Imagine you are a youngster growing up in India. The odds are that you are likely to idolize cricketing legend Sachin Tendulkar instead of relatively unknown Baichung Bhutia. There could even be a possibility you may have never heard of the latter and why not?

The former is one of the greatest batsmen in cricket, while the latter has reached the modest heights of playing for then Division Two side Bury in 1999. Bhutia’s seemingly modest achievement was said to be the breakthrough needed for players from the subcontinent to sign for European clubs (although Mohammed Abdul Salim, nicknamed the ‘Indian Juggler’, was the first Indian to sign for a European club when he joined Celtic in 1937 – he returned homesick after a few games despite his obvious talent (boots or barefoot)).

Yet, there is still not one Indian player playing at a high level professionally in Europe. Four million Indians (or their descendants) live in Europe, while there is huge potential from a population of 1.2 billion in India itself. There is a growing football culture in India and while it may never reach the level of popularity cricket has attained, there is huge potential for growth.

It is clear that improvements need to be made at grassroots level and in the political structures of Indian football where. The country has 28 states but only two or three have made clear steps to improve youth development.

The atmosphere of the derbies between Mohun Bagan and East Bengal in Kolkata (the former capital of British India) is reported to rival the Celtic-Rangers derby in Scotland, with 130,000 watching the match intently in the Salt Lake Stadium in 1997. While the British may have spread the football bug there, it was the Portuguese who did the same for Goa. Elsewhere the same cannot be said, as it is cricket which dominates.

And it is in Mumbai, Kolkata and Goa where the majority of the club sides of the I-league are located, due to such colonial links, meaning the talent pool being scouted fails to cover the majority of the country.

Other hindrances include the split of governing bodies for professional and youth football. The All India Football Federation (AIFF) is nominally in control of football and receives funding from FIFA. Yet the ‘Sports Authority of India’, the body governing youth development does not get any financial backing, hindering any development at grassroots level. This two-body split will continue to affect the nation reaching its full potential as interest in the game continues to grow.

Furthermore, the fact that the majority of those holding positions in such organisations as these (and those at state-level) are just power-hungry politicians instead of having a football background. Such stasis in the governing bodies of Indian football meant youth development facilities had not been improved since 1974, until the turn of the millennium (nearly 30 years!).

There was a time when India were twice Asian Games champions in the 1950s and 60s. They were invited to the 1950 World Cup in Brazil after other countries dropped out, but did not travel on cost grounds and also due to their preference to play barefoot. Now the power has shifted to the rapidly developing countries of Japan and Korea and the Middle East nations and India fail to qualify for international tournaments regularly.

Beef eaters v Bengalis (The clash that shaped Indian football) excerpt from the excellent UEFA Champions magazine

Football flourished when the British brought it to the Raj in the 19^th century – especially in West Bengal, Goa and Kerala. By the 1870s, British army teams and local clubs were burgeoning, and in 1888, India’s foreign secretary Sir Mortimer Durand established the Durand Cup – the game’s third oldest competition after the FA Cup and the Scottish Cup. But 120 years later, India is not even one of the 100 best footballing nations. What happened?

Nationalist politics in India became entwined with football in 1909, when a Bengali side, Mohun Bagan, were finally allowed to compete in the IFA shield. In 1911, they faced the East Yorkshire regiment in the final. Special trains, trams and steamboats were needed to transport local fans, and one magazine set up temporary telephone exchange to relay the result across Bengal. When Mohun won 2-1, thrilled columnist Nayak wrote:

“It fills every Indian with joy and pride that rice-eating, malarial-ridden, barefooted Bengalis have got the better of beef-eating, Herculean booted John Bull in the peculiar English sport”

Legend has it that after the match, someone pointed to a Union Jack and asked when it would come down. ‘When Mohun win the shield again’ came the reply. The club next won the trophy in 1947, the year of Indian independence.

The steady shift of power away from the British was matched by India’s gains on the pitch, yet football never became the nation’s favourite game. Why? In ‘The Ball is Round’, David Goldblatt says India was reluctant to play football against poor neighbouring teams – and that cricket, far more suited to a country dominated by its caste system, gave the new nation a chance to test itself against the Commonwealth.