Sanya, China, April 30, 2026: Beach sports are usually treated with mild dismissiveness. “Sport on sand” followed by a snigger, as if it’s a sideshow rather than the main event.
I’ll admit, I used to be one of the sceptics. but it didn’t take long for the sand to get under my skin.
While the word “beach” suggests a holiday, the reality is different. You are witness to a theatre of raw, unfiltered emotion. I saw the tears flow out of Hassan Ajamibakhtiarvandsame, the Iranian shot put gold medallist, a man built like a mountain, shoulders broad enough to carry the world, crumble on to the sand. The weight he carried wasn’t just the iron ball but the hopes of an entire nation in turmoil. It also makes me wonder that it’s wrong to believe that sports is an escape. It’s not. It’s probably the only space they are allowed to stand and fight for something other than survival.
I was also reminded of Iranian poet Ahmad Shamlou’s iconic 1955 poem, Omi, in which he wrote: “The Mountain is not separate from the Earth.” Hassan's tears weren’t for the gold. He was carrying the emotional upheaval of his nation even on a beach in Sanya!
Contrast it with the delighted jump in the air, the pure ecstasy from a 50kg Sri Lankan wrestler, Hewa Pedige, her first international medal, that you’d find in any Olympic stadium; later she put the gold medal around her coach’s neck and touched his feet. Emotion.
To watch the Aquathlon was to see athletes in their absolute prime; to watch water polo on a reduced court was to witness a match in a blender. Kabaddi was pure, rhythmic energy, and the Qatari pair turned beach volleyball into a rock & roll spectacle. But the true heart of the tournament was wrestling. I watched the Iranian coaches screaming, egging on their grapplers as if the world championship hung in the balance - tied on points, five seconds on the clock, and hearts pounding in the heat.
However, the most profound lesson wasn't found in the scorecards. Watching athletes from Palestine, Iran and Lebanon compete while their nations burn is a lesson in doggedness, humanity needs to learn. In these moments, the sand becomes a balm, a place where athletes from fractured lands can win and lose together.
I marvelled at their composure. Most of us feel a surge of anxiety if a flight is delayed; these competitors live in a reality where every ring of their phone could be bad news from home. Their grit puts our daily stresses into perspective.
I can see a future where the Asian Beach Athletics Championships stands alone under the OCA. We respect the complexity of tennis because it moves from hard court to clay and grass; why should sand be any different? It is a shifting, demanding surface that requires a unique skill set. It would be a thrill to one day read that an athlete won the “60m World Championship title on sand” four consecutive times.
Sand is our most natural, least expensive resource. It is a gamechanger. For a fan, watching a world-class duel with the deep blue horizon as a backdrop isn't just a “beach day,” it is the purest sight in sport.