‘Real Kashmir Football Club' review: Drama series revels in shared triumph

Real Kashmir Football Club, the Sony LIV series directed by Mahesh Mathai and Rajesh Mapuskar, draws its inspiration from a real-life story. The club was born in the aftermath of the devastating 2014 Kashmir floods, when journalist and former footballer Shamim Mehraj and entrepreneur Sandeep Chattoo began distributing footballs to local youth as a way to restore routine and purpose. This humanitarian gesture soon evolved into the founding of the region’s first professional football club. Formed in 2016, Real Kashmir FC was built to compete competitively but to also offer structure, dignity, and representation in a place shaped by uncertainty. The club’s rise through Indian football became a story with global resonance.

The eight-episode series, written by Simaab Hashmi, Umang Vyas, Dhruv Narang, Danish Renzu, and Mathai, uses this journey as its foundation, framing football as both aspiration and anchor.

The show unfolds as a quiet, straightforward sports drama that values honesty over spectacle. Rather than pushing for big dramatic moments, Real Kashmir Football Club stays close to everyday realities, letting practical challenges, such as tight budgets, infrastructure, disrupted schedules and shifting priorities, shape the story.

Journalist Sohail (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub) believes that a local football team will help unite Kashmir, restore positive national attention; instil discipline, routine, and belief in the players, and respect and pride among the supporters. Sohail finds an ally and patron in liquor trader Shirish (Manav Kaul) who is settling back into life in Kashmir after having fled during the attacks on Kashmiri Pandits. They recruit local coach Mustafa (Muazzam Bhat) to lead the team, but Mustafa faces his own personal and professional challenges—particularly his conflict with star player Azlan Shah (Anmol Dhillon Thakeria).

Kaul and Ayyub anchor the series with restrained and quietly compelling performances. These are men of action and understatement, committed even when frustrated and challenged. Their performances ground the series, lending it emotional credibility even when the writing leans on familiar beats. While the trajectory is familiar, and there is no dearth of underdog sports drama tropes in Real Kashmir Football Club, the show feels honest, helped by the sincerity of the actors and the show’s gentle but steady progression towards transformation.

The series mostly resists sensationalising Kashmir’s realities, but through the hard-line politician Nazir (Adhir Bhat) the script comments on how misinformation and lack of awareness can mislead the naïve. This is primarily illustrated through the arc of Amaan (Abhishant Rana), Nazir’s protégé, whose attitude and life change when he is given opportunity and responsibility at the fledgling club.

The supporting characters, especially the rest of the squad and the women in the lives of these men—wives, mothers and sisters, are sketched with varying degrees of depth. Not everyone gets a fully formed arc, but collectively they create a believable ecosystem of aspirations: some chasing professional recognition, others financial stability and a few simply seeking a sense of belonging. Their camaraderie is not built up greatly, unlike sports dramas and comedies like Ted Lasso, Friday Night Lights, Remember the Titans and Chak De India.

Visually, the show presents a mixed picture. Kashmir’s natural beauty is undeniable. However, the framing of shots is frequently conservative and, at times, unimaginative. Wide shots often emphasize empty backgrounds and unused spaces. The football matches themselves are staged with realism rather than flamboyance, feeling more amateur than representative of a professional team in the making. The production often feels stripped-back, an approach that adds to the show’s sense of honesty, but it also slows things down. The matches don’t always deliver the rush you expect from a sports drama. There are no big narrative hooks here, but the series makes up for that with warmth, optimism, and an easy watchability.

What’s at stake goes beyond winning matches or trophies. The team’s very existence is about continuity, dignity, and visibility in a region shaped by conflict, where even organising a match can feel uncertain. That context gives weight to the familiar sports tropes, stopping them from feeling empty.

In the end, Real Kashmir Football Club doesn’t stretch itself stylistically, but its sincerity, strong central performances, and clear affection for its setting carry it through. This feel-good sports drama is built around familiar underdog beats—a team written off early, enduring internal tensions, experiencing growing belief, and reveling in shared triumph, becoming unlikely heroes who defy expectation.

Udita Jhunjhunwala is a Goa-based critic and curator.