Paper Clubs, Phantom Players and the Erasure of Women in Merged Districts Sports

 

Musarrat Ullah Jan  , KikxNow ,Digital Creator

If official data alone were to be believed, the merged tribal districts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa have quietly become the most vibrant sports hubs in the province. Hundreds of registered sports clubs. Thousands of registered athletes. An administrative success story that, on paper, outperforms even Peshawar, Abbottabad, Mardan, Charsadda and Nowshera combined. But step outside the files and reports, and the picture collapses.

According to official records of the Directorate of Sports for the years 2020–21 and 2021–22, Bajaur has 204 registered sports clubs with 3,708 male athletes. Khyber boasts 346 clubs and 4,506 athletes. Mohmand has 260 clubs and 3,016 athletes. Kurram lists 314 clubs and 3,706 athletes. Orakzai has 172 clubs and 2,204 athletes. North Waziristan records 264 clubs with 3,504 athletes, while South Waziristan shows 270 clubs and 3,464 athletes. These numbers are impressive. Almost too impressive.

There is, however, one detail that stands out with alarming clarity. Across all these districts, the number of registered female athletes is zero. Not low. Not negligible. Zero. This is not a cultural debate. This is a governance failure.

The question is no longer whether women are being encouraged to participate in sports in the merged districts. The question is whether they exist at all in the planning, policy and reporting framework of the sports authorities. Officially, they do not.

Even more troubling is the credibility of the figures themselves. If one asks a basic question on the ground, which sport has how many clubs, where they operate, who registered them and how many are actually active, answers are either delayed for months or never arrive. When sports associations are approached, their versions often contradict official records. Some acknowledge that many clubs exist only on paper. Others admit they do not know how many clubs are functional. A few quietly concede that registration does not necessarily mean activity.

This raises a fundamental issue. Are these clubs real, or are they administrative artifacts created to satisfy reporting requirements, justify budgets and demonstrate “progress” without substance?

The absence of women from the data exposes the deeper flaw. If there were genuine sports ecosystems in these districts, even limited, there would be at least some trace of female participation. A few athletes. A handful of clubs. Pilot initiatives. Development programs. Instead, there is absolute silence.

The merged districts were promised transformation. Special development packages. Institutional reform. Social inclusion. Sports were supposed to be part of that change, a tool for youth engagement, health and social integration. Yet what we see instead is a system obsessed with numbers rather than impact.

No separate infrastructure for women is visible. No female coaches. No documented training programs. No grassroots initiatives. No policy roadmap. And yet the reports declare success. This is not progress. This is statistical theatre.

One must also ask a more uncomfortable question. Does excluding women from registration conveniently reduce accountability? If women were included, authorities would need to answer difficult questions. Where are the grounds? Where are the facilities? Who is responsible? What budgets are allocated? Keeping women out of the data means these questions never arise.

 

Sports development cannot be measured solely by the number of registered clubs. Registration is not participation. Paper structures do not produce athletes. Files do not create playing fields. And statistics do not replace policy.

The irony is that the merged districts are often cited as socially conservative, and that reality is frequently used as a convenient excuse. But conservatism does not automatically mean absence. Across Pakistan, including in rural and conservative areas, women participate in sports where systems exist and support is provided. What is missing here is not willingness alone, but institutional intent.

If thousands of male athletes can be registered, transported, trained and documented, then the complete exclusion of women is not accidental. It is systemic.

This also undermines the credibility of the entire sports governance structure in the merged districts. If half the population is invisible in official records, what confidence can be placed in the remaining data? If clubs cannot be easily identified on the ground, what assurance exists that funding and resources are being used as claimed?

The merged districts deserve better than symbolic development. Youth deserve real opportunities, not inflated statistics. And women deserve recognition as citizens, athletes and stakeholders, not as omissions in spreadsheets.

This column does not accuse individuals. It questions a system that prioritizes appearances over outcomes. A system where success is reported upward while reality is ignored downward. A system where numbers look impressive, but fields remain empty.

The solution is not complicated. Conduct independent audits of registered clubs. Publicly disclose active versus inactive entities. Introduce clear criteria for registration. Create gender-inclusive policies with measurable targets. Start small if necessary, but start honestly.

Because development that exists only on paper is not development. And sports governance that erases women is not governance at all.

Until the gap between reports and reality is addressed, the sports “boom” in the merged districts will remain what it currently appears to be: a carefully maintained illusion.

#SportsGovernance  #MergedDistricts  #WomenInSports  #PaperClubs   #PhantomAthletes  #GenderExclusion  #PublicAccountability  #KP_Sports  #PolicyFailure #kikxnow #digitalcreator #musarratullahjan