If they could, the Badminton World Federation would find ways to attract big sponsors to the sport, as it is highly attractive and watchable and has a large fan base in populous Asia. Because, at the end of every year, the champion shuttles are a cruel reminder of how only a fraction of tennis players earn. But Badminton is not the only one making money, the global body can make life easier at least for its top players.
Viktor Axelsen, the last two women’s singles Olympic champions and winner of the last two editions in Tokyo and Paris, has spoken out against the devastating toll the Games’ unforgiving schedule has taken on their bodies and minds.
Chen Yufei expressed the dire need she felt after the Tokyo win to step away from the sport and how deeply it affected her mental health, not to mention numerous knee, ankle, back, and wrist niggles. Ann Se Yong’s exposure of being treated like a machine and fielding consecutive tournaments expecting the highest title result was detrimental to the game. His treatment at his training center was abysmal, and the highest names in the sport, at their peak, did not seem to be enjoying innocent joy and innocent joy as the thought of success in mere badminton was depressed.
A left foot injury saw Axelsen have to submit medical documents to prove his withdrawal from the World Tour Finals was legitimate if he did not want to seek a penalty. It is mandatory for top names to attend the BWF’s headlining events, or they invite financial penalties. And while it’s understandable why the BWF would demand it – big names only participate with the money if they feature in tournaments – the whole rigmarole has clearly done nothing to make badminton a better sport. The income is slightly higher, but the players are deeply unhappy.
I don’t necessarily have a “beef” with the BWF, but I am very tired of the disconnect between the players and the BWF.
Everything needs to go through the federation, but I’m an individual athlete with my own team, making my own decisions!
Some players are happy to come to the federation.
— Viktor Axelsen (@ViktorAxelsen) December 4, 2024
Beiwen Zhang, the independent American athlete who spent several years crowdfunding a career with consistent top 10 finishes, also recently suffered a mental breakdown. And in her post, she alluded to the toll of traveling for mandatory tournaments, where her routine of finding a sparring partner while being from an unorthodox shuttle nation became emotional.
But he couldn’t escape the hamster wheel of mandatory attendance at tournaments. His tenacity, and the fact that he was good enough at the sport to finish in the top 10, had turned into an ugly curse. She loved badminton but hated what it was doing to her.
The top male Chinese player found himself in such a funk a few years ago that he lifted his leg for the camera to focus on his leg after losing in the title final, showing the world a large, flat, bleeding skin. He was exiled for a year, came back very humble, and the coaches seem to have taken it easy on him since he didn’t force him to play, while Chen Yufei was positively looked after by China and came back very happy even though he didn’t win. a lot
But whether it’s an entrenched, uncaring capitalist system in the US, or China’s tight communist coalition structures, Malaysia or Denmark or Korea, the sheer pressure of the game schedule is pushing the shutterbugs into the darkest and saddest corners.
Badminton – known for its intellectual immersion, intricate tricks and beautiful games, is deeply unsettling to its practitioners. Just the constant traveling can trigger a tearful breakdown even among the young newcomers at the top 20 level.
Cases are all different, requiring deeper solutions than just troubleshooting. The injuries, the isolation of the rehabilitation, the insecurity when away from the circuit, the only repeated knees that refuse to heal quickly and leave at a critical moment, like for Carolina to be killed in two Olympics, it makes the players extremely painful.
This is not unique to badminton. Both football and tennis undergo gruesome scheduling – packed matches to squeeze the last ounce of talent out of the athletes, and give them the illusion of earning more money in return. But if one takes a step back and looks at the scene, mental health struggles driven by injuries and inhumane schedules are killing the sport.
For years now, top players have practically balanced their priorities by targeting specific titles. A champion from the previous week, losing in the first round next Wednesday is not unheard of, although many naive fans have seen the inconsistency and outrage on social media – adding to the players’ grief.
Overall, the entire caravan of top names moves from the Super 500 to the Super 750 to the Super 1000, it’s mandated, and performances get adjusted factoring in the odds of injury – pushing the boundaries on the court while avoiding the aggravation of swallows. But it’s all ridiculous – dragging players into this pretense of participating, just for appearances, knowing they have to balance injuries with continuity.
Maybe badminton needs 4 slams like tennis, with a 64-player draw, and its annual world championships, with huge prize money. Or 6 at the most, to ensure that the really big titles aren’t won by sheer elimination of injured, half-hearted, bone bruised opponents. But even those may not be mandatory if you want to truly compete with the top names – fit and reasonably happy. The next row can have its own level of tournaments to collect points.
Forcing players to return doesn’t work for the game. Making them pay a penalty for losing is making them miserable – the prize money is not something that even the armchair sloth disciplines like tennis or golf or chess or e-sports offer their players. Shuttlers are relatively poor and overworked.
And yes, Viktor Axelsen should have the right not to play the tournament because he doesn’t feel like it. There is no doctor in this world, no doctor’s certificate that can certify that an athlete feels fit and ready to take on the world.