As the curtains rise on the Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games, what should be a celebration of sporting excellence is being clouded by reports of administrative chaos. Athletes sleeping on floors, delays of up to 12 hours during check-in, cramped accommodation and even cross-gender room assignments have raised serious questions about organising the premier event.
Aichi-Nagoya 2026 organising committee president Hideaki Omura had presented the decision to do away with a traditional Athletes’ Village as an innovative “model for hosting financially sustainable sporting events”. But what may have looked like prudent financial planning on paper is proving far more complicated in reality. Cutting unnecessary costs and compromising athletes’ basic welfare cannot go together.
Much of the trouble appears to stem from an accommodation model spread across conventional hotels, container-style wooden huts and even a 300-metre Italian cruise ship. Replacing expensive permanent construction with reusable container villas and existing maritime infrastructure may appear environmentally and financially sensible. From the outside, it may sound like a unique concept. But the real test is whether such an arrangement can meet the practical demands of housing nearly 17,000 elite athletes.
That is where the system appears to have faltered. When rigid numerical allocations take precedence over basic common sense, such as dividing five twin rooms strictly by numbers and pairing men and women, or putting male coaches and female athletes in cramped quarters, the model’s limits become obvious. At a major multi-sport event, privacy, safety and adequate rest cannot be treated so casually. They are fundamental requirements of sportspersons.
The absence of a central Athletes’ Village also removes one of the most important functional advantages of hosting a large sporting event. A properly planned village brings security, dining, medical facilities and transport links together in one place, while allowing athletes to remain close to training and competition venues.
Instead, athletes have been scattered across distant accommodation hubs. Rowers and table tennis players, for instance, face journeys of around 30 km to reach training venues, with some commutes taking more than an hour each way. For an elite athlete preparing for high-stakes competition, that is more than an inconvenience. Time spent in transit is time taken away from rest, recovery and preparation.
Indian, Japanese and South Korean delegations may have quietly adapted to cramped conditions or arranged alternative hotels at their own expense. But the ability of athletes and teams to cope should not be mistaken for an endorsement of the system. Nor should national committees be expected to absorb costs created by shortcomings in the host’s planning.
“Financial sustainability” is a worthwhile goal, but it cannot become a tool to transfer the burden of organisational shortcomings onto the very athletes the Games are meant to celebrate. If competitors are busy on the eve of competition dealing with accommodation and administrative problems, something has gone seriously wrong with the priorities.
Sustainability in sport is not simply about reducing construction costs or finding innovative ways to reuse existing infrastructure. It must also factor in the human side of the equation. A sporting model that saves money but compromises privacy, rest, safety and performance is not acceptable.
The true measure of a successful Games is not just what is saved on the balance sheet. It is whether athletes are given the conditions they need to perform at their best with the basic respect they deserve.
