Sydney Sweeney’s “Just Sports” ad for Novig has made the argument unavoidable. The actor appears almost nude, covering herself with footballs, basketballs and hockey sticks while repeating the line “just sports.” India has lived with a quieter version of the same trade. IPL still packages cheerleaders as part of the night’s entertainment. Condom and lubricant spots have run through India–South Africa and India–Pakistan broadcasts, turning family living rooms into an interval of innuendo. On Instagram, a squat filmed from behind still travels farther than a clean cover drive. The contradiction is sharpest around the women who actually win. Smriti Mandhana, Harmanpreet Kaur, Jemimah Rodrigues, Shafali Verma and Deepti Sharma now sell brands that once belonged only to Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma. P V Sindhu and Saina Nehwal did the same in badminton; Mary Kom, Nikhat Zareen and Lovlina Borgohain in boxing; Vinesh Phogat and Sakshi Malik in wrestling; Mirabai Chanu in weightlifting; Rani Rampal and Savita Punia in hockey. The better work: Nike’s “Da Da Ding,” Gatorade’s sweat-and-gold films with Sindhu, shows the grimace after a long rally, not a pose. The weaker work still frames the same athletes as lifestyle accessories: glowing, smiling, rarely exhausted. Sex sells faster than a late cut or a smash. Brands chasing young male viewers treat sport as a ready-made stage and the athlete as set dressing. Young girls watching Mandhana bat or Sindhu jump see two messages at once: you can win, and you will still be looked at first. Indian sport is growing fast enough to demand better. Sell Harmanpreet’s six, Sindhu’s defence, Mary Kom’s footwork. The contest is enough. The rest is just advertising.

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