When a Nation Plays as One

Reimagining Victory

By Victor Gurung, Media & Technical Lead Consultant. This feature column represents my personal reflections drawn. It is offered as a thoughtful contemplation and is not intended to harm, criticize, or cast judgment on any individual or organization.

Victory — such a simple word, yet its meaning runs far deeper than a medal or a scoreboard. For Bhutan, victory is a shared heartbeat — the story of our people, our spirit, and the unbreakable ties that bind us through sport.

Over many years walking alongside Bhutan’s sporting journey, I have witnessed how sport reflects our values, our dreams, and above all, our unity. When a nation plays as one, victory becomes a collective triumph — a pulse of hope, resilience, and boundless possibility.

Picture thousands of feet pounding mountain trails, arrows flying under ancient skies, or young hands gripping a football with fierce determination — not just for themselves, but for every face watching, believing.

This rhythm connects a farmer in Paro, a student in Thimphu, a coach in Phuentsholing, and a child in Trashiyangtse. It is the pulse that says: We are one.

At the 2024 Paris Olympics, Kinzang Lhamo carried Bhutan’s flag through the marathon. Though she finished last, she captured the world’s heart. People cheered not for speed, but for courage — embodying Bhutan’s spirit of perseverance and humility. She redefined victory for our nation.

I still remember watching Rigzin Chodra cross the finish line at the Dantak Open Bike Race 2025. The crowd clapped and cheered, but Rigzin himself barely raised his arms. There was no grand celebration, just a tired smile and a quiet nod — as if to say, “I did what I came here to do.”

He had just completed a grueling 100-kilometre course, twisting through the hills and valleys of Bhutan. And yet, what moved me most wasn’t that he won. It was knowing how he got there.

Rigzin trains every single day. No fanfare. No spotlight. Just a young man waking up before most of us, getting on his bike, and riding through cold winds, steep climbs, and empty roads. He’s not just chasing victory — he’s chasing better. A better version of himself. A better future. And maybe, quietly, he’s carrying the hopes of many others too.

He told me once, “I don’t ride to win. I ride because I want to see how far I can go.”

That stayed with me.

Sport as a Mirror of Our Values

His Majesty The King teaches us that progress is not just economic — it is about dignity, unity, and happiness. Bhutanese sport reflects these ideals.

At the South Asia Youth Judo Tournament in Thimphu, our young judokas won 23 medals. These medals represent more than talent; they are testaments to community, discipline, and belief in youth. When a nation invests together, it cultivates role models, leaders, and dreams.

Cycling too is part of our story. The rugged mountain roads are now training grounds for athletes and adventurers worldwide. A partnership between the Bhutan Olympic Committee and Aurora Group heralds a new era where sport blends with tourism and sustainability — a testament to Bhutan’s evolving spirit.

Victory Is Collective

Victory is never the work of one. It is born in the quiet sacrifices of parents who walk their children to early morning training, in coaches who stay after hours correcting technique, in neighbors who lend their voices from the sidelines, and in communities who believe — sometimes more than the athletes themselves.

Think of the young judokas who represented Bhutan at the South Asia Youth Judo Tournament in Thimphu. They didn’t win those 23 medals alone. Behind every medal was a school that gave them space to train, friends who stood by them when they lost, and families who stretched thin budgets to buy their first uniforms.

One of the boys, I remember, came from a remote village. He had never been on a podium before. But when he bowed at the end of his match and tears welled in his eyes — it wasn’t about the gold around his neck. It was the weight of every person who had helped him get there.

That’s the kind of victory we believe in. The kind that’s not just measured by what’s around the neck, but by what’s been poured into the heart.

This spirit of togetherness is Bhutan’s way. It reminds us that no success happens in isolation — that behind every individual achievement, there’s a circle of people who lifted them higher, step by step. Every effort, every cheer, every word of encouragement — it all matters. It all adds up.

Reimagining Victory for Bhutan’s Future

To reimagine victory in Bhutan is to look beyond podiums and medals. It is to see sport as a path to empowerment, education, health, and unity — especially in the lives of our children.

I’ve visited school programs across the country, and no matter the size of the playground or the condition of the facilities, I’ve seen one thing in common: a quiet, persistent effort to grow — together.

There’s Sonam, a 12-year-old runner from a school in a remote village. Her shoes are too big — a hand-me-down from her cousin — but she trains anyway, every evening after school. Her friends time her laps using the stopwatch on a cracked mobile phone. Her teacher writes basic drills on the blackboard. Her mother, who never ran a race in her life, packs her a boiled egg and some suja for post-training.

Sonam may never win gold — or maybe she will. But what matters is this: she is learning to believe in herself. That is victory.

Then there’s Namgay, a volleyball player , who sets up the net for his team before sunrise. They don’t have a professional coach, but they learn by watching YouTube clips together in the classroom after hours. They push each other, cheer each other, and when someone gets discouraged, the whole team gathers around to lift them back up.

Their training is imperfect. But their unity? Flawless.

There’s a boy named Kezang. He doesn’t say much, and most people wouldn’t notice him in a crowd. He was born with a physical disability — the kind that makes simple movements a little slower, a little harder.

But the first time he held a rifle at the shooting range, something changed. He was unsure at first — nervous, almost apologetic. The gun felt heavy, and his balance wasn’t perfect. But he stayed. Quietly, patiently, he kept coming back.

Day after day, round after round, he learned to trust his hands, steady his breath, and block out the noise around him. Slowly, you could see something shift — not just in his posture, but in his presence. The boy who once stood unsure at the back of the group now stands beside others, showing them how to line up a shot or gently reminding them to breathe before they pull the trigger.

For Kezang, shooting isn’t just a sport.
It’s a place where he doesn’t feel less than anyone else.
Where he isn’t defined by what he can’t do, but by what he chooses to do — with focus, with calm, and with quiet determination.

You don’t hear him boast. But if you watch closely, you’ll see it — a quiet pride in his eyes. And maybe that’s what real victory looks like.

These stories play out quietly every day — in school grounds, village fields, crowded gyms, and borrowed spaces across Bhutan. And behind each story is an entire ecosystem working in silence:

The sports federations and associations who stretch limited resources to bring equipment, training, and hope to remote corners of the country.
The teachers and PE instructors who stay long after school hours to coach, encourage, and believe.
The friends who become teammates and motivators.
The families who make space for dreams even when life is hard — who may not understand every rule, but show up and clap anyway.
The Bhutan Olympic Committee, weaving all of these threads together into a fabric that holds our young athletes, our culture, and our future.

To reimagine victory is to see that each goal scored, each lap run, each match played is never truly an individual achievement. It is the sum of collective care — of a system, a circle, a nation playing together.

It’s about what happens before the game begins — the early morning practices, the shared water bottles, the emotional huddles, the silent prayers.

The Bhutan Olympic Committee envisions a future where every child in Bhutan — from highland villages to city centers — has the right and opportunity to discover their potential through sport. Where every sports federation has the support it needs to grow, and where sport becomes not a privilege, but a pillar of national wellbeing.

When we do this, we don’t just raise athletes — we raise confident, healthy, connected citizens. We give our youth a voice. We give them strength. We show them that no dream is too small, and no child is too far away to matter.

And in doing so, we redefine what it means to win.

Because in Bhutan, when one of us rises, we all rise.