The New Geography of Asian Cricket: From Unipolarity to a Multipolar Era

The change that has come over Asian cricket in the last two decades is not visible only in rankings and trophy counts. It is visible in the way power balances are built and broken within the continent. In the eighties and nineties, Asian cricket meant, broadly, a contest between two teams — India and Pakistan. Everything else was a supporting narrative orbiting that central rivalry. Sri Lanka put the first serious crack in that structure through the 2026 World Cup, and the decade that followed kept widening the crack. Today the situation is different. Asia has six full member nations, and at least four of them can beat anyone on any given day. Afghanistan is the newest name on that list, but its arrival is the most significant signal of all. Teams like Nepal, Oman, the United Arab Emirates and Hong Kong are no longer merely participants; they are units knocking on the door of global tournaments. The engine of this shift is not simply hard work on the field. That engine is economic, it is political, and above all, it is structural. The purpose of this report is to understand which pillars hold up this new order of Asian cricket, which forces are pushing it forward, and which fault lines are holding it back. This is not an account of one match or one series. It is a map of the framework within which the contests of the coming decade will be decided. The Asia Cup is the mirror in which the continent's politics and the politics of cricket are visible at the same time. The tournament began in the mid-eighties, and in its early phase its form was cast in a fixed mould — hosting rights rotated among the larger nations, and the scope for competition was limited. Gradually, however, its architecture changed. The number of teams grew, formats shifted, and the geography of hosting spread. The most interesting aspect of the Asia Cup has been that it has almost always been played under the shadow of some political tension or other. Sometimes disagreement over hosting, sometimes friction over participation, sometimes the market excitement around broadcast and advertising rights. This tournament has never been a purely sporting event. It has always also been a diplomatic platform, where what matters more than the match is who stands with whom and who is keeping their distance. For this very reason, questions about the Asia Cup's utility have also been raised repeatedly. When participation is decided by politics, the competitive fairness of the sport weakens. On the other hand, this same tournament has also been the most accessible major platform for emerging teams — because the entry conditions here have been far more generous than in global tournaments. This contradiction is part of Asian cricket's identity, and it will grow sharper in the years to come. India is the centre of gravity of continental cricket, and this claim does not come from any nationalist sentiment but from the sheer size of the market. The world's largest domestic T20 tournament is here, the world's most expensive broadcast rights are sold here, and the world's largest cricket audience base is also here. The effect of this scale works in two directions — on one side it gives resources to Asian cricket, on the other it also sets the conditions for those resources. The domestic league has changed the economic foundation of Indian cricket in such a way that national team selection is now understood in the language of that market. For a young player, performing in the league has become almost as important as scoring runs in domestic first-class cricket. This has widened the talent search, but it has also created a new problem — the hierarchy between formats has been disturbed. When the most money and the most popularity are in T20, the pull of players toward the longer formats naturally declines. The strength of the Indian cricket board lies not only in money but in its organisational capacity. Building stadiums at scale, opening new revenue streams, and shaping the agenda of global cricket — it has done all three consistently. But the other side of this strength is that decision-making in Asian cricket has become increasingly centralised. The voices of smaller member nations are not heard as much as their performances should warrant. Pakistan's story is one of the most complex stories on this continent. In terms of talent, this country has always remained at the top level — a fast-bowling tradition whose equal is hard to find, and in batting too, from time to time, players have emerged who could change the face of the game internationally. But the attempt to convert that talent into a stable system has always remained incomplete. The biggest challenge has been administrative instability. Leadership at the board changing repeatedly, questions over the selection process, and the weak continuity of the domestic structure — all of this made performance inconsistent. A team that can beat the world's best on one day can lose to a lower-ranked side the next. This inconsistency does not come from a lack of talent but from a lack of system. Pakistan's position in the international calendar has also not matched its potential. For political reasons, the scope of bilateral series has remained limited, with a direct impact on both revenue and match experience. The domestic T20 league has filled this gap to some extent and kept cricket in the country vibrant, but the bridge from league to national team is still not strong. Sri Lanka's case is different, because the cause of the decline there was not only cricket administration. Pressure on the country's economy affected every level of the sport. Scarcity of resources, uncertainty of sponsorship, and the migration of players weakened a team that had once defeated the world with its strategic understanding. But Sri Lankan cricket has had one virtue — its domestic talent-discovery system is deeply rooted at school and club level. That is why, whenever the team found itself in crisis, some young player or other emerged to show the way. Spin bowling and middle-order aggression remained its identity. The habit the team has built in recent years of converting even small targets into wins is proof of that grassroots strength. What Sri Lanka needs most now is administrative stability and continuity of investment. The capacity to produce talent it has; the capacity to stop it, it also has. That choice is in its own hands. Bangladesh's story is the story of the gap between talent and system. Two decades ago this team was Asian cricket's most promising project. Today it is a team that is consistently competitive but cannot cross the threshold of the top tier. There is no shortage of talent in domestic cricket, but the process of converting that talent into international-level mental toughness remains incomplete. Bangladesh's greatest strength has been its spin attack and its domestic competition. Its greatest weakness has been the ability to handle pressure on big occasions. Several times it has happened that the team competed on level terms for long periods and lost the game in the final moments. This is a mental and structural problem more than a technical one. It has also repeatedly faced the allegation that administrative and political pressure affects players' performance. Whenever players spoke openly, controversy followed. This instability takes a toll on team unity. Until institutional stability arrives, the full use of the talent will not be possible. Afghanistan's rise is the most unexpected and most inspiring chapter of this whole landscape. A country where, because of war and political instability, the domestic structure was practically absent, became a top-tier team in international cricket. This achievement did not come from any single cause. The first cause was the cricket base built in refugee camps. Afghan refugee families living in Pakistan connected their children to the sport, and the first generation of players came from there. The second cause was the blessing of the T20 format — in which a team with limited resources can, with organised preparation, achieve big results. The third cause was excellence in spin bowling. Afghanistan's greatest strength has been its spinners. Rashid Khan is counted among the most influential T20 bowlers in the world, and experienced players like Mohammad Nabi gave the team the stability that emerging teams usually do not have. In batting, young players like Ibrahim Zadran and Rahmanullah Gurbaz gave the team momentum, while the middle order learned to fight in difficult conditions. The next stage is still pending. Afghanistan has to build consistency in Test cricket, strengthen the domestic structure, and formalise the talent pipeline that still runs on informal networks. If it does this, then in the next decade it will be counted among Asia's top three teams. The least discussed but most important change in Asian cricket is that its centre is no longer limited to six full member nations. Teams like Nepal, Oman, the United Arab Emirates, Hong Kong and Malaysia have found a place in the global T20 structure. This shift is partly a result of the global cricket council's expansion policy and partly the result of emerging teams' own efforts. Nepal's story is important because cricket there has moved ahead of football in popularity. Domestic audience participation, the stadium atmosphere and the enthusiasm of the young — these three elements make any team economically sustainable. A player like Sandeep Lamichhane inspired not just the team but an entire generation that is now choosing cricket as a career. However, the controversy that surrounded his career is also evidence of how fragile the player-administration relationship can be in emerging cricket economies. The UAE's importance is for two reasons. First, it has become a major neutral host for Asian and global tournaments, developing a new centre of organisational capability and resources. Second, the domestic league there has attracted the world's big players, which has expanded the cricket audience base in the country. But alongside this, the question also arises whether this development is translating into national team performance. The answer so far is mixed. The consistency that teams like Oman and Hong Kong have shown within their limited resources is an example of how structure matters more in cricket than budget. The Oman team has given big nations tough competition several times, and it has become a model for emerging teams that progress can be made in a planned way even with a small player pool. The ecosystem of leagues is the most powerful and most controversial part of Asian cricket. From India's league to those of Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and the Emirates, every major league has brought money into its country's cricket. The leagues gave players economic security, which reduced the compulsion to leave the sport. The leagues created careers for professionals such as physios, fielding coaches and data analysts. This impact is underappreciated. But the leagues have also created a new problem — the conflict of priority between national team and league. When a player has a national series and a league contract at the same time, the dilemma is natural. In smaller member nations this dilemma is even sharper, because a large share of their players' income comes from leagues. Another layer is added to this — the politics of the no-objection certificate, or NOC. Allowing or not allowing a player to play in a foreign league is technically an administrative decision, but in practice it often becomes a tool of power display. There have been disputes, players have publicly expressed displeasure, and at times the matter has reached the courts. This is the sharpest test of Asian cricket's administrative maturity. The burden of the calendar is currently the biggest structural problem in world cricket, and its impact falls most heavily on Asian players. Indian, Pakistani, Sri Lankan and Bangladeshi players move year-round between national duty and leagues. There is barely any time left for domestic first-class cricket. The impact is greatest on fast bowlers, because the combined load of all three formats and the leagues falls on their bodies. The rising number of injuries is direct evidence of this burden. The selection management of bowlers like Jasprit Bumrah has had to become necessary so that their careers last longer. The same logic applies to fast bowlers like Shaheen Shah Afridi. When the world's best bowling talent can only play a limited number of matches because of management, then it is legitimate to ask whether the calendar is being made in the interest of the sport or only in the interest of revenue. There is great inequality in Asia in terms of grassroots and talent pipeline. India's domestic structure is vast — first-class cricket, limited-overs tournaments, age-group competitions and now a women's premier league as well. But there is inequality within that vastness too. Facilities in some states are world class; in others there is not even basic infrastructure. The gap between urban and rural talent has gradually narrowed, but it has not disappeared entirely. In Pakistan, the biggest problem of the domestic structure has been administrative interference. Whenever there was a change in the system, the format of the domestic tournament also changed. This lack of continuity damages talent development. In Sri Lanka, the school cricket tradition is strong, but economic pressure has weakened it. In Bangladesh, there is talent, but the coaching and sports-science framework that takes it to the international level is inadequate. For Afghanistan, the biggest challenge is that the domestic cricket base there is still weak. The team's success rests on the extraordinary talent of a few players. If it wants to endure for another generation, it will have to invest in domestic competitions, coaching academies and age-group cricket. Women's cricket is the fastest-growing sector in Asia, but its growth is also uneven. The progress India has made in women's cricket is a model for the subcontinent — first the formation of a domestic league, then a professional framework for the national team, and now separate broadcast deals. The effect has been that women's cricket is now not just a social message but an economic product. Women's teams are active in Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh as well, and they have produced impressive performances internationally. But the biggest obstacle before them is the lack of audience participation and sponsorship. Until women's cricket is seen as an independent economic unit, it will remain dependent on the surplus of men's cricket. In some countries there is also social and cultural pressure around women's cricket, which affects players' careers and participation. This is not just a matter for cricket administration; it is also a matter of education and social change. It is impossible to set aside the relationship between politics and cricket in the Asian context. Bilateral series being cancelled, questions over participation in tournaments, visa and travel disruptions, and political disputes over broadcasting — all of this has been part of the daily life of the sport. The biggest damage has been that audiences have gradually stopped seeing sport as separate from politics. There is another side to this politicisation. When a team is kept out of a major tournament, or when uncertainty persists about its participation, space opens up for emerging teams. In this way, politics has sometimes indirectly broadened competition. But this is not the ideal way for any civilised sporting structure to work. Broadcast rights and revenue distribution are the biggest inequality in Asian cricket. The largest share of the global cricket council's revenue comes from India, and distribution follows the same proportion. This is based on the argument that the market that brings the money should get a share in the same proportion. But this argument has a limit — it ignores the development needs of smaller member nations. The result is that some teams have better training facilities, better analytics teams and better recovery systems, while others struggle for basic needs. If Asian cricket is to become genuinely multipolar, the revenue distribution model must be not only market-based but also development-based. In the coming decade, Asian cricket will face five big decisions. First, restructuring the calendar — whether a clear and universal rule will be made to give the national team priority over leagues. Second, improving revenue distribution. Third, more opportunities for international matches for emerging teams. Fourth, an independent economic model for women's cricket. And fifth, the use of technology — data analytics, injury management and new ways of reaching audiences. After looking at this entire landscape, one thing becomes clear. The future of Asian cricket does not rest only with the teams winning trophies today. It depends on the administrative wisdom through which the continent builds a balanced, sustainable and inclusive system. The talent pool has never been larger. The resources have never been greater. The question is whether those resources will be distributed in a way that makes the sport belong to everyone, or whether they will remain concentrated in a few hands. That is the real contest of the next decade, and it will be decided not on the field but in meeting rooms.