Courting Controversy: Every GOAT needs a shepherd

fiasco

/fiˈaskəʊ/

noun

noun: fiasco; plural noun: fiascos

1. a complete failure, especially a ludicrous or humiliating one.

When Lionel Messi arrived in Kolkata for his GOAT tour, the expectation was celebration. What followed can only be described as a fiasco. Not having seen their idol, the angry crowd ripped the seats and flung water bottles across the pitch, with the damage caused by the vandalisation of the Salt Lake Stadium estimated at over two crore rupees. The politics of the Chief Minister’s apology, the partiality alleged in the Special Investigation Team (SIT) set up and the propriety of VIP culture quickly took centre stage in the media coverage surrounding the event. Heads rolled and arrests happened. But those are not the heart of the problem, because crowd failures are neither rare nor uniquely Indian.

Large events create economic momentum across tourism, hospitality, retail, media and sponsorship. Indeed, Messi’s presence in India marked a meaningful step in India’s sporting journey, reinforcing its place as a host of global sporting talent and as a participant in the international sports economy. Such moments shape how brands, leagues and federations engage with a country, and their value extends well beyond a single event. Given the economic and symbolic weight that such events carry for a nation, the response to failure must be measured rather than impulsive. That is why the swift arrest of Satadru Dutta, promoter and organiser of Messi’s GOAT India Tour 2025, necessitates an important conversation about the scope of an organiser’s legal responsibility in managing large public events.

Event organisation depends on layered coordination between police, local authorities, private security, venue operators and political stakeholders. In this matrix, the organiser functions akin to a shepherd, guiding the event’s direction, anticipating pressure points and ensuring that enthusiasm does not spill into disorder. Even with careful planning, disorder remains a foreseeable possibility and responsible organisers plan with that inevitability in mind.

However, it is when criminal process and financial exposure appear sudden and open-ended after such disorder that the appetite to organise shrinks. This concern deepens with the official confirmation that ticket refunds will be provided to attendees of the Kolkata event. Whether such refunds are justified on the facts is a separate question. What is undeniable is that refunds at scale can carry severe financial consequences for organisers operating on narrow margins. The real issue is not the existence of liability, but the absence of certainty around its extent.

Indian law offers little structure on this front. There is no dedicated legislation or regulatory framework governing the liability of sporting event organisers for crowd safety and management. By contrast, jurisdictions such as the United Kingdom and the United States combine legal accountability with detailed administrative guidance. Courts readily impose responsibility where harm is caused. But this is paired with clear guidance that tells organisers what reasonable care demands in advance.

In the United Kingdom, the Health and Safety Executive (HSE) publishes the Purple Guide, which provides a practical framework for crowd safety across event types and scales, while also outlining the legal environment organisers operate within. This is supplemented by another HSE publication, the Event Safety Guide, which focuses on operational planning and emphasises coordination with police, emergency services and local authorities.

The question of ticket refunds also deserves equal attention. This issue arises not only when events descend into chaos, but also when the central promise of an event is not delivered. In Kolkata, many fans complained that they could barely catch a glimpse of their idol because his appearance was cut short. Where an event is built around a celebrity’s presence, such grievances carry legal and ethical significance. Comparative jurisprudence reflects this reality.

For instance, courts in Shanghai have ordered partial ticket refunds where stadium design obstructed views. Indeed, even the Supreme Court in New York has previously accepted arguments that there exists an implied agreement between the purchaser and seller of the tickets, that the seats should be so situated that the purchaser will be able to experience not just the audible aspect of the live concert, but also its visual aspect. These decisions point to a more nuanced approach - one that recognises tiered refunds and acknowledges that certain core expectations may be implied into a ticket when the central promise of the event is impaired. For India, the answer is thus not in bold promises of full refunds made under public pressure. What is needed is a more deliberate refund framework that accounts for foreseeable disruptions and gives both fans and organisers a clear point of reference when expectations are not met.

The lesson from Kolkata is not that India should temper its sporting ambitions or that of hosting events. It is, however, of defining the responsibility of the organisers with greater care. Organisers will continue to take risks when the boundaries of responsibility are clear and when financial exposure is not left to be discovered in the aftermath of chaos. Economic confidence follows legal certainty, and with it comes the quiet transformation of India into a mature destination, capable of hosting the world without losing control of the ground beneath its feet.

Nakul Dewan is a Senior Advocate and King’s Counsel.