Shuttlers treated like machines in a sport that never sleeps

KUALA LUMPUR: Badminton has a major problem.

And it's not a lack of talent, drama or global appeal — it's exhaustion.

The BWF's World Tour calendar for 2026 is shaping up to be less a sporting season and more a test of survival.

With 39 World Tour tournaments, not including the season-ending World Tour Finals, squeezed into a single year, the sport's elite are being asked to run a marathon at sprint pace, with barely time to breathe, let alone recover.

On paper, the numbers already look absurd.

And the top 15 singles players and top 10 pairs are effectively compelled to show up at all four Super 1000s, six Super 750s and two Super 500 tournaments.

Miss too many and the punishment is swift — ranking points vanish, seedings suffer and careers stall.

And if you don't have a valid medical certificate, BWF could sanction you for not meeting the criteria.

This does not even include the rest of the "normal" calendar — team championships, continental events and national obligations that players cannot simply wave away.

In reality, this means elite players are logging 20 to 25 tournaments a year, flying across continents, switching time zones weekly and playing high-intensity matches with bodies that never fully heal.

Badminton is not golf. It is one of the most explosive racquet sports in the world — a mix of speed, power, jumping and lunging that punishes knees, ankles, backs and shoulders.

Recovery is not optional but essential.

Yet the calendar treats rest as an inconvenience.

Just look at former world No. 1 Viktor Axelsen, who has been in and out of tournaments since winning his second straight Olympic crown at the 2024 Paris Games.

Since undergoing back surgery, he has struggled to find his footing, even withdrawing from the season-opening Malaysia Open.

Then there is current world No. 1 An Se-young, who is carrying a long-term knee injury that she simply cannot fully fix because of the demanding schedule.

And closer to home, Lee Zii Jia suffered ankle and back injuries that limited him to just five tournaments in 2025.

These examples show one simple truth — shuttlers are not machines, and they need time to recover.

That frustration finally boiled over when doubles specialist Aaron Chia spoke up.

The Olympic bronze medallist did not hide his anger or fatigue when questioning the logic of the current schedule, especially the decision to throw players straight into the Malaysia Open — a Super 1000 event — barely weeks after the World Tour Finals.

Aaron said what many players quietly admit — the season never really ends.

After grinding through more than 20 tournaments, players are given a week or two off, then expected to hit peak intensity again almost immediately.

He even questioned whether it made sense to start a new season with one of the biggest tournaments on the circuit, pointing out that players are still mentally and physically drained from the previous year.

His words were not complaints, but warnings.

Because when players are forced to compete while exhausted, something has to give.

Sometimes it's form. Sometimes it's confidence. Too often, it's the body.

We saw the consequences last season.

By the time the World Tour Finals came around in Hangzhou, many of the sport's biggest names looked empty.

Rallies lacked bite, movement looked heavy and sharpness was gone.

The men's singles title went to a French player who, no disrespect intended, simply looked fresher than others who had been ground down by a punishing calendar.

That alone should have set off alarm bells. Instead, the schedule rolls on, unchanged.

Former greats are no longer staying silent either.

Lee Wan Wah, a man who played and coached at the highest level, has openly warned that the World Tour has become too hectic, too taxing and harmful.

When legends start sounding the alarm, BWF administrators should listen.

These are people who understand the difference between hard training and reckless overuse.

The uncomfortable truth is this.

The BWF calendar rewards endurance more than excellence.

It rewards those who can survive the grind rather than those who can consistently produce world-class badminton.

That is not how elite sports should work.

Unlike in tennis, where top players can pick and choose events without destroying their careers, badminton's ranking system is unforgiving.

Skip tournaments for recovery and you slide. Slide too far and you lose protection, favourable draws and sponsorship value.

Players are boxed into a corner — play tired, or don't play and pay the price.

It's a system that quietly encourages burnout.

Mental fatigue is just as dangerous as physical breakdown.

Endless travel, constant pressure to defend points and the fear of falling behind create a suffocating environment.

When players begin to dread tournaments rather than relish them, the sport is already in trouble.

Fans may think more tournaments mean more entertainment.

But exhausted stars do not deliver great badminton.

Instead, they deliver shortened careers, recurring injuries and withdrawals that weaken the sport's biggest events.

This trajectory is not sustainable.

If nothing changes, the next few years will bring more chronic injuries, more early retirements and fewer stars lasting long enough to become legends.

Younger players will be rushed into the same cycle, learning early that success comes at the cost of longevity.

Badminton does not need a bloated calendar. It needs restraint.

The tour needs fewer mandatory events and a proper off-season.

Real recovery windows that do not come with punishment. A calendar built around human limits, not broadcast slots.

Because if the BWF continues down this path, it risks destroying the very thing it is trying to grow.

When the best players are running on empty, the sport loses its shine.

And when exhaustion becomes the norm, greatness doesn't stand a chance.

Despite the tiring calendar, this scribe still hopes to see a Malaysian shuttler lift the home title at the Axiata Arena this weekend.