promise Turned to Dust
By the time the 2023 AFC Asian Cup came around (played in early 2024), I felt cautiously optimistic. We had a better squad. More experience. A manager who seemed competent. And, of course, Chhetri.
Sadly, it was a repeat of all our worst patterns:
- 0–2 vs Australia
- 0–3 vs Uzbekistan
- 0–1 vs Syria
Three matches. No points. No goals.
More than the losses, it was the lack of fight that hurt. We didn’t play like a team trying to break out of mediocrity. We played like a team resigned to it.
2026 World Cup Qualifiers: Same Story, New Names
When the 2026 World Cup qualifiers began, I let myself believe again. The group wasn’t impossible: Kuwait, Afghanistan, and Qatar.
We started strong with a 1–0 win away in Kuwait. But after that, the story unfolded exactly how you’d expect.
- A 0–0 draw with Afghanistan
- A 1–2 loss in the return leg
- Another 0–0 at home against Kuwait
- And then the final heartbreak — a 1–2 loss to Qatar after leading 1–0 away
That one hurt more than most. Because it wasn’t just failure — it was collapse. Again.
As an Indian football fan, you start to wonder if it’s you. If you’re the only one still taking this seriously.
The Real Problem No One Talks About
Let’s be honest. The leadership isn’t helping.
Under Kalyan Chaubey, AIFF has turned into a PR factory. There are press conferences and photo ops, but very little substance. Development plans are vague, and progress is more illusion than reality.
Take Vision 2047, for example. It sounds grand — a 25-year blueprint for Indian football. But when you can’t fix your grassroots systems or put together a stable calendar, how can you think 25 years ahead? These glossy documents mean nothing when the foundation is already cracked.
Moreover, at the state level, things are worse. Corruption runs deep. Talented kids get overlooked because of politics. Tournaments are mishandled. Coaches are picked through favoritism. As a result, even promising players lose motivation early.
Meanwhile, the top-tier players are comfortable. ISL pays well. The media hypes mediocrity. And hardly anyone wants to test themselves abroad. Ambition? It’s in short supply.
In contrast, look at Uzbekistan and Jordan — two teams that have now qualified for the 2026 FIFA World Cup. Jordan took down South Korea in the Asian Cup. Uzbekistan looked like they’d been playing at the top for years.
They didn’t get there by luck. They got there with structure, hunger, and belief.
And Then… It Got Even Worse
After we crashed out, we still had to endure a few more hits:
- A 0–0 draw against Bangladesh
- A 0–2 loss to Thailand
- A 0–1 defeat to Hong Kong, even though we dominated for most of the game
Bhaichung Bhutia called for sweeping changes. Bengaluru FC’s Parth Jindal openly said this was Indian football’s lowest point. And to be honest, I agreed.
Even so, I watched every minute.
Why I’m Still Here
Sometimes I ask myself: Why?
Why am I still watching this team, still defending it, still refreshing lineups before every match?
Because I’m still that thirteen-year-old kid who picked India when everyone else picked Brazil. Because somewhere deep down, I still believe this team can get there — even if it takes forever.
I know things need to change — and fast. But giving up now feels like turning my back on every version of myself who stuck through it all.
Loyalty isn’t logical. It’s emotional.
For the Ones Who Never Switched Teams
If India ever qualifies for a World Cup, it won’t just be about football.
It’ll be for every Indian football fan who never stopped showing up. Who stayed through the 0–0s. Who knew all the players’ names even when no one else did. Who held on when there was no logical reason to.
It’ll be for those of us who stuck around, even when hope was all we had.
And maybe — just maybe — one day, it’ll be worth it.