It was supposed to be a season of revival, a chance for the Indian women hockey team to reassert its place among the sports global elite.
Instead, the 2024–25 FIH Pro League campaign ended in heartbreak. After 16 matches, just 10 points, and a string of painful defeats, India found itself relegated from the top tier of world hockey. For a team that just four years ago had captured the imagination of the country with a historic fourth-place finish at the Tokyo Olympics, the fall has been steep and deeply unsettling.
The journey began promisingly. Playing at home in Bhubaneswar in February 2025, India produced some eye-catching results. A spirited 3-2 win over England, a gritty 1-0 victory against Germany, and an unforgettable shootout triumph over the world’s top-ranked side, the Netherlands, had fans hopeful that this team had turned a corner. Eight of their eventual ten points came from this leg. There was belief, energy, and the familiar rhythm of a side that knew how to rise when counted out. But as the European leg of the league began in June, the wheels came off and fast.
Eight consecutive losses followed. Starting in Antwerp and ending in Berlin, the team endured heavy defeats to Australia, Argentina, Belgium, and finally, China. By the time they took the field for their last match, their fate was already sealed. Germany’s win over England had made it mathematically impossible for India to avoid finishing last.
The final whistle in their 2-3 loss to China marked not just the end of a disappointing campaign, but a stark reality: India was no longer part of the League of the Best.
But this relegation wasn’t a case of bad luck or one poor tour. It was the culmination of deeper tactical failings, a fraying psychological edge, and an administrative mess that continues to haunt the team. The cracks had been showing for a while; the Pro League merely brought them into the harsh light of day.
A significant part of India’s downfall lay in its failure to execute the basics. Penalty corners such a crucial part of modern hockey were an Achilles’ heel. Defensively, India leaked goals from set-pieces with alarming regularity. Belgium’s 1-5 drubbing included four goals from penalty corners. Against Argentina, the same story played out. Even in their must-win games against China, they conceded soft PCs and couldn’t recover.
Offensively, things weren’t any better. Despite creating opportunities, their own penalty corner routines were ineffective. Drag-flicker Deepika, often the go-to option, lacked power and unpredictability. In a campaign that demanded clinical finishing, India too often fluffed its lines.
The struggles extended beyond set-pieces. In open play, the Indian attack was blunt and unimaginative. The statistics are brutal. In the 0-2 loss to Belgium, India registered 22 circle entries and came away with nothing. They dominated possession in the first half against Argentina but couldn’t score. Too often, the team relied on individual brilliance or hopeful hits into the circle, instead of constructing purposeful, coordinated attacks.
The lack of creativity and tactical adaptability was evident. There were no quick switches, no intricate give-and-go moves, no changes in tempo that could unbalance elite defences.
And then there was the defence. Over the course of the season, India conceded 43 goals while scoring just 22. They managed just one clean sheet in 16 matches. Under pressure, the defensive unit regularly crumbled. Young defenders looked overwhelmed, and despite the experience of goalkeeper Savita Punia, the backline appeared disorganized. The team failed to defend leads, made poor decisions in their own half, and committed unforced errors that gifted opponents penalty corners.
Perhaps the most alarming aspect of the campaign was the absence of leadership when it was needed most. This was not an inexperienced squad. In their critical match against China, the Indian team averaged over 80 caps per player higher than their opponents. Yet on the pitch, they looked tentative, disjointed, and mentally exhausted.
Senior players like Salima Tete, Neha Goyal, Navneet Kaur, and Lalremsiami couldn’t rally the team when things began to slip. The moments that demanded poise and composure were instead marked by panic and poor execution.
These on-field struggles were compounded by off-field turmoil. The resignation of head coach Janneke Schopman in early 2024 had already destabilized the team. Her departure wasn’t quiet; she left behind a scathing critique of the system, citing a lack of respect, institutional bias, and a deeply frustrating environment for the women in leadership. Her public remarks painted a picture of dysfunction that likely weighed heavily on the team.
When Harendra Singh was brought in to steady the ship, he inherited a squad that was not just physically tired, but mentally broken. His attempts to instill an attacking philosophy found little success, as the players struggled to implement his vision.
What followed in Europe wasn’t just a losing streak it was a team spiralling. The inability to hold leads, convert chances, or remain defensively compact was symptomatic of a larger problem: a crisis of confidence. From the moment the squad failed to qualify for the Paris Olympics, the sense of belief had begun to erode. The Pro League campaign simply exposed the extent of that erosion.
This relegation must also be understood in the broader context of the team’s trajectory since Tokyo 2020. That fourth-place finish had marked a high point, promising a new era for Indian women’s hockey. But since then, the signs have been worrying. Failing to win gold at the 2023 Asian Games cost them a direct Olympic berth.
The missed opportunity at the Olympic Qualifiers in Ranchi earlier this year was a devastating blow. And now, being relegated from the Pro League after finishing eighth the previous season confirms that the decline wasn’t momentary; it was systemic.
The consequences of relegation are profound. India now loses access to 16 guaranteed matches per season against the best teams in the world. This is not just a loss of prestige it’s a massive dent in player development, match sharpness, and international exposure.
Former coach Sjoerd Marijne had once said the Pro League was the best preparation for major tournaments, and without it, India’s players may find it increasingly difficult to stay competitive at the highest level.
To make matters worse, while India is stuck in the second tier, their Asian rivals particularly China are accelerating. China are not only Pro League regulars but also Olympic silver medallists. They’ve now beaten India twice in crucial matches. The gap between the two sides is growing, and without consistent high-quality competition, catching up will become increasingly difficult.
The road back for India is steep. Their first objective will be to win the next edition of the FIH Nations Cup to regain Pro League status. That tournament, expected to feature strong teams like Ireland, Japan, and Korea, will be fiercely contested. Nothing is guaranteed. Simultaneously, the team must target the 2025 Asia Cup as their best route to qualify for the 2026 World Cup. That competition, scheduled to be held in Hangzhou, will see India potentially face China on home soil.
What’s needed now is more than a tactical reset it’s a strategic rethink. The team desperately requires high-quality penalty corner specialists, both for attack and defense. The coaching staff must adopt modern data-driven approaches, develop multiple attacking shapes, and instill a defensive discipline that has been missing. Off the field, there must be stability. No more late coaching exits, no more public disputes. The administration must create a professional, respectful environment that supports long-term growth.
Above all, this is a moment to reflect—not panic. The talent in Indian women’s hockey is undeniable. But unless that talent is nurtured with care, strategy, and vision, it will continue to be squandered. The FIH Pro League is where the best belong. India has tasted it. The challenge now is to return and stay.
If this relegation becomes the turning point that forces Indian hockey to confront its flaws and invest in meaningful change, then perhaps this heartbreak won’t have been in vain. But if lessons go unlearned, the road back might stretch far longer than anyone would like to admit.
