Cricket fans around the world witnessed high drama and simmering tensions at the Dubai International Cricket Stadium on September 29, 2025, as India edged past Pakistan in a gripping Asia Cup final. But it wasn’t just the on-field action that made headlines—what unfolded after the match has ignited a new chapter in the storied India-Pakistan rivalry, casting a spotlight on the complex interplay of politics and sport.
India clinched its ninth Asia Cup title, and its second in the T20 format, thanks to a nerveless half-century from Tilak Varma and a final-over flourish from Rinku Singh. The victory itself was a testament to India’s cricketing depth, but the events that followed have overshadowed even this hard-fought win.
In an unprecedented move, the Indian team refused to accept the Asia Cup trophy from Mohsin Naqvi, the chief of the Asian Cricket Council (ACC), who also serves as the chairman of the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) and Pakistan’s Interior Minister. This act set off a chain reaction of confusion, frustration, and heated debate that is still reverberating across the cricketing world.
The trophy presentation ceremony, typically a joyous affair, was delayed by over an hour. Stunned spectators and television viewers watched as officials scrambled to resolve the standoff. The Indian players made it clear they were willing to accept the trophy from Khalid Al Zarooni, Vice Chairman of the Emirates Cricket Board, but Naqvi refused to relinquish his role as presenter. With tensions mounting, the trophy was quietly removed from the podium, and the ceremony limped to a close without a champion’s celebration.
“This is one thing which I have never seen since I started playing cricket, started following cricket—a champion team is denied a trophy, that too a hard-earned one,” Indian captain Suryakumar Yadav told reporters in the post-match media conference. “I feel we deserved it. And I can’t say anything more.” He added, “If you tell me about trophies, mine are sitting in the dressing room, all 14 guys with me, the support staff—those are the real trophies throughout this journey in the Asia Cup.”
The immediate trigger for the Indian team’s refusal stemmed from Naqvi’s reposting of provocative images on X (formerly Twitter), including one titled ‘Final Day’ showing Pakistan players in flight suits with fighter jets in the background. Earlier in the tournament, Naqvi had shared a picture of football superstar Cristiano Ronaldo depicting a crashing plane. For the Indian side, these posts crossed a line, especially given the fraught political climate between the two nations.
The tension on the field mirrored broader geopolitical strains. Just months before the tournament, a terror attack in Pahalgam claimed 26 lives, prompting India to launch Operation Sindoor, targeting terror infrastructure in Pakistan-administered Kashmir and Pakistan itself. The fallout led to a tense military standoff in April and May 2025, disrupting both the Indian Premier League and the Pakistan Super League.
Against this backdrop, the Asia Cup was supposed to be a rare platform for cricket diplomacy. Instead, it became a stage for protest and posturing. India had already refused to shake hands with Pakistani players throughout the tournament, dedicating their initial victory to the families of the Pahalgam attack victims. The refusal to participate in the trophy ceremony was the latest—and most visible—manifestation of this stance.
Pakistan captain Salman Agha, who led his team to the final, expressed disappointment at India’s conduct. “Good teams don’t do what they did today (by refusing to accept the trophy from Naqvi),” Agha said during the post-match press conference. “We went to pose with the trophy on our own because we wanted to fulfil our obligations. We stood there and took our medals. I don’t want to use harsh words but they’ve been very disrespectful.”
Agha further lamented the message being sent to young fans across both countries. “If a kid is watching in India or Pakistan, we’re not sending them a good message. People think of us as role models, but if we’re behaving like this, we’re not inspiring them. What happened shouldn’t have happened, but you should ask the people (India) responsible for this rather than me.”
BCCI secretary Devajit Saikia confirmed India’s decision, stating, “We have decided not to take the Asia Cup trophy from the ACC chairman, who happens to be one of the main leaders of Pakistan. But that does not mean that the gentleman will take away the trophy with him, along with the medals. So it is very unfortunate and we hope that the trophy and the medals will be returned to India as soon as possible.” Saikia also announced plans to launch a “very serious and very strong protest” at the upcoming ICC conference in Dubai this November.
The fallout from the incident was immediate. Indian players, including Tilak Varma (player of the match), Abhishek Sharma (player of the tournament), and Kuldeep Yadav (best bowler), received their individual awards from sponsor representatives, pointedly avoiding any acknowledgment of Naqvi. The Pakistan team, meanwhile, accepted their runners-up medals from Aminul Islam, president of the Bangladesh Cricket Board, and received their check from Naqvi.
The stands, once packed with jubilant fans, grew restless as the delay stretched on. Boos echoed around the stadium, with many spectators unsure if they would ever witness the traditional trophy lift. TV commentator Ravi Shastri called the situation “ridiculous,” noting the players had to wait 45 minutes after the match’s conclusion for a ceremony that ultimately never happened.
This Asia Cup was supposed to mark a thaw in cricketing relations between the two nations, but instead, it has underscored how deeply politics and sport remain intertwined. Naqvi, for his part, maintained that “politics and sports can’t go together,” urging both sides to keep cricket separate from broader disputes. Yet, his own actions on social media and the BCCI’s uncompromising stance have only added fuel to the fire.
The “handshake controversy” that had simmered throughout the tournament—India’s refusal to exchange greetings with their Pakistani counterparts, and vice versa—reached its peak on the night of the final. Suryakumar Yadav was reprimanded for his statements after the first game, while Pakistan’s Haris Rauf was penalized for his on-field behavior during the second. Despite these disciplinary actions, neither side softened its approach.
As the dust settles, the Asia Cup trophy and medals remain in limbo, a stark symbol of unresolved tensions. The Indian team departed Dubai without the hardware but with their heads held high, while the cricketing world is left to ponder the future of this iconic rivalry. Will cricket once again serve as a bridge between India and Pakistan, or are the divides now too deep to cross?
For now, the Asia Cup’s legacy is not only about the runs scored or wickets taken, but about the powerful—and sometimes painful—intersection of sport and national identity. With the ICC conference looming and both boards digging in, the next chapter in this saga promises to be just as compelling as the match itself.
