Cricket in India is no longer a season, it is an ecosystem. From the high-voltage spectacle of the Indian Premier League to ICC tournaments and an endless cycle of bilateral series, the sport now commands near year-round attention, media inventory and marketing budgets. For brands seeking immediate national scale, few platforms can rival its reach. It delivers mass eyeballs, cross-generational appeal and cultural centrality in a way that no other Indian property currently can.
But dominance brings density. As sponsorship rosters expand, team jerseys resemble patchwork billboards and ad breaks grow increasingly crowded, a new concern is surfacing inside boardrooms and agency war rooms alike: is scale coming at the cost of distinctiveness? When every brand shows up in the same arena, does visibility automatically not translate into recall? And more importantly, does visibility justify the premium?
The question is not whether cricket works. It clearly does. The question is whether it works equally well for everyone and whether brands, in their pursuit of predictable mass exposure, are overlooking deeper, more focused investments with emerging leagues beyond cricket’s expensive spotlight.
Ashwin Padmanabhan, Chief Operating Officer, WPP Media South Asia, frames it pragmatically. “It really depends on the brand’s objectives,” he says. Cricket delivers deep penetration across age groups and builds rapid reach in a short period. For a launch, a share-of-voice battle, or a brand seeking sharp top-of-mind visibility, it works.
But not all brands need a burst. Some need sustained daily salience. “If I’m a brand that is sold and used every day, it may not be as economical,” Padmanabhan notes. The equation, ultimately, is whether the reach and recall from cricket translates into measurable sales impact. For some clients, it does. For others, the cost may outweigh the incremental gain.
The debate is not about cricket’s scale. It is about diminishing returns.
As Ramakrishnan R, Co-Founder and Director, Baseline Ventures, bluntly puts it: “The problem with the Indian sporting landscape is that there is no real alternative.” With nearly 90–95% of sports viewership skewed toward cricket, brands default to the obvious choice. Visibility is guaranteed.
“You have 30,000 people in a stadium. Someone or the other is watching cricket, even if for a fraction of a second,” he says. That passive, ambient exposure has value.
But visibility alone is not leverage. Ramakrishnan argues that India is not yet a mature sporting economy where multiple leagues command consistent nine-month engagement like in Europe. Outside cricket and largely outside marquee tournaments, consumer interest is finite. “We don’t like sports. We like winning,” he says, echoing sentiments often expressed by Olympic gold medallist Abhinav Bindra about India’s episodic sports fandom.
This creates a structural imbalance. Broadcasters burn capital on cricket rights, leaving limited media revenue for emerging leagues. The result? Most non-cricket properties survive largely on sponsorship money rather than self-sustaining broadcast economics.
Yet, alternatives are not standing still. The Pro Kabaddi League and Indian Super League have steadily carved audience niches. While they cannot match cricket’s reach, they promise something else: concentrated engagement.
Karan Yadav, Chief Commercial Officer at JSW Sports (owners of Haryana Steelers), argues that kabaddi’s strength lies in focused cultural connection. “Cricket naturally attracts the largest share of marketing spends. But brands don’t allocate budgets to just one property anymore,” he says.
In Haryana, kabaddi is embedded in the culture. The environment is less cluttered, partner visibility is clearer, and associations are more tangible. “Because the ecosystem is less crowded, partners are more visible, and the association is clearer,” Yadav explains.
Importantly, partnerships are evolving beyond season-led experimentation. What began as tactical deals are increasingly becoming multi-season commitments. “Brands prefer continuity once they understand the audience and the engagement patterns. This continuity helps both sides. It allows the brand to build recognition and allows us to plan integrations more effectively,” he says, pointing to repeat jersey partnerships for Haryana Steelers as evidence of growing confidence.
The bigger issue may not be where brands invest—but how. “At Prime Volleyball League (PVL), what we try to do is create a comprehensive package comprising TV, on-ground and digital visibility which brings more focussed visibility and value for a brand. Of course, cost is also a big factor, cricket is expensive if you look at the ROI,” says Tuhin Mishra, MD & Co-Founder – Baseline Ventures, Prime Volleyball League’s exclusive marketing partner.
Tuhin says that PVL is seeing a combination of both approaches. Some brands have been associated with us for the past 2–3 years in a long-term capacity, while others partner for just a single season. The decision tends to be either strategic or tactical, depending on the brand’s specific needs and objectives. While certain brands still view emerging leagues as experimental, there is a noticeable increase in brands that are more open to entering into long-term partnerships with PVL.
Ramakrishnan argues that most Indian marketers treat sports sponsorship as a visibility play rather than a leverage platform. “It is not rocket science to advertise on cricket,” he says. The harder task is activating and internalising sponsorships.
Are employees excited about the property? Does the sales team leverage it? Do brands build IPs around players, local identity, and community engagement? Or do they expect logo placements to perform magic?
Yadav echoes this shift in thinking. For Haryana Steelers, integration extends beyond jersey logos and perimeter boards to player-led digital content, grassroots academies, and long-form storytelling formats. “When a brand becomes part of the team’s narrative across content, culture, and community, recall strengthens,” he says.
That depth of integration may deliver lower reach but higher involvement, a trade-off increasingly relevant in a fragmented media landscape.
So, should brands diversify? “Absolutely,” says Ramakrishnan. “There is life beyond cricket.” But he cautions against superficial comparisons. Emerging leagues cannot be benchmarked against cricket’s scale. They must be evaluated on engagement quality, regional impact, and long-term cultural capital.
He also calls for “responsible sports sponsorship”—brands supporting broader sporting ecosystems rather than chasing only mass visibility. In his view, if India wants sporting depth and global competitiveness, commercial backing must widen.
Padmanabhan, however, brings the conversation back to fundamentals: objective clarity. If the task is rapid reach and salience spikes, cricket remains unparalleled. If the objective is sustained community building, regional depth, or differentiated association, alternative properties may offer better efficiency.
Perhaps the debate is not cricket versus kabaddi, or IPL versus ISL. It is burst versus continuity. Visibility versus involvement. Premium predictability versus cultural differentiation.
Cricket is expensive but it works. The question is whether brands are extracting full value from that investment, or defaulting to it out of habit.
As sports calendars grow denser and attention fragments further, the smarter play may not be abandoning cricket, but balancing it. Because in India’s current sporting reality, cricket buys you scale. Everything else demands commitment.
