In January 2024, as India walked off the pitch after a third straight group-stage defeat, 1-0 against Syria at the AFC Asian Cup, the question wasn't just about the result – it was about resonance. Very few back home were watching. The matches came and went with little public reaction, and the goals scored against us drifted past like headlines we’d already grown tired of reading.

For a tournament once considered the pinnacle of Asian football, the Asian Cup has struggled to retain its urgency in some corners of the continent. But is that a sign of the competition’s waning importance – or more a reflection of the country’s own uneasy relationship with the sport?

The Asian Cup: Between expansion and erosion

The Asian Cup, much like Asia itself, is difficult to generalise. In the Gulf states, East Asia, and parts of Southeast Asia, it still commands serious attention – both political and popular. You only have to look at the buzz around a Japan versus South Korea fixture, or even a group-stage clash involving Iran or Saudi Arabia, to realise that the tournament still matters. These aren’t just football matches, they’re geopolitical statements, contests layered with regional memory and national identity.

Meanwhile, in Australia, the Asian Cup is being actively reshaped. The country is pushing for gender parity and expanding the reach of the women’s edition, set to be the biggest ever in 2026. Equal prize money, better visibility, and government backing all signal that the competition still holds institutional weight.

But not everything is moving forward. Quiet but worrying shifts in the AFC’s anti-corruption code have raised concerns among member nations. Recent rollbacks on reforms, as reported in Australian media, have led to fears about transparency—especially as countries like South Korea and Qatar eye hosting rights for future editions. For a tournament that aspires to modernise and appeal to younger audiences, administrative credibility will be just as important as the quality of football.

And yet, in a region as fragmented and politically diverse as Asia, the very act of competing on neutral ground – under shared rules – is an achievement. It’s a rare space for dialogue, rivalry, and assertion without bullets or borders. The tournament's relevance, then, might not lie in spectacle alone, but in structure.

India: Glimpses of promise, long periods of silence

India’s relationship with the Asian Cup has always been tenuous. A runner-up finish in 1964 remains our best showing – a four-team round-robin in which we played three matches and won just one. Since then, India has qualified only four more times: in 1984, 2011, 2019, and most recently, 2023. None of those campaigns saw us reach the knockout stages.

The 2019 edition gave us a moment of hope. A 4-1 win against Thailand broke a 55-year winless streak at the tournament and seemed to herald a new chapter under captain Sunil Chhetri and head coach Stephen Constantine. But a narrow loss to Bahrain sent India crashing out in the group stage – another chapter closed too soon.

India’s 2024 campaign in Qatar felt like déjà vu. India failed to score a single goal, while conceding a total of 6 across three matches against Australia, Uzbekistan, and Syria. The defence was porous, the attack blunt, and the energy short-lived.

But these aren’t just performance issues – they’re symptoms of deeper structural rot. India still lacks a robust grassroots pipeline. Most state associations remain inert, domestic youth scouting is inconsistent at best, and the coaching ecosystem suffers from both underinvestment and over-politicisation. While the Indian Super League (ISL) has brought in marketing flair and higher pay checks, it hasn’t translated into consistent talent development or international competitiveness. A handful of private academies and football-centric schools can’t carry the load alone.

The national team, often brought together hurriedly before a tournament, is left to stitch together chemistry in a matter of weeks. The result is predictable: disconnected play, low morale, and reliance on aging stalwarts rather than fresh legs.

So, is the Asian Cup losing relevance?

Not really. In fact, the tournament appears to be becoming more layered, not less. The expansion of the women's game, the emergence of mid-tier nations capable of challenging the traditional powers, and the high-stakes competition to host future editions all suggest a tournament in transition – not in decline.

But for countries like India, the real risk isn’t that the Asian Cup is becoming irrelevant – it’s that we’re becoming irrelevant to it.

Until Indian football starts treating the Asian Cup not as an exotic four-year festival but as a barometer of real progress, the distance between aspiration and achievement will only grow. And until our footballing infrastructure reflects long-term commitment instead of short-term optics, performances like the one in Qatar will remain the norm.

There’s no shortcut to mattering in a tournament like this. You earn it – slowly, painfully, and over years of institutional patience and public belief. The Asian Cup may still be alive and well. The question is whether Indian football is ready to meet it on equal terms.

Samarth Kochhar is an editorial intern at The Wire.

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