We are a proud nation. We celebrate when our athletes march at international games. We feel goosebumps when our flag is raised. We post messages that say “So proud of our team!” when they return, win or lose. We mean it. But sometimes, that pride is hollow—not because we don’t care, but because we care after, not before. We love to watch, but hesitate to support.

How often have we heard—or maybe even said—things like:

“Let them win something first.”
“They always lose.”
“Maybe next time.”
“They’re not at the level we’re hoping for.”

And while these words come easily, they weigh heavily. Because behind each of them is a quiet refusal to participate in the building of a dream.

Champions don’t emerge fully formed.
They are built—step by step, mistake by mistake, loss by loss, belief by belief.
No athlete becomes a hero overnight. No team becomes a powerhouse in silence.

When we withhold support until success comes, we are asking for fruit from a tree we never watered. We forget that it is not victory that deserves investment. It is effort. It is commitment. It is heart.

Every athlete in Bhutan who dares to dream is already carrying more than their weight. They are not just fighting opponents. They are fighting doubt. They are fighting scarcity. They are fighting a system still trying to find its feet.

And this is not a blame. It is a truth. A truth we must all face—not with guilt, but with action.

To the everyday citizens reading this—teachers, farmers, civil servants, business owners, students, parents, artists—this is your story too. You may not be the one crossing the finish line, but you can be the reason someone does.

Support isn’t always about grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s a pair of shoes. A shared meal. A small sponsorship. A chance. A connection. A word of encouragement. A post that highlights a local athlete. A helping hand when no one is watching.

Because our athletes don’t just need stadiums. They need us.

Let’s not make them feel that they carry the nation’s name alone. Let’s not show up only at the end, when the lights are bright and the photos are ready. Let’s be there in the early morning, in the losses, in the broken moments, in the quiet battles—the parts the world doesn’t see.

To say “I support Bhutanese sports” is easy.
But to show it—to put effort, time, and resources behind those words—is where real change begins.

This is not a guilt trip. This is a gentle awakening.

If we want to see Bhutan rise in international arenas, we must start at home. In our homes, schools, workplaces, and communities. We must shift our mindset—from “Are they worth it?” to “What can we do to lift them?”

This is what One For All means.
It means recognising that greatness is a shared effort.
It means that every medal, every milestone, every flag raised, has fingerprints beyond the athlete.
It belongs to the coach who believed. The friend who donated. The teacher who motivated. The stranger who didn’t look away.

It belongs to you, if you choose to be part of it.

The next time you see a young athlete training alone, remember:
They may not be the best in the world yet.
But with you behind them—they might just get there.

Let’s not wait for the podium.
Let’s build it.

Together.
For Bhutan.
One for all.