When the Physical Meets the Digital: Behind the Scenes of the So-Called Phygital

It is in this context that the concept of Phygital arises, presented as a fusion between physical and digital competitions — a hybrid that promises to unite distinct worlds in a single competitive spectacle.

At first glance, the fascination is understandable: something that looks innovative, capable of attracting youth, engaging audiences, and showing that the future may lie in the mixture between body and code. But a closer reading reveals that behind the shiny surface there are geopolitical interests, economic dilemmas, governance risks, and a major question mark about its viability as a legitimate sporting category. This so-called innovation risks further fragmenting the already fragile esports ecosystem, diverting crucial investments and attention away from legitimizing esports at a critical juncture when the sector is still in its early steps toward global acceptance.  

The Immediate Shine of the Mix

Phygital was conceived for entertainment. It presents itself in two stages: first, a digital contest, usually played on simulators or video games; then, the corresponding physical match, in courts, tracks, or fields. The audience follows two parallel narratives while athletes are tested both cognitively and physically.

There is no doubt that the format works well as an audiovisual spectacle. It directly dialogues with the logic of contemporary broadcasts, which seek immersive, multi-platform experiences. It is “made for TV and streaming,” as its own promoters describe. For sponsors and governments, it sounds like innovation ready to be sold. But is it really more than that? Critics argue that such hybrids exacerbate existing perception problems in esports, where legitimacy is already questioned due to a lack of physical demands, potentially undermining efforts to integrate digital sports into mainstream recognition.

An Origin That Speaks for Itself

To understand the rise of Phygital, one must go back to 2022. With the war in Ukraine came international sanctions against Russia: exclusion of national teams in sports such as volleyball and basketball, restrictions on athletes in Olympic events, and even limitations in esports. Russia suddenly found itself cut off from the international sporting stage.

The response came in 2024, in Kazan, with the Games of the Future — an inaugural event with around 2,000 athletes, 21 disciplines, and a state budget estimated at US$ 58 million. Born as an alternative hybrid between physical and digital sport, Phygital was used as an instrument of soft power, a gesture of resistance to geopolitical isolation.

The logic was clear: if the world closed its doors in traditional sport and in esports, Russia would merge the two and create its own new platform. But this raises a fundamental question: how long will the Russian state’s financial support last? The first edition was held in 2024, but by 2025 the event had already moved abroad (Abu Dhabi), and in 2026 it is scheduled for Kazakhstan. This signals not expansion, but a gradual shift away from Russian centrality, perhaps even early signs of budget contraction. This geopolitical maneuvering only adds to the disruption, as it introduces political tensions into an already divided esports landscape, where international cooperation is essential for growth but now risks being overshadowed by sanctioned origins.

Moreover, the numbers themselves raise eyebrows. To hold national-level phygital events, organizers ask for investments on the order of US$ 10 million — an amount that borders on the absurd given the lack of legitimacy, governance, and sustainability. Such sums only reinforce the suspicion that this is more political spectacle than genuine sport. These inflated costs could siphon resources from esports initiatives that are struggling for funding, creating unnecessary competition for limited investments in digital sports development.

The Hidden Cost of Novelty

Mixing physical and digital does not reduce costs — it multiplies them. A Phygital competition requires:

• Complete physical arenas (courts, tracks, stadiums).
• Licensed digital simulators, subject to updates, software costs, and intellectual property limitations.
• Hybrid broadcasting — with teams capable of filming both the physical and digital, integrating them into a single transmission.
• Dual refereeing, requiring judges on the field and digital specialists to guarantee integrity.
• Complex integrity protocols, uniting anti-doping for physical sport with anti-cheat systems for the digital.

The result is a cost per athlete and per event that often exceeds both traditional sports and esports. And without recognized federative backing, it is hard to justify this spending in terms of development, grassroots growth, or elite competition. Furthermore, governance issues such as platform fragmentation and transparency problems in virtual sports amplify these costs, making phygital even less viable and potentially deterring investors from supporting established esports structures.

Sponsors, for their part, are cautious. Global brands avoid associating themselves with events tied to regions under sanction or to organizations without clear governance. Unsurprisingly, the Games of the Future were not covered by recognized global audience metrics, precisely because of these reputational risks. This caution extends to the broader esports community, where phygital's emergence could fragment sponsorship opportunities, dividing attention and funds that are vital for consolidating esports' legitimacy.

Table of Costs and Requirements for Phygital Competitions

Entertainment or Sport?

One of the most common arguments from Phygital defenders is that it could bring young people closer to physical practice, attracting those who live in front of screens. The narrative is appealing: “if we cannot pull them away from games, let’s bring games into physical sport.”

But experience shows that without curricula, trained teachers, and clear metrics, this proposal dissolves into mere show. It does not become public policy, it does not create a development pathway, it does not generate continuity. What remains is entertainment, not legitimate sport. In fact, phygital risks perpetuating negative stereotypes about gaming, such as addiction and psychosocial issues, which already hinder esports' acceptance as a legitimate sport.

This is where the comparison with Digital/Virtual Sports becomes inevitable. Cycling simulators, motorsport, basketball, and even winter sports have already been adopted by federations and recognized by the International Olympic Committee in events like the Olympic Virtual Series and the Olympic Esports Week. These formats have governance, institutional dialogue, and real integration with sports policies. Phygital, in contrast, is a stage product — and therein lies its fragility. Intellectual property disputes in esports further complicate phygital's integration, as game publishers' control creates barriers that distract from building unified governance in digital sports.

Another parallel must be stressed: in the debate on intellectual property, I have argued that a publisher owns the game, but not the sport. The same applies to Phygital: whoever finances and controls the show does not automatically create legitimacy. A game is a cultural product; for the practice to be sport, it needs governance, calendars, federations, and integration with public policy. Without these, phygital serves as a disruptive force, sowing confusion and division in the esports movement that has fought hard for recognition.

Table of Comparison between Phygital, Esports, and Digital/Virtual Sports

The Risk of False Ownership

The advance of Phygital has also brought political distortions. In many regions, fragile entities — often with no real representativeness — began presenting themselves as “owners” of the model. Some were expelled from continental federations, or never had legitimacy in the sporting system, but use the rhetoric of innovation to manipulate governments, attract resources, and exclude opponents.

This follows the same pattern I have long denounced as the “One Man Show”: organizations centered around one individual, without calendars, without rankings, without documentary legitimacy. They appear when convenient, claim to represent athletes who do not exist, and legitimize themselves through weak certificates from questionable international bodies.

Phygital, by its very unstructured nature, has become fertile ground for this opportunism. And the consequences are clear: dispersal of resources, frustration of athletes, confusion for sponsors, and governments misled by façade entities. Even worse, it empowers exactly those who deliver nothing to the ecosystem, but gain political leverage through participation in Phygital, damaging the broader esports and digital sports movement more than what already existed. Prominent integrity challenges, including illegal betting, gender issues, doping, and safeguarding concerns, are exacerbated in phygital contexts, further eroding trust in emerging sports.

Where It Might Have Some Use

None of this means that Phygital has no space. It can be useful in specific contexts:

• As a media product in fairs, festivals, and special broadcasts.
• As a complementary educational platform, provided it is embedded in consistent programs of digital and physical inclusion.
• As an experimental format to test new broadcasting technologies, sensors, augmented reality, or data integration.

However, to avoid falling into the trap of empty entertainment, I insist that any hybrid use must be anchored in serious educational programs. In the CPCW – Changing the People, Changing the World project, we have shown that it is possible to integrate technology and physical practice into after-school programs, with metrics, curricula, and real impact. This is the path: turning audiences into protagonists, not just consumers. Yet, even in these limited roles, phygital must not distract from the core efforts to legitimize esports, where psychological issues like depression, aggression, and sleep disturbances already pose significant hurdles.

There is also a regulatory path: establishing Charters of Coexistence between publishers, federations, and promoters, defining Playbooks with clear rules per title, requiring post-event reports with transparent metrics, and instituting a Responsible Event Seal that unites ESG, integrity, and athlete protection. In this way, innovation can be guaranteed without giving up legal certainty and institutional trust. Without such safeguards, phygital risks amplifying existing criticisms of esports as lacking physical skill or true athleticism, further dividing the community.

Table of Pros, Cons, and Potential Uses of Phygital

A Future in Dispute

Market numbers show there is enthusiasm. Consultancies already estimate Phygital at more than US$ 1.5 billion in 2024/25, with projections of rapid growth. But these are estimates tied more to hype than to governance reality. Without a recognized global federation, without integrated integrity protocols, and without educational foundations, it is difficult to imagine long-term sustainability. This hype-driven growth could inadvertently disrupt esports by pulling investments into unproven hybrids, at a time when esports needs focused consolidation to address societal impacts like health and inclusivity concerns.

Meanwhile, Esports and Digital/Virtual Sports continue to consolidate. They already dialogue with the Olympic Movement, attract major brands, and generate public policies in various countries. They are the ones that truly represent the hybrid sporting future — not through empty spectacle, but through the integration of technology, governance, and purpose. Phygital's intrusion threatens this progress by introducing unnecessary divisions and theoretical debates over virtuality and simulation that question the very essence of digital sports.

Here, a local example is instructive: in Brazil, the General Sports Law (Law 14.597/2023), especially its articles 18 and 18-A, requires collegiate governance, athlete commissions, and transparency for access to public resources. It is not global, but it illustrates the principle: legitimacy depends on governance and participation, not on spectacle. Phygital, in contrast, has no equivalent structure anywhere in the world.

What Really Matters

Phygital may shine as a momentary spectacle, but it cannot replace what is already consolidated. It is a stage of occasion, not a system. A political experiment, not a public policy.

Recognizing this difference is essential. The true future of hybrid sport does not lie in projects born out of sanctions or geopolitical disputes. It lies in the solid integration of technology and governance, in the construction of educational and inclusive systems, and in dialogue with recognized federations and the Olympic Movement. Phygital's disruptive nature only compounds the challenges esports faces, from health myths to legitimacy battles, distracting from the real work of building a unified, respected digital sports ecosystem.

While Phygital presents itself as novelty, Esports and Digital/Virtual Sports have already proven their legitimacy. They are more than spectacle: they are the real path to development, inclusion, and elite performance. If we want legacy instead of fireworks, we must invest where there is legal, educational, and institutional foundation. Phygital can occupy its space as a format of content; Esports and Digital/Virtual Sports must remain the pillars of the future. To me Phygital is the art of misunderstanding both sports and esports, and monetizing the confusion.