There are moments in sport that stay with you forever—not always for the joy they bring, but for the quiet ache they leave behind.
As a lifelong supporter who witnessed my hometown Three Star Club ascend, compete, and embody the pinnacle of Nepali football, the news of our relegation from the A Division is devastating. Yes, we performed very poorly in the league 2 years ago but this wasn’t only due to poor performance or a lack of effort; it was the result of a two-year-old technical oversight that resurfaced long after the season concluded. This particular pain isn’t the sting of a final whistle, but rather the bitter taste of bureaucracy, of decisions made behind closed doors, and of an unexpected verdict shattering a prolonged silence.
Three Star Club is way more than just points on a scoreboard. It’s our history, our pride. It’s where tons of young players found their place, and fans like me found a home. From winning big at home to playing in other countries, this club has been one of the few things you could count on in the wild world of Nepali football.
ANFA remains mired in corruption and inefficiency. Our national team consistently underperforms, and our sole national stadium is so subpar that no foreign team is willing to play there, forcing our team to play “home” matches abroad. Furthermore, the top-tier national league hasn’t been organized for two consecutive years. As of this writing, our FIFA ranking languishes at 175. The recently concluded franchise-based Nepal Super League appears to be more of a corporate event than a genuine effort to promote domestic football.
That’s why this whole thing stings so much. It’s not because we’re scared of losing—every real fan knows football has its ups and downs. But this feels like we lost because of some technicality, not because we got outplayed. We didn’t lose on the field; we got screwed over by a mistake that should’ve been fixed ages ago, not years later when it’s too late to do anything.
This situation raises serious questions. Are we adequately safeguarding the integrity of our clubs? Do our institutions provide clear guidelines and timely oversight? Or are clubs left vulnerable until a minor error escalates into irreversible punishment?
Even with all this, I still believe in the heart of Three Star. We might be relegated on paper, but our legacy is still there—just on pause, not gone forever. This isn’t the end of our story. It’s like a wake-up call. And maybe, a fresh start.
Let’s demand fair play, but also that people take responsibility. Let’s carry this hurt, and let it fire us up for a stronger comeback. Because when you love a club not just for the wins, but for its spirit—you don’t just stop believing because it falls. You wait. You cheer them on. You rise again.