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Memories of Malaysian football

There are middle-aged men who get misty-eyed when talking about the 1980 Malaysian football team, and some of them can, to this day, name the entire first eleven.

They can recall, vividly, in black and white of course, the electric Hassan Sani running with the ball from the middle of the field, evading the tackles of two South Koreans and, when getting into the opponents’ box, squaring it to the left to the onrushing James Wong.

Wong then evades a tackle, his twist wrong-stepping a defender who gets the added embarrassment of falling on his backside, before kicking the ball into the goal.

In the housing area where we lived, there were choruses of groans and cheers during the game, but when that goal went in, one could probably have heard the whole neighbourhood. Nay, perhaps the entire nation.

For those too young to be a witness to that historic moment, yes, it is true, the whole nation did rejoice as one.

Kids in playgrounds all over wanted to be James “King James” Wong, Hassan, the Towkay Soh Chin Aun or Spider-Man R. Arumugam. “Supermokh” Mokhtar Dahari was the perennial favourite, though he did not play, having announced his retirement, if I am not mistaken, from international football.

That team qualified for the Moscow Olympics, but Malaysia and scores of other nations boycotted the Games in protest against the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan that year.

I am reminded of the 1980 Malaysian team following the release of a movie inspired by the events of that time. I have yet to watch it, though I have been told it is good. I have no doubt about the ability of the moviemaker to tell a good story, but I am rather worried that I could end up wallowing in self pity after the movie.

It is obvious that our national team ranking is a concern and an embarrassment, but my main concern is that, walking out of the theatre, I could be reminded of all the good things that football, and sports in general, had brought us then that it does not now.

Our footballers, hockey players, badminton stars and track and field athletes were household names. We cheered them on and there would be a spring in our step when they won. When they lost, we mourned as a nation.

While politics divided us, even then, they brought us together in the stands and terraces. Our sporting heroes were vital in nation-building and they brought the best out of most of us.

The last time I felt that was in 1992, when our badminton team became world champions. I remember the then Badminton Association of Malaysia head Tan Sri Elyas Omar receiving an impromptu standing ovation as he walked into a business event a few days after the Thomas Cup victory. For many people in the room, we were proud of our team and had wanted to thank someone who made it possible for us to feel that good.

There is more to sports than championships, trophies or medals. Sports make us believe, they are our lowest common denominator, they touch us at our very core. If we cheer for our sportsmen and women who have reached the pinnacle of their sports, such as squash queen Datuk Nicol David, or Datuk Lee Chong Wei or cyclist Azizulhasni Awang, because they have made us proud, then they have done their part in helping to promote nationhood.

In football, when the old English First Division was around, and many followed it, the games were rarely seen, and live telecasts were limited to cup finals. One would only read about the exploits of teams and players, occasionally catching them on the sports round-up.

These days, there are more live games from the English Premier League than domestic ones, and there are many who can name the entire Manchester United 25-man squad, together with their transfer fees and wages, but would be hard pressed to name a handful of our national team players.

How do we get excited about our national team again?

Winning would be a good start, of course. The state teams seem to be doing fine, with most games being well attended, but I believe many have sort of given up hope on our Harimau Malaya.

I am always intrigued by this and, whenever I meet an ex-national player, I would always ask them why our football is in the state it is now.

A household name in the 1960s, who has since passed on, suggested it was differing attitudes; back then, they were just glad to be playing. These days, players may be distracted by many things beyond the field. Most things are easier for them now, but they have not progressed much when compared with the top South Koreans or Japanese players, who now ply their trade the world over.

One of the key players of the 1980 team questioned the prospects of life after football, which results in most parents discouraging their children from taking up sports. He cited himself as an example. His son was a more talented and complete player than he ever was, and had represented Malaysia in age group tournaments, but he soon put a stop to it, telling him to concentrate on his studies instead and to only return to football after he graduated.

Of course, he knew by then it would be too late as his son would miss the most crucial period in his sporting development. He knew that his decision would mean his son would probably never play again for Malaysia, but he was being a practical parent and, if Malaysia were to lose a talent, so be it.

Another player from the team said too much politics, and politicians, was killing the game. He lamented once that his former captain, the Towkay, the rock of the Malaysian team, could not get elected into a Football Association Of Malaysia (FAM) committee, losing to politicians and personalities who probably never kicked a ball in anger.

He suggested that our abysmal ranking should have seen the entire FAM undergo a revamp. Yet, we see the same faces. The only changes it seemed were the coaches, managers and players.

Surely, we were not suddenly cursed with no people who can play football, he said.

I am glad I have that memory of the time we cheered for our team because we believed in them, and with them, we put faith in our national aspirations.

But, at the same time, it is also sad, because the only thing I can remember when describing the peak of Malaysian football is Wong, tall and all legs, calmly slotting the ball into the South Korean goal 35 years ago.

Zainul Arifin is an award-winning
columnist

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