From Karachi to Peshawar... An Afridi’s Financial "Flying Kick"!

In the November chill of Peshawar, sports politics has once again delivered that same old kick—only this time, it’s "Muay Thai" style. The 40th meeting of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) cabinet on November 14 has a fascinating agenda item: "Financial assistance of 2 million PKR for Khan Said Afridi, Muay Thai Kickboxer."

The question now is: is this fund for the promotion of Kickboxing, or for the promotion of the Kickboxer himself? In KP, "sports" usually doesn't mean the playing field; it means the speed of the summary, the note sheet, and the file.

The "Connection" Game

We are told that Khan Said Afridi "hails from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa." Ah, the "connection"! This is the same connection an average citizen remembers on election day, and an athlete remembers only when "Approval of Grant-in-Aid" is written on a file.

The real story is that Khan Said grew up in Karachi, trained there, fought there, and found success there. But suddenly, we remembered: "No, brother, he is an Afridi; by tribe, he’s a son of KP!" It doesn’t matter if he throws the "kick" in Karachi; the applause (and the cash) must come from Peshawar.

Tribe Over Talent?

This is a strange tradition in KP. People here don't see a success and ask, "How hard did he work?" Instead, they ask, "Which tribe is he from?" It’s as if the first box on the merit list is:

1. Affiliation? (Afridi, Wazir, Khattak?)

2. Performance? (We’ll look into that later.)

Reading the November 14 agenda, one might think the Chief Secretary or Ministers are in "fighter mode." A Secretary might present the summary: "Sir, 2 million PKR is proposed for Muay Thai fighter Khan Said Afridi." And a Minister might reply: "A kickboxer? You mean he hits people? Okay, approve it quickly before he gets angry with us!"

The Merit of the "Agenda"

Think of the athletes actually sweating in KP’s grounds, waiting for a glance of government grace. They don't realize the real competition isn't on the field; it’s securing a spot on the Cabinet agenda.

Khan Said is undoubtedly a talented athlete, no denial there. But the question isn't whether he is good; it’s whether he meets the criteria of a "KP athlete." If he trains, lives, and finds sponsors in Karachi, why use KP's provincial funds? It’s like a teacher in Peshawar getting an award from the Lahore Board just because "he can speak Punjabi."

In KP, every sport seems to have a tribal "Sub-committee." One tribe dominates cricket, another hockey, a third bodybuilding. Now that it’s Muay Thai’s turn, the Afridi tribe enters the ring. Someone jokingly remarked:

"The Sports Directorate should be renamed the Department of Tribal Sports Affairs."

The Cost of a Single "Favourite"

Do the maths. There are dozens of athletes in KP who need a mere 50,000 PK to compete nationally or internationally. Some lack gloves, others lack tracksuits. But through the lens of government grants, 2 million PK is reserved for a single "chosen one."

It’s like a whole class passing an exam, but the prize goes only to the student whose cousin sits on the examination board. If the government truly wants to help, it should distribute funds through institutions and academies—not through tribal recommendation lists.

Policy vs. Reality

In 2023, the KP government grandly announced a new "Sports Policy," promising rewards based on performance. So far, the policy’s greatest achievement is that its pages haven't even left the files. Does the policy state: "Whoever makes it onto the Cabinet agenda is automatically deemed meritorious"?

Khan Said’s story isn't about one individual; it’s a reflection of a system where a file travels faster than an athlete's hard work. Decisions are made in meeting rooms, not stadiums.

Whether Khan Said gets the grant or not will be decided on November 14. If granted on tribal or personal grounds, it won't be a sport; it will be a "political jump-kick." If based on pure merit, it will be the first time KP has judged sport for what it truly is. For now, one can only say: "This province isn't a champion of sports; it’s a champion of 'decisions'." Because here, every game starts with an "Agenda Item," and every agenda item ends with a "Tribal Salute."