ASIAD 2026: India men topple Japan 3-0, women fall 1-3 – Behind the historic win lies the depth problem

At noon at the Ichinomiya City Municipal Gymnasium in the Aichi-Nagoya complex, the echoes of applause still reverberated around the stands as Lakshya Sen scored the decisive point. He threw his racket into the air, celebrating as if he had just won an Olympic title, but in reality it was only the third match of the men's team tie against hosts Japan. I stood in the corridor behind the technical area – where no camera ever points – watching the court staff bending down to wipe the sweat off the players. And I suddenly remembered: stars are not born in the stands; they are born in the grind. The 2026 World Cup taught me that, and today it proved true once again. The hero was not Ronaldo or some established star, but a 20-year-old named Ayush Shetty, who had just beaten his Japanese opponent to send India into the semi-finals. The 2026 Asian Games is the 20th edition, held in Aichi and Nagoya, Japan. Badminton took place at Ichinomiya, a venue rather small by Olympic standards but full of heat from the passionate home crowd. India entered with plenty of doubts. In the men's team event, they had won bronze at the 2026 Asian Games in Hangzhou, a result seen as a launching pad for a golden generation. Lakshya Sen was at his peak; the pair of Satwiksairaj Rankireddy and Chirag Shetty had become irreplaceable pillars, while young players like Ayush Shetty were emerging from the system. The women's team, however, lived in the shadow of the past. PV Sindhu no longer possessed the fitness and form that had brought her Olympic medals; young players like Unnati Hooda and Tanvi Sharma were still struggling to find international class. Before the Games, pundits predicted the men's team could surprise Japan in the quarter-finals, but few believed in a clean sweep. Before the match, I had the chance to speak with an unnamed Indian assistant coach outside the venue. He pointed to the smartwatches of the female players warming up and said: “We don't have a data-tracking system like Japan, but we have people who can handle pressure.” That remark reminded me of the many times I had seen data analysts sitting in control rooms, judging every shot through computer screens, without ever stepping onto a real court. Modern sport is handing power to numbers, but sometimes it forgets that the dressing room has its own rhythm, a rhythm that cannot be captured on a graph. The men's match unfolded in a way few could believe. Lakshya Sen in the opening rubber played relentless attacking badminton, winning 21-18, 21-15 against a higher-rated opponent. He finished with a cross-court smash that left a mark on the line, a shot that silenced the arena. Next came Ayush Shetty, a 20-year-old talent placed in the second singles position. Few knew that Shetty had only a handful of caps for the national team in minor events. But instead of trembling before an experienced foe, he played with extraordinary confidence, repeatedly executing sharp drops, moving fluidly, and closing with a convincing victory. Finally, the pair of Satwik-Chirag, the team's so-called anchor, wrapped up the tie in 40 minutes with 21-14, 21-17, sealing a 3-0 triumph. India's men did not need a fourth or fifth rubber, proving they had controlled the contest from start to finish. It is undeniable that Indian badminton's training system has leapt forward over the past decade. From having no representatives at major tournaments, now the men's team boasts several players inside the world's top 50. This rise does not come from luck but from small academies where unassuming former players work day and night to pass on the flame. I once visited such an academy in Hyderabad and watched young players training from five in the morning with old shuttlecocks and cramped courts. That harshness forged the composure Ayush Shetty displayed in the last match. It reminds me that, anywhere, on roads without lights, new stars are still being kindled. Yet just as the men celebrated, the women's disappointment became even more glaring. Only a few hours earlier, on the same court, India's women had fallen to the same Japanese team 1-3. PV Sindhu, the icon of a generation, had nothing to offer and lost badly in the first rubber. She left the court with a blank face, and I saw a young girl embrace Sindhu backstage, whispering something. That was Unnati Hooda, who would also lose the second singles. There was one memorable moment when Treesa Jolly and Gayatri Gopichand won the women's doubles, giving India a fragile hope. But Tanvi Sharma, another young player, could not produce a miracle, and the women's team exited in bitter fashion. Where does the difference between the two teams from the same country come from? I think it lies in squad depth and investment in youth. India's sports administrators are pouring everything into the men's team while the women have been neglected for a decade. The women's story reminds me of 2026, when the pandemic cancelled every tournament and I fell into crisis. With no athletes, I discovered I could still run with my imagination, writing about races that did not exist. And now, watching the Indian girls cry, I felt they were also running on dreams, but those dreams stumbled because the foundation was missing. In the post-match press conference, a local journalist asked the women's head coach about future plans. The answer was evasive; no one mentioned rebuilding the training system, which I thought was the root of the problem. They kept talking about “exposure” and “luck,” but as I have seen in many sports, luck only comes to teams with genuine depth. Speaking of depth, I cannot ignore the technical aspect that the press usually overlooks. In the men's 3-0 victory, the remarkable feature was not the power of the smashes but the timing of the lineup. Ayush Shetty was thrown in from the start, instead of a seasoned veteran, showing the coaching staff's faith in youth in a knockout tie. This can be a lesson for many teams, including football, where coaches often stick with experienced squads. Tactical courage, sometimes, is decided by names that do not appear on the poster. It reminded me of hundreds of matches I have witnessed, where silent heroes such as assistant coaches or sports doctors played decisive roles. So what is the counter-intuitive angle here? The men's 3-0 victory looks like a resounding success, but I question: would it have held if Japan had not dealt with fitness issues? Based on what I have gathered, there is unverified information about injuries to two Japanese pillars. Clubs and national teams often stay secretive about medical matters, releasing information only when it suits their image. This blinds fans and media, and more importantly, makes data analysis meaningless because analysts lack real fitness data on the athletes. I have seen too many analysts sit in cold rooms, judging a match without knowing how many players were in pain, how many had taken painkillers before kickoff. I feel the need to defend common sense: sporting achievement is never separated from the medical and psychological context of real people. Which brings me to the story of the technicians behind the scenes. After the men's victory, I left the celebration area and passed through the dressing room where staff were packing up shoes and rackets. A middle-aged man with a sweaty face, wearing the Indian team uniform, sat counting shuttlecocks one by one. I happened to catch his eye and smiled. He told me he had worked for the Indian team for over a decade, watching generations of players come and go. He was not famous, no one interviewed him, but I knew that people like him, checking every shuttle, had contributed to the historic victory today. There is a phrase I have kept since 2026: “I did not choose journalism; journalism chose me on the track in 2026.” Today, I understand that journalism chose me to tell the stories nobody tells, and the story of that technician is worth more than any page of statistics. Meanwhile, the women's team left the Games with bitter disappointment. But I do not want to write more about tragedy, because sport always allows rebirth. I recall years ago, when a young Vietnamese athlete stumbled on the final lane, people blamed her. But I wrote about her missed steps during training, about the long nights in hospital, about the coaches who sacrificed for her. A few years later, she came back with a medal. For India's women, I believe if they correctly diagnose the depth problem, they can rewrite their story in the next Olympic cycle. Instead of chasing perfection, they should build a youth system capable of producing talents as the men's team has done. Looking back at the whole tournament, I see a special connection between sports. Between the football pitch and the running track, between eSports and transfers, I find a common heartbeat: the story of people overcoming their own limits. Indian badminton today shows that victory comes not from a single star, but from a team invested in systematically and courageously trusting the young. The semi-final against China will be the real test for the coach and his players. If they win, it is an earthquake; if they lose, it is still a long step forward for a rising badminton nation. As for the women's team, I hope today's tears will become the catalyst for everyone in football and sport in general to rethink: how can we build solid systems, from the dressing room to the youth academies, from silent technicians to administrators daring to look ahead? As I left Ichinomiya in the evening, the cool autumn air of Japan surrounded me. Street lights came on, and I thought about the roads opening up for Asian sport. Perhaps one day, a Vietnamese athlete will also write his or her story on such a stage. And when that day comes, I will still be there, as always, with my notebook and my limitless imagination.