Indian sports coverage has developed a convenient ritual. We ignore an athlete through the years of repetition, travel, injury and small-tournament progress. Then, if she wins an Olympic or Asian Games medal, we discover her “inspiring journey” in a burst of patriotic graphics. By the following week, cricket has reclaimed the screen. Anahat Singh deserves better than this cycle.
The young squash player has accumulated achievements that would already make her a household name in a country with a less lopsided attention economy. Her profile on Olympics.com traces her rise from junior success to senior competition and international medals. Squash’s inclusion in the Los Angeles 2028 Olympic programme has added an obvious target, but I dislike the suggestion that the sport becomes meaningful only because the five rings have certified it.
We confuse visibility with worth
Cricket is not guilty of being popular. Its history, broadcast quality, rivalries and commercial ecosystem have earned an enormous audience. The failure lies with institutions that treat every other sport as seasonal charity. Editors say they cover what people want, broadcasters say audiences follow what they know, and sponsors say visibility determines investment. Each participant points to the next while the loop reproduces itself.
Anahat’s career offers a chance to break that loop. Squash is easy to understand once a viewer is given ten minutes: spatial pressure, speed, endurance and the cruel arithmetic of controlling the central “T”. Good production can show the angles and explain the tactics. Instead, coverage often begins and ends with the score.
The broader Olympics.com India page demonstrates how many Indian athletes compete year-round across disciplines. Their stories are not absent; they are simply scattered beyond the habitual gaze of mainstream sports programming. Fans cannot demand what institutions never consistently place before them.
I want Indian television to acquire and promote important squash events before 2028 fever arrives. I want newspapers to assign reporters who understand the circuit rather than parachuting in at the Olympics. I want interviews that ask about tactics, training loads and opponents—not merely sacrifices, parents and the pressure of representing 1.4 billion people.
A teenager is not a national project
There is another danger in sudden attention: we place the burden of an entire sport on one young athlete. Every defeat becomes a referendum on India’s medal hopes. Every tournament is framed as a step toward Los Angeles. A teenager becomes less a developing professional than an instrument of national expectation.
That framing is unfair and technically foolish. Athlete development is rarely linear. Players alter technique, experience growth, learn travel routines and encounter opponents who study them. Losses can reveal more than easy victories. If media coverage treats anything below a title as failure, athletes either retreat from public view or learn to speak in empty clichés.
Anahat should be allowed to build a career, not perform a continuous audition for patriotic affection. That means celebrating excellence without pretending she is invincible. It means covering rivals and explaining why a particular matchup is difficult. Respecting sport requires respecting uncertainty.
Families carry extraordinary costs in many non-cricket disciplines: coaching, equipment, international flights, physio support and time away from education or work. Federation support and private sponsorship can reduce that burden, but access remains uneven. For every visible prodigy, talented children disappear because the pathway demands money, geography or connections they do not possess.
The federation must build depth
A genuine squash strategy cannot consist of hoping Anahat wins. India needs public courts, trained coaches, age-group competition, sports-science support and transparent selection. The existing centres of excellence have produced fine players, but the sport remains concentrated in a handful of cities, clubs and institutions.
Schools can play a larger role. Squash courts require space and maintenance, so universal provision is unrealistic. Regional hubs shared among schools are not. Federations could also develop modified introductory formats in multipurpose halls. The aim is not to pretend every child will become elite; it is to widen the funnel and make the game familiar.
Women athletes face an additional visibility problem. Coverage often packages them as symbols before treating them as competitors. Their clothes, family approval and “balancing” of life receive questions male athletes rarely confront. I would rather hear Anahat discuss court positioning than be asked for the hundredth time how she manages studies.
Sponsors should understand that sustained association is more valuable than post-medal opportunism. Supporting junior tours, domestic events and coaching creates a credible story. Appearing with a cheque after a podium finish purchases a photograph. Indian companies frequently spend more announcing support than explaining what the support actually funds.
Olympic inclusion is an opportunity, not absolution
Los Angeles 2028 will undoubtedly transform attention. Olympic status can bring government funding, federation urgency and corporate interest. It can also encourage short-term medal chasing: resources concentrated on a few probable contenders while development beneath them remains thin. We have seen this pattern in other disciplines.
I would measure success through more than medals. How many Indian players enter the professional rankings? How many women remain in the sport after junior competition? How many coaches hold credible qualifications? How many domestic tournaments offer meaningful match play? Has access expanded beyond established centres? Those indicators determine whether one athlete’s rise becomes a system or an exception.
Government programmes deserve credit for improving elite support, but coordination remains messy. Athletes and families still navigate federations, schemes and sponsors with different paperwork and timelines. A serious high-performance system should let the athlete train while administrators coordinate around her—not turn administration into another event she must contest.
The public has a role too. We can watch. That sounds embarrassingly simple, but audiences create incentives. Follow a tournament before the medal round. Learn the names of opponents. Share a well-played rally rather than only a victory graphic. Sporting culture is built through attention that survives defeat.
I am optimistic about Anahat because her results justify optimism, not because I need to manufacture a destiny for her. She is a gifted player in a demanding sport, progressing on an international pathway that deserves serious observation. She may win an Olympic medal; she may encounter setbacks; she may produce a career whose importance cannot be reduced to one fortnight in Los Angeles.
India often says it wants to become a sporting nation. A sporting nation does not merely count medals. It recognises craft, follows seasons and understands that athletes exist between opening ceremonies. We should learn Anahat Singh’s name now—not as an advance booking for 2028, but because what she is already doing is worth our attention.
