Dostan Football League in Peshawar: A Successful Event That Exposes a Failing System

 

Musarrat Ullah Jan , KikxNow , Digital Creator

At first glance, the ongoing “Dostan Football League” at the Peshawar Sports Complex looks like a long-overdue revival of football in the province. After nearly five years of silence, competitive matches have returned, organized under private sponsorship, featuring 17 teams from across Pakistan, including sides from Balochistan and departmental units. The matches are being held in a day-night format and will continue until April 30.

On the surface, this checks all the boxes of a “successful event.” But if you step back and analyze it structurally, this league is less a success story and more a case study in systemic failure. It highlights a deeper issue: football—and sports in general—are surviving not because of the state, but despite it.

Start with the most basic question:

If a private organizer can pull this off, what has the provincial sports system been doing for the past five years?

That’s not a rhetorical jab. It’s the central flaw.

The organizers themselves admit they had initially planned to host the event at Shah Thamas Ground but shifted to the sports complex due to public interest. They also aim to expand participation to 32 teams next year. This indicates something important: demand exists. Players exist. Audience interest exists.

What doesn’t exist is a functioning public system to channel any of it.

The Provincial Sports Directorate did provide the ground and accommodation. But let’s be clear, that’s not an achievement. That’s baseline responsibility. When an institution with budget, infrastructure, and policy authority reduces itself to a passive “facility provider,” it signals institutional decay, not efficiency.

The deeper issue here is not operational. It’s strategic. There is no visible long-term vision for sports development.

Then comes the political layer. The Chief Minister of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa was expected to attend. The Advisor on Sports had formally announced the event. Neither showed up. That absence is not just about protocol. It sends a clear signal: sports are not a priority.

When leadership is disengaged, the system below defaults to inertia.

Instead, the event was attended by Health Advisor Mian Khaliq ur Rehman, who used the platform not to discuss sports, but to highlight the limitations of the health department, warning that it may not be able to support the population in the future due to rising illness.

That statement may be valid in isolation, but in this context, it exposes a policy disconnect.

Sport is not separate from health. It is one of the primary preventive tools. Yet here, instead of positioning sport as a solution, it was sidelined entirely. That’s not just a missed opportunity. It’s flawed thinking at the policy level.

 

Now look at the most critical issue: ground accessibility.

Two years ago, this same ground reportedly hosted around 200 active players regularly. Today, that number has dropped to roughly 30. That is not a minor decline. That is a collapse.

Why? Continuous closure and restricted access.

This is where the contradiction becomes hard to ignore. On one hand, the government talks about promoting sports. On the other, it restricts access to the very infrastructure required to play them.

You cannot build a sports culture through occasional events while simultaneously shutting down daily play.

This is the difference between optics and systems.

Another unresolved issue is the “1000 facilities” project, where the Advisor on Sports himself reportedly pointed out irregularities and ordered an investigation through a provincial inspection team. To date, there is silence.

No findings. No accountability. No closure.

That silence is not neutral. It erodes trust.

If corruption or mismanagement exists, it needs exposure and action. If it doesn’t, transparency demands clarification. Right now, neither is happening. That creates a vacuum filled by speculation, which further damages institutional credibility.

Journalists covering sports had expected that the presence of senior officials might provide an opportunity to raise these issues, especially regarding ground access and administrative transparency. But when those officials don’t show up, accountability is effectively bypassed.

This brings us to the bureaucratic culture.

The prevailing attitude appears defensive rather than developmental. Officials are more focused on completing their tenure without controversy than on implementing structural reforms. Criticism is treated as a threat, not feedback. Access to information remains restricted despite Right to Information laws.

This is not just inefficient. It is actively obstructive.

Now, let’s address the core question: who actually benefits from this league?

Primarily, established teams and departmental sides.

What about new players?

There is no visible scouting mechanism. No structured trials. No feeder system. No integration with grassroots development programs.

This is an event-driven model, not a system-driven one.

If the organizers expand to 32 teams next year, where will the additional talent come from? Without academies, local leagues, and consistent training structures, increasing the number of teams does not improve quality. It dilutes it.

 

This is a common mistake in sports management: scaling participation without building the pipeline.

You cannot shortcut player development.

Another uncomfortable reality: private sponsorship is doing the heavy lifting.

Yes, the sponsor deserves credit. Without it, this event likely wouldn’t exist. But this also raises a red flag. When sports depend on private entities, priorities shift.

Private sponsors are not in the business of long-term player development. They are in the business of visibility, branding, and returns. That’s rational. But it also means grassroots investment gets neglected unless it aligns with commercial value.

If the state withdraws, sports become a product, not a public good.

That transition is already visible here.

To be clear, this league should not be dismissed. It has value. It brings visibility. It reactivates interest. It provides competitive exposure.

But calling it progress without addressing the underlying gaps is misleading.

This is not a revival. It is a temporary patch over a broken system.

If the objective is genuine sports development, then the focus needs to shift from events to infrastructure and systems:

Open grounds consistently, not selectively.

Establish grassroots academies with qualified coaching.

Create transparent, merit-based selection and scouting frameworks.

Integrate sports policy with health and education sectors.

Ensure accountability through public disclosure of projects and investigations.

Without these, the cycle will repeat.

Events will come and go. Announcements will be made. Photos will circulate.

But the number of active players will keep shrinking.

And that is the real metric.

Right now, the trajectory is clear: more grounds on paper, fewer players in reality.

If that doesn’t change, then in a few years, you won’t have a football problem. You’ll have a participation crisis.

And no league, no sponsor, and no late-stage intervention will be able to fix that.

#PeshawarFootball #KPSports #FootballPakistan #SportsGovernance #GrassrootsFootball #FixTheSystem #YouthSports #PakistanFootball #SportsPolicy #KPK