As T20 World Cup begins, Gen Z need to realise journalists are not cheerleaders

About a week before the T20 World Cup, Sharda Ugra woke up to a wave of criticism. Her lack of presence on social media meant that she was largely unaware of what was unfolding, but a flurry of messages from friends and colleagues ensured that she quickly grasped the scale of the reaction to her interview with The Wire.

The interview, conducted by Karan Thapar, did not sit well with a large section of Indian cricket fans. In it, Ugra criticised the Board of Control for Cricket in India for politicising the sport. She also took aim at the Pakistan Cricket Board for repeatedly attempting to extract mileage from controversy, and at the International Cricket Council for not doing anything about it.

By the morning of January 28, Sharda Ugra — a journalist with over three decades of experience — had been turned into a problem for India’s majoritarian cricket crowd. The criticism ranged from challenges to her professional credentials to deeply personal and abusive attacks.

Ugra, however, remained unmoved.

“I have zero digital footprint, and I had no idea what was going on. My friends were messaging me frantically, asking if I was okay. That’s how I found out. But it didn’t make me feel bad. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. This tends to happen whenever I write or say something that doesn’t align with popular opinion,” Ugra told India Today.

“I was deeply moved by the support I received — from people I know and people I don’t, from all over the world. That was beautiful,” she added.

The nature of the criticism directed at Ugra underlined a deeper malaise in India’s cricket ecosystem. Was disagreement no longer possible without hostility? Had character assassination become the default mode of engagement on social media?

‘SOCIAL MEDIA IS TOILET OF THE INTERNET’

India Today Consulting Editor Rajdeep Sardesai sees this as part of a larger pattern. For him, the vilification of individuals is a political habit that has seeped into other spheres, including sport. A generation that has grown up watching public figures being delegitimised through sustained online attacks may now see personal abuse not as an aberration, but as a legitimate — even fashionable — form of expression.

“Like politics, sports opinion too is becoming worryingly polarised. And the politicisation of sport has made the discourse more shrill, more aggressive, and far more shallow,” Sardesai said over the phone.

POLARISATION SELLS

The Sharda Ugra episode echoes Lady Gaga’s famous line: Social media is the toilet of the internet. It is difficult to argue otherwise.

Indian cricket discourse has increasingly become a battlefield of fandoms. Divisiveness sells, and platforms reward it. Beyond India vs Pakistan or East Bengal vs Mohun Bagan, even players from the same team are pitted against one another. Virat Kohli fans clash with Rohit Sharma fans. Shubman Gill supporters sneer at Rishabh Pant loyalists.

It may seem trivial, but the incentives make things clear: the more polarising the content, the greater the reach — and the more lucrative the ecosystem becomes.

In Ugra’s case, some accused her of being a “Pakistan agent” — a claim so absurd that, if voiced in a family WhatsApp group, would likely be met with a collective groan. But anonymity changes the rules. Without accountability, outrage becomes effortless.

And women, inevitably, bear the worst of it.

At the 2024 Paris Olympics, boxer Imane Khelif was subjected to a grotesque campaign of harassment. Morphed images circulated freely. Fake quotes were attributed to her. A section of the internet decided she was a man because she did not conform to a narrow, deeply patriarchal idea of what a woman should look like.

More recently, the influence of Andrew Tate has demonstrated how algorithm-driven platforms can amplify misogyny at scale. A convicted criminal, Tate has built an “alpha male” mythology around himself, one that reduces women to objects and hostility to virtue. Social media platforms elevate his content because outrage performs — and performance translates into profit.

Tate says something inflammatory. It goes viral. Podcasts invite him on for clout. He launches courses and shows, which in turn create more content, feeding the same cycle.

“I think social media gives people a licence to put out ill-tempered and vile observations,” Ugra said. “It has given people power without consequences.”

This is not to suggest that civil discourse is impossible. During the Women’s Premier League in 2026, widespread support emerged for Lizelle Lee when she was fat-shamed online. The response included criticism, yes, but also thoughtful discussion about fitness, performance and unrealistic standards imposed on athletes.

The real fracture does not lie in disagreement itself, but in the normalisation of offensive and hateful speech — often legitimised by those in positions of power. Social media accelerates this process, teaching users that those who disagree are not merely wrong, but undeserving of engagement.

Once that line is crossed, conversation collapses.

BUT WHO BENEFITS FROM POLARISATION?

With the commodification of outrage, sporting discourse in India — and elsewhere — has grown steadily more polarised. When India play Pakistan, advertisements routinely demean the opposition. The same rhetoric, perhaps, exists across the border. Against Australia, the narrative shifts to revenge, conquest and lion vs kangaroo metaphors.

Polarisation has become embedded in the spectacle itself.

But who benefits from it?

“The polarisation serves a purpose for those who use cricket and the BCCI to project a certain image,” Ugra said. “You see it constantly in broadcast advertising. Unyielding nationalism, belittling rivals, humiliating them — it began lightly and humorously, but it has grown far more toxic, particularly with reference to Pakistan.”

The BCCI would rather not show Indian and Pakistani fans dancing together to the tunes of Pasoori in the stands, but it will repeatedly replay footage of jeering crowds.

“It has now become a battle between governments. That’s what it serves. It insults fans and belittles the game. There is no space left for joy or banter,” Ugra added.

Cricket boards increasingly function as extensions of the state. The BCCI mirrors the Indian government, just as the PCB reflects Pakistan’s and the BCB Bangladesh’s.

If cricket boards had focused purely on the sport, Mustafizur Rahman would not have become a soft target in the IPL. Bangladesh would not have withdrawn from the T20 World Cup, and Pakistan would have addressed its broken cricketing structure instead of outsourcing blame.

Instead, cricket has been pulled into a geopolitical trifecta that has pushed the game itself to the margins.

And who benefits? PCB chief Mohsin Naqvi, reportedly harbouring ambitions of becoming the Prime Minister of Pakistan. A majoritarian Indian government keen to project strength. Bangladeshi leaders, who are more invested in stoking anti-India sentiment than in repairing domestic failures.

“The brand of nationalism that demands constant hostility towards rivals shows how narrow we have become,” said Sundeep Misra, Editor of the NNIS. “There is an army of people willing to spew outrage. This has been engineered.”

They are politicians, after all.

WHY JOURNALISTS ARE NOT CHEERLEADERS

That this culture is entrenched became evident on January 28, when a largely Gen Z online audience turned on Sharda Ugra. One Instagram reel accused her of hypocrisy for criticising the BCCI alone. The implication was familiar: critique is invalid unless evenly distributed, that power can only be questioned if all power is questioned simultaneously.

This reflex — why this and not that — is not an invitation to broaden conversation. It is a mechanism designed to shut it down. Instead of engaging with substance, motives are interrogated, credibility is challenged, and intent is questioned. The original argument disappears.

One X account even demanded to know who Ugra was, and what she had achieved.

A simple Google search would have enlightened that silly troll. Sharda Ugra is 57. More than 30 years of which she has watched and reported on Indian sports. She is not just any journalist. She is one of the finest writers and the most respected journalists in the profession. That's who Sharda Ugra is.

The problem is not Gen Z’s passion. That has always existed in sport. The problem is the belief that journalists are cheerleaders — that their role is to amplify national sentiment, not interrogate power.

What is being missed is that critique is not betrayal. Questioning institutions is not disloyalty. Disagreement, when done honestly, is not violence. Journalism, especially in sport, has never been about picking sides; it has been about asking why sides exist in the first place.

And yet, despite the vitriol, Ugra refuses to write Gen Z off.

“When you write this, give Gen Z my love. I hope they figure things out at their own pace. That life is more gentle with them. Try to be kind, try to be happy — that’s all,” she said.

As Sharda Ugra signed off, she reminds that sport remains one of the few social inventions capable of collapsing borders, languages and identities into a common emotion. That is precisely why those who profit from division are invested in fracturing it. And that is why we cannot let them get away with it.

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