Money changes everything!

FIFA Uncovered (2022)
Miniseries (Netflix; 4 episodes)
Direction: Daniel Gordon.

It is the same story all the time. Something starts small with noble intentions but ends up filled with filth so much that it hits the ceiling so high that its stench fills up to high heaven.

We are aware of the Indian Congress Party, which the British Raj established to give the natives a false sense of control of their administration, who steered the nation towards self-rule and have, over the decades, become a self-destructive political party. In the 21st century, its place in society is suspect. 

In the same vein, UMNO (United Malay National Organisation), which had a pivotal role in claiming independence from the British, is now a power-hungry, corruption-ridden tyrant out to mill the country. 

Of course, naysayers would insist that these parties were connivingly handed the rein of the country purposefully. The British still wanted to hold the purse strings of their former colonies and exert a stronghold on how their economies should be steered whilst ensuring their own interest.

In the same way, FIFA started as a genuinely non-profit entity with the noble intention of wanting to improve football standards around Europe. Over the years, when money got intertwined in the equation, it grew too big for its boots. Soon everything had a price, from advertising to sponsorship to hosting to even a vote for a seat in the executive committee.

The path to hell is paved with good intentions. In 1974, a Brazilian industrialist, João Havelange, decided to incorporate business into this body. Their bank accounts became fatter and fatter. Other governing bodies (CONCACAF, AFC, OFC, CONMEBOL) from different parts of the world soon joined suit. With an obedient general, Sepp Platter, promoting the game to the remotest part of the world, their coffers grew. Contribution from the sponsors did not reach their intended targets but allegedly lined the FIFA officials. 

In their zest to stay in power in FIFA, officials were bribed to buy votes. Over the years, investigative journalists exposed their shenanigans in the open. The coup de grace came to light with the awarding of the 2018 and 2022 hosting of the World Cup by Russia and Qatar, respectively. One by one, the ugly crimes of the heads of various soccer bodies were uncovered. FBI came into the picture. James Warner of the Carribeans, Charles Blazer of the USA and 14 executive committee members of FIFA were implicated in vote buying and widespread corruption within organised games. 

FIFA is run like a Mafia-like establishment. Sepp Platter is portrayed as the godfather of what is supposed to be a charitable body to genuinely promote the game of soccer. At one point, Platter is even accused of having narcissistic tendencies, harbouring the intention of wanting to receive the Nobel Peace Prize!

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Mix and Match!

 Rempat (Wander, Malay; 2015)

This is a fun, no-brainer movie that combines all the idiosyncrasies that make Malaysia Malaysia. There is the popular Mamak shop, an odd Malay-Chinese misfit who seem to have problems communicating with each other, their penchant for football, perennial money issues and loan sharks.

The first scene of the film generally summarises the actual situation on the ground. Every small group is happy supporting their own foreign football team while watching live games on giant TV screens in their favourite bistro. Everybody is a maestro on how the game should be played, but for a nation whose citizens are so brilliant on the intricacies of scoring goals, it has a national team that nobody gives two hoots. Nobody wants to watch them play.

That is where our two heroes come in, Halim and Chin Chye. Halim is a true patriot who roots for the Malaysian team. Chin Chye, on the other hand, is also concerned about the local team, not because he is a supporter. He hopes that the Malaysian team will lose as he has placed a large bet for them to lose. So, when they changed the channel to watch the Malaysian team when the rest of the restaurant patrons wanted to watch the English Premier League, they got whacked and got booted out. 

Just as they freshen up after the beatings, the loan sharks from whom Chin Chye had taken a loan started whacking them again. Chin Chye (and Halim too, since he is together) get an ultimatum - make Malaysia lose in the next game, or die.

Chin Chye and Halim later discover that they are from the same neighbourhood, like it is always the case in most communities; nobody knows each other. It is all just a facade. Everyone just puts up a front. After 64 years after independence and living together since the 1930s, each acts as if he is a tourist learning the customs and culture of each other. This speaks so little of our national integration programmes that have been organised all these years. Guess it is all money down the proverbial drain.

Now, Halim too, has money issues. His girlfriend is wooed by her wealthy boss. And Halim has to propose her fast. He desperately needs money for that. Since his girlfriend has two VIP tickets to the next Malaysian game, he decided to help Chin Chye get to the game. In return, Halim is to get some money.

The rest of the story is a comedy of errors, Malaysian style. The venue is changed again and again due to structural damages. They have to hitch a ride for that. In the midst of all that, another rival loan shark is hot on their trail to stop them.

This is no artistic work of art, but it is worth a watch to remind us of some similar comedies that came out from the Malaysian film scene, e.g. Mekanik and Ali Setan. 

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No perfect Man!

Pint-sized power barrel

Is it not funny that eulogies tend to paint a rosy picture of the recently departed? They make it sound as if he was such a good person that the world has lost another good man (or woman) that it could do better with. The audience would feel like kicking themselves for not taking the trouble to know him better when he was around.

Whenever somebody passes away, everyone will be expressing their condolence, praising them to high heavens (pun unintended). 

A little help from the 'Hand of God'

I have always thought of this every now and then. It came around again with the recent passing of Diego Maradona, easily the best, if not the second-best footballer ever to be born. (The first being Pele). I was prodded to write this post, especially after a friend sent a Twitter post curated by a fellow Twitter user.

Like a wet blanket, whilst the whole world, football enthusiasts and otherwise, were sending condolences in their social media platforms, he warned netizens to mourn but not to canonise the footballer. He reminded people of him being a poor role model. Despite his brilliant unrooting from the clutches of poverty to shine as a soccer star, he could not escape the hydra of cocaine. Surrounding himself with sycophants, he expressed his support for horrible dictators and terrorist regimes. It became clear that he also had a brush with the law on tax evasion issues and loan defaults. Who can forget his cheats on the field, the legendary ‘Hand of God’ being one? 

With Castro

Nevertheless, there is no perfect Man. Technically, we cannot take Jesus, Mohammad or Rama as being prototypes of Man; Jesus being God himself, Mohammad is the Prophet, and Rama was an avatar of Vishnu himself.

Mortal men are bogged with the adversities and the uncertainties of life. When swayed with unpredictability, he may go astray. I think we should hail the successes of an individual rather than shoot him down with his failures. After all, only the unsinned can cast the first stone. Ugly moulds can be found in all closets.  

In the prophetic lyrics of Chumbawamba's one-hit-wonder song 'Tubthumping' (You never gonna get me down) which seems to make its round as a lockdown parody - He sings the songs that remind him of the good times, he sings the songs that remind him of the better times!

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Who are you really?

R Arumugam @ Spiderman in action

I remember a time in primary school when Malaysia was playing hockey in the World Cup, and we were hosting them. One of my friends, ignorant that he was, predicted that Malaysia would lose, not because India is a good team but because Malaysia had too many players of Indian ethnicity. The Malaysians would not play with as much zest due to allegiance to their ancestral roots. Of course not, I told him. It was like the national goalie Spidey R Arumugam letting in a few goals during Merdeka tournament to India for old times’ sake. No way that was going to happen.

In the same way, I fail to see why many individuals of the Indian diaspora are getting all excited, ad nauseam, after the announcement of Kamala Harris as Joe Biden’s running mate. For the record, Kamala is half Indian on the maternal side and Jamaican on the other.

Kamala @ Momala with hubby and stepkids.

Kamala Harris is an American true and true. She was born in America, read in the American education system and lived the American Dream. True, the motivating factor in her life was her learned Tamil mother who migrated to the US for greener pastures. That is where it ends.

Beyond that, it is all politics. Ms Harris was initially riding on the African American ticket, but now that the Indian Americans are a force to be reckoned with and are mostly aligned to Trump and the Republican Party, there is a pressing need to woo the American Indians back to the Democratic Party.  

Charles Sobhraj

Whatever way the US election results swings out, it is not going in any way going to affect the day to day of an average person in the Indian diaspora. The leaders of any country have the best interest of the nation that elected to heart, not allegiance to the land that once bred their ethnicity but not kind enough to nurture them to full fruition that their ancestors had to fleet.

Funny nobody staked claim to proclaim Charles Sobhraj @ The Bikini Killer as an Indian when he hit the headlines four decades ago!

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Who is to say?

Everybody has their own whims and fancies. We all have their idiosyncrasies. Somehow deep inside, we feel that we got to where we are because of what and how we did it. We must have done something right.

That gives us the assurance that all things in life would turn out the way we want if it were done that particular way. And it would definitely turn sour if it were not done so. We all have our superstitions, and it gives us the conviction that everything will be alright if performed in such ritualistic manner. Nobody knows or can explain the sciences behind such an endeavour, but we do it anyway. What if something goes wrong? The stakes are too high to risk to engage in such a gamble.

I was in the company of some friends. We had decided to finally meet up after numerous failed attempts to get together due to pressing work engagements. What better time and place to meet than at a local sports’ restaurant with a giant screen display of the week’s big English League football game. The scene was set, and the game commenced. I noticed that my friend, M, had his back facing the TV screen. To the amusement of everyone in the group, he insisted on sitting that way!

Over the years, he had noticed that whenever his favourite team was playing, the team would win if he was not watching the game. The team fared poorly every time he viewed. The excitement of wanting to be in the thick of things when his team was playing was too overwhelming that he had to compromise - be at the game but not view it directly. Hence, he had resorted to such an arrangement. The rule has certain exceptions, of course. It is okay for him to see instant replays and pre-recorded games as these are not in real time.

His belief was further reinforced in that outing. After having his back face his screen throughout the two halves of the game, his team did indeed win the match. Deep inside, he must be glad that, in his own small way, he contributed to the success of his team, albeit his small butterfly fluttering way. This, against the variable biorhythms of the players, off/on forms of footballers, dirty tactics of the opponents, the invisible hands of the bookies, the state of non-level playing fields and many more unknown scientific and un-scientific factors. If it makes him entertained, who is to say?

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The world at your feet?

It is not a mere pastime. Neither is it just a recreational tool to strengthen the body and mind. It is more than that. It is an institution. The followers are so many and so religiously follow it every turn of event that it can be called a religion. It gives hope to the downtrodden and something for the rudderless to look forward too. Many a poor boy get pulled off from the shackles of poverty as it provides an equal level field for all to play. It does not discriminate race, creed or breed.

I am talking about football, as most of the world names it. Soccer to the other half who until recently thought it was a sissies’ game. They exclusively reserved the good name to the brawn clashing duel of unthinking cavemen with a misshapenned oblong structure erroneously named ball.

A visit to the temple of Spanish football stadium of Real Madrid showed how this game had infiltrated into the soul of the Spaniards. With more century of history behind them and loads of stories of victories, near misses, fantastic saves, miraculous comeback wins and many many more, they can go on talking about it forever.

There can be no other more efficient lubricant than sports. One does not have to go far to ignite the amber of nationalism. Get the national team to compete against the neighbours, and the country would see a sudden surge in camaraderie amongst its citizens.

Something so good cannot be without its vices. If previously tobacco and alcohol were blatantly advertised with the game, now the hidden hand behind this establishment have wised up. Their approach has been subtle, and gambling is legalised. The question is much the general public can reap its benefits. Is it just an opiate to numb the people off the real issues that plague them on a daily basis?

The temple - Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, Homeground of Real Madrid. 

The Chalices - Proof of their prowess.

The ever forgotten step-sibling - Valencia. 

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Chalice of hope or despair?

© FIFA

Almost like a ritual, it turns up regularly every four years in the Northern summer. Nobody bothers about the Southern hemisphere anyway. One says that games are on this summer, it refers to summer in the Northern hemisphere, not South. Many a couch potato who had seen better times at running after a ball, all turn out to be expert football pundits and fantastic football strategist; many times over than the world's highest paid football managers. These podgy characters start their day in the afternoon with puffy red eyes and husky voices after staying up the whole night to the wee hours of the morning at nightspots cheering for teams whose players would not even be able to place our country on the globe.

My exposure to this most loved started way back in 1978 when Argentina hosted this quadrennial fiesta. My mathematics teacher, Mr Chang, besides teaching us probabilities and possibilities, he also exposed us to some of the FIFA world cup related trivia. Brazil, at that time, was the only country to have turned out three times* and it was the only country that had won the cup when hosted outside the continent the winning team is from**. [Brazil won it in 1958, 1962 and 1970; they succeeded in Sweden]. Much has changed since then. * Germany and Italy has won four times and Italy three; ** Spain won in the African continent and Germany in South America in 2014.

100-ruble Bank of Russia commemorative note.

features great Russian goalkeeper Lev Yashin.

Is it not all about the money?

Over the years, much has happened in the way football is played and the tournament is run. The governing body and its members are drowning in alleges of bribery and match-fixing. The numbers of countries participating in the finals draw have swelled by leaps and bounds. After the 1994 US-hosted WC, commercialisation has reared its ugly head. Sometimes one wonders whether any outcome of a game is real anymore. Do the best team ever win or is it that the invisible hands of inter-continental bookies who have the final say?

Again and again, host countries have failed to make any money from these games. Their level of football never changed. The economy was not spurred. Monumental stadium out in the wilderness like the one in Manaus became white elephants which cannot generate income to sustain itself. Political unrest instead comes out as the homeless stare cluelessly as their host country sweep their poverty figures under the proverbial carpet. Don't even go near Qatar if one does want to know the number of humans if one takes migrant workers as one, sacrifices made in the name of showcasing the scorching desert kingdom as a host to this game in the heat of summer!

Are football enthusiasts given their money's worth? Do the final games give them enough fix to last another four years? I do not think so. Gone are the days, sportsman gave their heart and soul to the glory of the nation. Now it is dollars and cents or whatever denominations that matter to them. Footballs, like all commodities, have a shelf-life. Within their short span of soccer productivity, they have to enrich themselves. Their participations at club level roll in the dough. Medals and pride do not fill up the belly or maintain their lifestyles. Hence, we only see half-hearted participations and non-committal involvements in the World  Cup finals.

At the end of the spectators are taken for a ride whilst cronies of politically connected people in business laugh all the way to the bank. For others, it is just a month of chaos, blurry-eyed civil servants' service and loads of medical certificates issued for absenteeism.

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Sad decline

How Malaysia never reached the World Cup
(Harimau Malaya's 40-year chronicle of failure)
Author: Lucius Maximus

With such a depressing title, as expected, one can only read about heartaches and heartaches of the Malaysian fans over the 4 decades as the administrators of the national football team made more and more promises in vain to bring the national team to the World Cup finals.

We, the children of the 70s had many fond moments, glued to the radio sets visualising in our minds how our national team was then giving a good fight and even defeating many teams which are considered powerhouses of Asian football - e.g. South Korea, Japan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia. If we were lucky, we would have the pleasure of Malaysia pulverising minnows like the Philippines (15-0) and Burma in a padi-field like muddy fields of Stadium Merdeka. In fact, there was an urban legend then that Malaysia had a regular in-house bomoh (shaman) who had a 100% success rate in bringing in the rain. You see, Malaysia fared better in drenched situations.

The author painstakingly researched and re-enacted those nail-biting moments of the glory days of Malaysian football. A time when we were ranked easily as one of the better teams in Asia before FIFA ranking came to fore. In August 1993, we ranked #75 in the FIFA ranking. Today we are #156.

For starters, Indonesia actually partook the 1938 World Cup as Dutch East Indies where they were thrashed by then a superpower of football, Hungary 6-0.

After Malaysia's high achievement of making it the Olympic in 1972 and defeating USA 3-0, their interest to indulge in the World Cup must have started. Never mind that they lost the remaining 2 games and the U.S.A. was a novice then.

With a string of talented and dedicated players, we actually had a crack at high-level football. We had a few memorable games with international teams who were impressed with many of our player, for example, Mokhtar Dahari.

The journey to the coveted final rounds of the World Cup, however, had been by lousy luck, heartaches and horrible management. From 1974 to 2014, we had made 11 unsuccessful attempts in our pursuit to play amongst the best. Each journey pretty much starts and ends in the same way. We would kick up dirt to boast of yet another new attempt with a new foreign coach with an excellent track record and a local assistant which an illustrious career. The team will go on in a lot of pomp and splendour. The first matches would be not so promising but barely scrape through. They would promise of a better show in the next but would end up worse off than the first! They would miss the World Cup and had to contend watching the finals over the telly.

Excuses were aplenty, but the truth would be lousy planning (like training in Frasier's Hill for a game in Dubai, indiscipline, factions amongst players, cronyism, the mismanagement by the F.A.M. officials (from the most vibrant association it had become one of the most amateurish and poorest) and possibly intervention by bookies!

The author went as far as to suggest a few steps to help to improve the state of football in the country.

P.S. I met a F.A.M. official in a social function recently. Engaging in small talks revealed the old dogs are still quite passionate that the board should continue to be led by royal figurines. He alleged that only they had the charisma and potential to lure financial support for its continuity. Lest he forgot that any successful venture would automatically draw positive attention and money would start rolling in like an avalanche!

P.P.S. When you team starts losing to teams which have more killing fields than playing fields (Laos) or get whipped by groups known as whipping boys (Philippines) or countries with more mountains than fields (Nepal), you know you are in trouble. The trouble is you fail to realise than your contemporaries reached the Quarter Finals of World Cup while you have become more amateurish and shoddy. Japan who learnt from Malaysia on how to build a football league has now an enviable association while you struggle with mediocrity and a semiprofessional league comprising overweight stars who are way past their shelf life!

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Just another day in real life!

A Brazilian soccer fan cries as she watches her team 

get beat during a live telecast of the semifinals

 World Cup soccer match between Brazil and Germany, 

in Belo Horizonte, Brazil, Tuesday, July 08, 2014

Now that the nights are spent in slumber land, the eyes are becoming less congested and the mush in the brain is slowly clearing up, I can write. It is amazing how a game, after all a game, can exert so much effect on events around the world. Perhaps, it was meant to be thus. Average Joe being side-tracked by events that are clearly not going to determine the fate of mankind, as, they, the capitalists create a sense of urgency and fascination amongst the lay people and laugh all the way to the bank. If not, how would you expect a supposedly non profit organisation like FIFA to have 5 billion USD in their account, leaving a trail of heartaches as they count their loot. And the money is development of world football, really?

Soccer is just another tool for the powers that be to achieve their agenda. Back in the 1930s as Brazil was developing as a nation as the white masters, black slaves and the mullattos start to develop the nation, the powers that be decided football would be the unifying cement something like how ANC used rugby to unify a young post apartheid South Africa. Brazil became all excited with the young mullattos and their fancy footwork. They were initially a second tier team following the shadows of great teams like Uruguay and Italy. With lot of hope, they hosted the 1950 World Cup. With their high scoring games in the initial games, they were set to win the Cup easily then. In fact, the papers on 15th July 1950 printed pictures of the Brazilian team with the caption 'Tomorrow's World Champion'!

What followed shook the nation for years to come. 

Brazil lose 2-1 against Uruguay in the1950 World Cup

final held in the Maracanã Stadium, Brazil. 

Photograph: Popperfoto/Getty

Brazil lost the game to Uruguay in the final game 2-1 to a devastating crowd who were prostrating in grief. The Maracanã went completely silent when Uruguay hoisted the cup! The ghost of 1950 Uruguay had started. The players were ostracised for years to come. Some went into depression. Mention of the ill-fated game angered many citizens. The ghost was finally buried in 1958 Sweden final with the new kid of the block, Pele. It then went on to 5 World Cups and have the bragging rights of being the only country to win outside their continent.

The prelude of this World Cup (2014) included massive demonstrations by the poor homeless as the disparity between the haves and have nots escalated over the years. Grandiose commercially non sustainable projects like the Manaus Stadium angered them further. The Government was thinking of hoodwinking the public by giving the 'feel good' euphoria showcasing their samba hospitality to the world. They thought this would nicely fit in as the country was due to move into a fresh set of elections.

Looks like history had repeated itself. If the 1950 loss to Uruguay 1-2 was a national tragedy, how would the ghost of 2014 be exorcised? The team, which has a long following the world over, hailing from a land where football is a religion, were humiliated by Germany 1-7 in a highly emotional semi finals. It took 8 years in 1950 before they turned themselves around. Now, how?

As the World Cup comes to an end, the nation has to pick up the pieces, feel the emptiness left after a month's high of activities and pacify the forlorn nation who has to sort out the bread and butter issues too. The politicians are also seeing stars. Are the people going to return to their seats of is it time for them to pick up their money and run?

The lesson the lay person would learn would be, 'Cows may come and cows may go but the bull here stays forever'! The guests would have returned. It is time to clean up, get back to life and get back to reality.

Mauled by Man City

It is often said that the atmosphere of being in a football match is an experience to behold that can be only experienced by being there. The last and only time I was at a football match before was in a 1990 Malaysia Cup match between Selangor and Kelantan in Stadium Merdeka. In spite of being just an innocent bystander without supporting either side, I still appreciated the aura of cheer and passion in the air. And this was at a time when the rot had already set in the local football scene.
Sadly, there was no such feeling in yesterday's football game.To entertain a relative (a fellow Liverpool supporter) from Canada, we brought him to watch a friendly game between a young Malaysian team and a half spirited half strength 'still basking in their BPL glory' visiting holiday mood Manchester City team.
Surprisingly, the game started on time after breaking fast (as it was the holy month of Ramadhan) and maghrib prayers at 9.45pm after the usual mumbo jumbo of introduction of players to the officials who were sitting in the Chair of FAM since my school days all through the rot.
I thought that the visitors would be jet-lagged but instead our boys seem disorientated and seem contended just passing the ball within their half of the field. The urgency was not there. They were a few half hearted attempt on the opponent's half but our boys fail to note that high long passes just do not work when the opponents are towering over you! The first half of the game was lacklustre with a few glimmer of fancy moves from the visitors and we were trailing 0-1. Our loss of direction continued even we were down 0-3. I had seen the winning side practising passing game when they were buying time for the final whistle but when you down.
Frustratingly, our Malayan Tigers were all doing a 'Soh Chin Aun-Santokh Singh-Arumugam' passes (during the Merdeka Cup glory days to frustrate the losing Korean side) when we were about 15 minutes from game time and 0-3! People were getting bored. Even the annoying buzz of the vuvuzela or the thumping drum beats of the rebana ubi could keep the passion alive and many disappointed Malaysian fans started leaving the stadium. They, presumably did not want to waste their time at the exit later and must have thought they should do something more worthwhile like going to bed early for sahur the next morning or going to work fresh!

Just when we thought all were lost....

The humidity must have taken its toll on the City boys. Suddenly, through a short pass from a free kick, the Malaysia team cracked open the eggshell to a thunderous roar of the home team. The spectators showed their appreciations by singing and cheering as if the Malaysian team had attained victory.

The game ended tamely at 1-3 and everyone went home still wondering and reminiscing the good old days when we used to beat teams like South Korea and Japan.
Where are they and where are we....

Painting the town red!

As the Tamils have a proverb for a situation like this, 'Like a bear attending Lord Shiva's prayer', I do not know what this retard of a  fan (aren't they all?) - and they call us "Live-a-fool" - was thinking he bulldozed into the sea of red worshipers of Liverpool team. The Kops fans are too level-headed to ridicule the mentally challenged.
Anyway, welcome Liverpudlians to Malaysia. The Liverpool team is made up everyone else but hardly any Liverpudlians anyway but they play in the Merseyside they become Liverpudlians, right?.
From The Star, 16th July 2011....
PETALING JAYA: A Manchester United fan pushed his luck a little too far when he showed up at the Liverpool training session at the National Stadium in Bukit Jalil wearing the Red Devils kit. 

Liverpool fans saw red and he was lucky to get away with only losing his shirt. Raging hell-raisers: (From top to bottom) The young man is spotted sporting the jersey, prompting Kopites to force him to strip. He then left, before returning in a Malaysian national team jersey. A video captured at the training session on Thursday and later uploaded on YouTube showed a young man clad in his Rooney No 10 jersey, surrounded by hordes of Liverpool fans, including women, seated directly in front of him. He resisted attempts to strip him, but his jersey was eventually lifted off in front of a crowd yelling “Buka! Buka!” (“Take it off!”). He refused to put on the Liverpool jersey, even as it was forcibly put over his head, and sat stone-faced and shirtless for a moment before he was led away from the jeering fans.
However, the Reds still failed to get him to wear their kit as he was later seen in the video wearing a yellow Malaysia jersey.

Liverpool fans who were nearby as the spectacle unfolded said he was asking for trouble.
“He can come to watch, but he should have known better with the rivalry between the two clubs,” said Zuliantie Dzul, 29. “He was showing off his jersey, making sure everybody saw him,” said Tommy Lim, 27.
The video can be seen at www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0dcdoU51rk.