All Shine, No Spine: Why Indian Football is built for business, not growth-OxBig News Network

At the heart of Indian football’s stagnation lies its franchise-based model, a structure that effectively slams the door on promotion and relegation—the very lifeblood of competitive football across the globe. In most countries, performance dictates progress. In India, it’s the size of the cheque that matters.

Clubs like Dempo FC, one of the most decorated football teams in Indian history, and even the current I-League champions, Churchill Brothers, who once rose to the top through merit, now find themselves locked out of the top tier, regardless of how well they perform. The Indian Super League, now the top tier of football in the country, offers no path upward for those outside its closed gates, only a pay-to-play option.

Ranjit Bajaj, whose Minerva Academy has long focused on grassroots and youth development, articulates the frustration shared by many: “You’re telling me that I have to spend Rs 100 crore, and even if I win everything, I still can’t go to the ISL? Why would I waste that money?” It’s not just rhetorical—it’s the reality faced by clubs operating outside the ISL bubble.

With the promotion and demotion system gone, how does a team play top tier football (ISL), in India?

Simple – buy your way into it.

The case of Mohammedan Sporting Club illustrates this broken model. After years of rebuilding and on-field success, the iconic Kolkata club finally entered the ISL in the 2024–25 season. But they didn’t earn their place—they bought it, paying a franchise fee of Rs 12 crore. When you factor in the inflated player salaries, infrastructure investments, and staff costs, the financial burden becomes daunting for clubs that are not corporate-owned. And still, there’s no guarantee of sustainability or return.

In Europe, the story unfolds very differently. Leeds United, upon promotion to the Premier League, reportedly earned over Rs 1,000 crore in broadcast revenue alone. Just qualifying for the UEFA Champions League guarantees clubs Rs 170 crore or more. This is not just prize money—it’s fuel for reinvestment in talent, infrastructure, and long-term planning.

Back in India, that incentive is conspicuously absent. The ISL’s revenue model leans heavily on sponsorships, centralised media rights, and matchday earnings. But with no reward for performance and no threat of relegation, most clubs have little reason to think long-term or invest meaningfully in grassroots ecosystems.

Reddy is blunt about the consequences: “Promotion and relegation are vital. Without them, there’s no incentive to improve.”

This absence of merit-based mobility turns Indian football into what Bajaj calls a gated community, where access is controlled not by ambition or achievement, but by balance sheets. His criticism cuts deep: “If ISL clubs truly have more money, better coaches, and infrastructure, why haven’t they produced even one decent player in 15 years?” He sees a system more interested in maintaining control than encouraging growth.

The result is a top-tier league where risk is minimal, reward is predetermined, and the competitive spirit is muted. In a sport built on the thrill of the climb, Indian football offers no ladder—and without a ladder, there’s no reason to rise.

The Anwar Ali example

Perhaps nothing illustrates this better than the case of Anwar Ali, the 23-year-old centre-back who signed a five-year, Rs 24 crore deal with East Bengal FC, making him the highest-paid Indian footballer ever. That’s Rs 4.8 crore a year—more than some players earn at Premier League clubs.

Bajaj, who helped shape Anwar’s early career, says the issue is not the player, but the distorted market he represents. “It’s basic demand and supply,” he explains. “There are so few quality Indian players that clubs are forced to pay exorbitantly. But if the ISL clubs really had better academies, coaches, and resources, why haven’t they produced a single top player in the last 15 years?”

Instead of creating 50 more Anwar Alis, the system has created an elite bubble, where a few players are overvalued and overprotected—while the pipeline from grassroots to top tier remains broken.

Why Indian players don’t go abroad

Across Asia, top footballing nations like Japan, South Korea, and Iran consistently send their best players to Europe—even to second and third divisions—for exposure and growth. That cultural shift hasn’t happened in India. And Bajaj says it’s because players here get paid too well to take that risk.

“India will qualify for the World Cup only when at least ten Indian players are playing in Europe—Champions League, Europa League, or even the Conference League,” he says. “But will they go abroad? No. Because they’re earning 100 times more here. Why leave?”

For most Indian footballers—many of whom come from modest backgrounds—a Rs 4 crore ISL contract is more than just a career boost. It’s a life-changing opportunity. In such a scenario, chasing the European dream becomes unrealistic, even unfair.

“They’re not wrong to stay back,” Bajaj admits. “They’re supporting families. But it’s the system that’s wrong. If there had been investment in youth and development, these players would have emerged ready and ambitious to go abroad. That’s not happening.”

Relying on a 40-year-old Sunil Chhetri to solve India’s striker woes highlights a deeper issue—without investing in youth development, the national team will remain stuck, forced to lean on aging stars instead of nurturing new talent for the future.

Polish over purpose

Watch any ISL match and you’ll notice what Indian football gets right: stunning production, camera angles, lighting, social media content. But then the game starts—and reality sets in.
“When I watch the ISL and then watch the Premier League, the lighting, stadiums, and overall experience feel the same. But the football? Not even close,” Bajaj remarks.

This, he believes, is because the ISL was never designed with football at its core. It was built for sponsorships, branding, and television—where on-pitch quality was just another ingredient.
“If you’re signing long-term contracts and pumping in so much money, why not invest in youth development too?” he asks. “In 15 years, it’s your league that will benefit.”

Instead, ISL clubs act more like corporate entities—buying players from small academies rather than nurturing their own.
“I’m the one selling players to them, and I should probably just shut up,” Bajaj jokes. “But the truth is, I don’t want to sell players to Mohun Bagan or East Bengal. I want to sell players to Barcelona.”

Control, not growth

As long as promotion and relegation are absent, Indian football will remain a gated club. The fight to introduce merit-based advancement has now entered the courtroom, with All India Football Federation (AIFF) and Football Sports Development Limited (FSDL) pushing back.

“The people running FSDL aren’t footballers. They don’t understand the game,” Bajaj says. “And even now, they’re in court trying to stop promotion and relegation.”
The reason, he believes, is simple: control.

“Clubs and administrators are afraid of unpredictability. They want stability, not sporting chaos. But without that chaos—without giving smaller clubs a ladder to climb—you can never create a real football ecosystem.”

So what now?

There’s no denying that the ISL has brought visibility, structure, and investment into Indian football. But its current trajectory risks becoming a glass ceiling. Without true competition, export-oriented player growth, and grassroots development, India will keep spinning its wheels.

“There’s so much money being pumped in. But where’s the vision?” Bajaj asks, almost rhetorically.

If the goal is to build a footballing nation, not just a football business, then it’s time to bring merit back into the conversation. For now, Indian football may look the part—but until it lets go of its control-first mindset, it’ll continue to fall short of its true potential.