Recalling the days when Nepali football stood tall stadiums jam-packed to the brim, roofless concrete stands echoing with the thunder of supporters, spectators holding their breath in suspense at what would unfold next. Players surged with adrenaline, determined to conquer, while journalists crowded the sidelines, their stories destined for the front pages of national dailies and evening television bulletins. Today, that vibrant era feels like a story from a distant past. More than 800 days have passed without a single tournament, leaving fans and players alike in suspense. Before confronting this long-standing silence, it is worth revisiting the golden chapters of Nepali football, its triumphs, passion, and glory before returning to the setbacks that have left the nation’s favorite sport in limbo.
Football first rolled into Nepali history during the Rana regime, when the distant echoes of British colonial influence could be felt across South Asia. In those days, a handful of ambitious youths journeyed to Indian cities like Delhi, Calcutta, and Bangalore suburbs in search of higher education. They returned home with more than diplomas; they brought with them a spark of a new passion. Among these pioneers were the privileged Thapas and Basnets, whose minds had been shaped by foreign culture and whose feet were now guided by the rhythm of a ball. While figures like Nar Shumsher Rana would later formalize the game, it was the daring footsteps of Narayan Narasingh Rana of Thamel and Chandrajung Thapa that first sent the ball bouncing across Nepali soil. Soon, the streets of Kathmandu seemed to pause whenever a match was underway from the palace courtyards of Thamel to the dusty grounds of Jawalakhel and the open fields of Tudikhel as the ball carried the dreams of a new generation, slowly weaving a football culture that would capture the hearts of a nation for generations to come.
Football in Nepal took shape in 1934, when sides like Mahabir-11, NRT-11, and Jawalakhel-11 first laced their boots, with Jawalakhel lifting the inaugural institutional trophy under Nar Shumsher. The game was banned at times, yet it thrived in palace courtyards and on dusty grounds, carried forward by sheer passion. By 1947, even as politics unsettled the nation, the first football committee emerged. King Tribhuvan placed his name on the Tribhuvan Challenge Shield at Tudikhel, while the Ram Janaki Cup brought early structure. After the end of the Rana regime in 1951, Nepal got its Football Federation, ANFA (All Nepal Football Association), and the Prajatantra era under King Tribhuvan gave football new life.
The Ram Janaki Cup was reshaped into the Martyr’s Memorial League, Nepal’s first structured division-league system, turning scattered contests into an organized competition. The opening of Dasarath Stadium in 1959 elevated the stage, hosting celebrated clashes like King-11 vs Prime Minister-11. Through the 1960s and 70s, the Mahendra Gold Cup, Nar Trophy, and ANFA Cup drew roaring crowds and deepened football’s hold on the people. Nepal joined FIFA in 1970, hosted its first major international tournament in 1982, and steadily expanded into youth and women’s football, transforming street games into a national passion woven into everyday life.
Yet glory has never come without scars. On 12 March 1988, Dasarath Stadium, once the symbol of pride, turned into a scene of heartbreak. A sudden hailstorm during the Tribhuvan Challenge Shield final sparked panic among 25,000 fans. With the exits locked, a deadly stampede claimed more than 70 lives. The tragedy carved a wound deep into Nepali football, a reminder of the sport’s fierce popularity and the fragility of its infrastructure. Even amid grief, the national team carried hope forward. Nepal’s first steps on the international stage came at the 1982 Asian Games in New Delhi, where YB Ghale etched his name as the nation’s first international goal scorer. Two years later, hosting the 1984 South Asian Games, Nepal struck gold by defeating Bangladesh 4–2 in the final, a moment that became a beacon of pride for a country still finding its place in world football. The 1990s brought another golden spark, as captain Raju Kaji Shakya led Nepal to victory over India in the 1993 South Asian Games, winning on penalties after a 2–2 draw, a triumph still celebrated in Nepali football circles.
Amidst turmoil and uncertainty, one constant stood tall: the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League, the heartbeat of Nepali football. It gave structure to the domestic game, forged talents who would don the national colors, and kept the dream alive even when the nation faced adversity. Beyond the league, a network of grassroots academies and local tournaments began to bloom, nurturing the next generation of players.
Since its inception in 1954, the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League has crowned 17 different champions across 45 editions, reflecting the unpredictable and competitive spirit of Nepali football. Early years saw clubs like Mahabir, Police Force, and New Road Team etch their names into history, while the 1970s and 80s were dominated by Ranipokhari Corner Team and the rise of Sankata Boys Club. The mid-1980s ushered in a new powerhouse, Manang Marshyangdi Club, which went on to become the league’s most decorated side with eight titles, shaping modern domestic football. Despite its long history, the league was not held in several periods—1958–60, 1964–66, 1988, 1990–94, 1996, 1999, 2001–02, 2007–09, 2011–12, 2014–15, and 2020–21—due to political instability, the Maoist insurgency, administrative conflicts, natural disasters, and the COVID-19 pandemic.
Alongside the historic A-Division League, Nepal also witnessed the rise of the National League (later known as the Red Bull National League), a club-level competition where champions earned the chance to compete on the continental stage, previously in the AFC President’s Cup and now the AFC Cup. To broaden participation, the franchise-based Nepal Super League was introduced for two seasons, in 2011–12 and 2015, bringing a professional and commercial flavor to Nepali football. However, the April 2015 earthquake halted the 2015 season, pausing professional football nationwide and delaying competitive play until the 2018–19 edition of the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League. Despite these interruptions, both leagues have played a crucial role in developing talent, providing clubs with a platform to shine, and keeping the spirit of Nepali football alive. Later decades saw the emergence of challengers like Three Star Club, Nepal Police Club, and Machhindra FC, while new champions such as Church Boys United lifted the trophy in 2023, marking the continuing evolution of the league.
For over 800 days, Nepali football has been in limbo, its future uncertain and its heartbeat faint, as the Division League, once the lifeblood of domestic football, remains dormant. ANFA cites financial hurdles and infrastructure challenges for the delays, but beneath the surface, mismanagement, the absence of a structured football calendar, and constant internal conflicts have left the sport adrift. Dashrath Stadium, once a stage of dreams, now tells a story of neglect, with flooded pitches, flickering lights, and glaring safety hazards, while the AFC’s early concerns about the pitch feel minor compared to the broader decay gripping the nation’s premier venue. Clubs invest heavily in strategy and talent, yet without a regular calendar, their efforts risk unraveling, forcing many players to migrate abroad, chasing survival over glory on meager salaries. Frequent sackings and conflicts involving national team coaches further reflect ANFA’s unstable management, while rumors persist that administrators and members struggle with basic technology, unable even to manage simple emails.
Instability in Nepali football is not new; even under the legendary player-administrator Ganesh Thapa, structural cracks were visible, and the match-fixing scandal shattered trust. Subsequent administrations have failed to restore order, leaving the entire football ecosystem teetering on the edge of a once-thriving world now caught in the shadow of neglect, waiting for a spark to reignite its lost glory. Administrators’ apparent lack of qualification, combined with internal disputes, continue to erode the organization, while the Cricket Association of Nepal surges ahead with effective management, inadvertently raising moral and ethical pressure on ANFA as football lags behind its rising sporting rival. If the current trajectory continues, Nepali football risks fading into obscurity, much like football has in parts of India, where cricket’s dominance overshadowed the sport, emphasizing the urgent need for accountability, modernization, and strategic vision to reclaim even a fraction of its former prestige.
