Captain who chose football over fame

Srinagar, Jul 28: A modest figure leans on the railing at TRC Synthetic Turf in Srinagar, his eyes drifting over the field as a group of teenagers practice with zest before they take on the field. They chase the ball with energy, unaware of the man watching them. That man is Abdul Majeed Kakroo, the first Kashmiri to captain the Indian national football team.

There are no bright cameras, no cheering crowd—just the echo of teenage shouts and the distant hum of the city. In a land now ruled by cricket fever, he remains quietly steadfast, a living legend many have never heard of.

 From Barefoot Dreams to National Captain

Born in Srinagar, Kakroo’s earliest memories were filled with dust and laughter. “We had nothing but a ball and a dream,” he says. Even as a child, his feet flew over patched concrete with grace. Soon, every makeshift patch of ground in the neighbourhood reverberated with chants of his name.

Playing at an early age in the Jammu & Kashmir state team, young Kakroo stood out for his vision and tenacity. His performances caught the eye of scouts from Kolkata’s football giants. He moved to Mohun Bagan and later to East Bengal—teams considered rival royalty. He grew not just into a star but an idol revered for his dedication and humility.

His crowning moment came in the late 1980s when he was handed the captain’s armband by the national team coach. Born in Srinagar, with the responsibility to lead 1.4 billion Indians—“an honour, but not a joke”, as he puts it. He was not just wearing a jersey, he was bearing a legacy.

Legacy Fading in the Shadow of Cricket

Yet today, football in Kashmir is gasping for breath. The fervour is gone; cricket’s flamboyance has devoured public attention. Kakroo’s words bring a sombre rhythm.

“Football has gone thin in Kashmir over the last 4–5 years. The crowds that used to be thousands are now a few hundred.”

He shakes his head and adds, “Practicing costs Rs 2,500 per month. Barely any kid can afford it. How will talent come through?”

His disappointment is not for himself. He knows legends don’t need applause. It’s for the uncounted generations whose dreams might not even begin.

He places part of the blame on bureaucratic stagnation; many exciting tournaments are announced but never materialise. The District Football Association (DFA), which once managed vibrant events, is now criticised for apathy and poor execution. Kakroo makes it clear,

“This is not their doing. The DFA has been dormantly running. The revival is happening.”

 Sparks of Hope in Local Leagues & Private Tournaments

However, it is not all gloom. He says in recent years, private groups, passionate ex-players, and local sponsors have quietly revived competitive football. They have organised leagues, scout camps, and youth divisions. The atmosphere is once again electric.

“This is 110% a matter of joy,” Kakroo says with renewed energy.

“If this stays consistent, you will see Kashmiris playing in the ISL and I-League—and yes, earning crores.”

He even predicts a shift in player valuations: “One year someone costs Rs 10,000; the next year they are Rs 30,000—and the year after Rs 50,000. That’s growth.”

 The Man Behind the Medal

What distinguishes Kakroo is not just what he achieved it is how he carries it. Even as a national captain, he refused the spotlight. He did not chase fame; he stayed true to the game. When asked why he doesn’t leverage his name for endorsements, he smiles, “It’s easy to say, but very difficult to do. Football is a discipline—and for me, the honour of playing was enough.”

He is approachable too. After matches, he mingles with fans, signs autographs, and even coaches youth for free. For Kakroo, impact is not currency; it is connection.

 What if he had picked Cricket?

Here is the hypothetical that nagged at many: What if Kakroo had chosen cricket?

In India, he would stand head and shoulders above first-class cricketers. In IPL, he would be an assured franchise pick. With endorsements and visibility, he would be mainstream.

“Football is now a game of crores,” he says thoughtfully.

“If our players work hard, they can reach there too, earn millions, and represent the country.”

But Kakroo chose football for love, not luxury. He believes the game’s quieter heart is not a disadvantage—it’s a canvas.

 The Vision of a Football Future for Kashmir

Ask him about the future, and his eyes glitter. He is not longing for his past; he’s draughting a vision.

Grassroots camps—under-12, 15, 17, and 19 squads across districts.

Pro exposure—sending top youth players from Kashmir to academies in Delhi, Kolkata, and even Europe.

Local tournaments—weekly matches across Kashmir to build fitness, culture, and competitiveness.

“If two or three of our kids make the national team,” he says, smiling,

“Kashmir will say, ‘We can beat. And it will spark another generation.”

He points to the recent TRC Synthetic Turf events, where teams from every district participated, as a small but powerful ripple.

Amidst the quiet revival, a fresh chapter has begun for Kakroo. Gazi Shakeel, owner of Greenend Heroes FC and a well-known sports philanthropist in the region, has brought the former India captain on board—not just to coach a team, but to cultivate leadership, discipline, and national ambition among young players.

 The Quiet Exit—and an Echoing Legacy

As dusk turns into night on the TRC turf, Kakroo straightens up, gives a warm nod to the younger players, and blends back into the evening crowd. No fanfare. No ceremony. Just a glance that carries decades of history.

His footprint is not in statues or streaming ad campaigns. It is in the dusty alleyways of Srinagar, in the packed grounds that once roared. It is in the young coach whispering advice on the sidelines. A reminder that legends don’t need noise—they need presence.