Moa Jamir
To say football is passionately followed in Nagaland would be an understatement.
As the FIFA World Cup 2026 unfolds on the other side of the globe, excitement across the State is palpable. From kitchen hearths to social gatherings, conversations invariably veer towards football. Vehicles bear the colours of favourite teams, while many supporters hedge their loyalties across more than one side.
In Ungma village, Mokokchung, seven youths once built a 15-foot bamboo replica of the FIFA World Cup trophy. In Chümoukedima, a father and daughter were recently seen buying Portugal and Argentina jerseys respectively, while it was learnt that rest of the family backed two other teams, turning every matchday into a contest at home.
National teams are often unofficially adopted as a village's own. Sleep schedules are rearranged to accommodate late-night kick-offs, and moods fluctuate with every result. Loyalties run deep and divisions can be fierce, while the Messi-versus-Ronaldo debate remains as contentious in Nagaland as anywhere else in the footballing world.
The passion extends well beyond the World Cup. European club footballs are followed religiously. Thousands recently celebrated Arsenal's long-awaited Premier League triumph with a victory rally.
Such is football's hold over Nagaland that, during the ongoing World Cup, the Department of Power voluntarily directed its divisions to maintain grid stability and minimise outages during match hours. The move was noteworthy because it came without any public demand. Similar assurances during examination periods usually follow appeals from student organisations and other stakeholders. Football, it would seem, succeeded where even examinations often require lobbying.
All of which raises an uncomfortable question: if Nagaland loves football this much, why does football development remain so underwhelming?
Why has a State that prides itself on sporting talent, and which produced India's first Olympic football captain, struggled to translate passion into sustainable footballing success? Is the problem policy, implementation, infrastructure, governance, long-term planning or all of the above?
When the People's Democratic Alliance assumed office in 2018, sports development was projected as a major thrust area. A comprehensive sports policy was promised within 100 days, while a Sports University featured in the government's Common Minimum Programme. Eight years and a second term later, neither has materialised.
Incidentally, Nagaland had a Sports Policy in 2006, intended to promote an integrated approach to sports development. Today, it is virtually absent from the public domain, while its successor appears trapped in an endless cycle of formulation, review and re-formulation.
Even the Youth Resources and Sports Department offers an unintended metaphor for sports governance in Nagaland. Although youth development and sports frequently feature in government priorities and policy pronouncements, the department's official website remains either unreachable or perpetually “under construction.” The symbolism is difficult to miss: many promises in both sectors appear trapped between announcement and implementation.
Against this backdrop, the launch of the Nagaland Super League (NSL) last year appeared to signal a departure from the past. The NSL was never supposed to be merely another sporting event. “We are not just launching a football league; we are igniting a passion, a dream, and a vision for the future of football in our region,” a key functionary declared at its launch.
The inaugural season generated excitement, attracted spectators, created local football heroes and, importantly, offered a structured platform for players. At its conclusion, organisers promised a bigger and better second edition, with expansion plans, more teams and enhanced opportunities. Yet, as World Cup fever once again sweeps across Nagaland, the promised second season appears missing in action.
The question, then, is not simply “Where is NSL?” but whether Nagaland's football development remains trapped in a cycle of events and announcements rather than continuity and institution-building.
For a football-crazy State still waiting for a sports policy promised years ago, the answer matters.
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