A summer of sport and politics

Footballers and politicians share a common trait – they pass things around and hope to score more than the other side.

ALLEGIANCES can shift considerably in the space of several years. In some cases this is understandable. For example, when partners realised they have different priorities or unavoidable constraints, and part ways.

In politics, however, there is often a high degree of cynicism, opportunism and greed involved.

Often, politicians will justify the desire for power because it “enables them to do good”, but often, that power corrupts, resulting in nepotism, cronyism and patronage, or even the destruction of check and balance institutions that will take years to recover.

This is because once officeholders get used to the transactional method of doing things with favours and debts, it is difficult for people who don’t participate to get promoted.

A recent visit back to the United Kingdom – and specifically, my old office in the Palace of Westminster where I started with an internship in the House of Lords and later became a parliamentary researcher in the House of Commons – reminded me of the toxicity that can infect even internal party politics.

Every organisation sees disagreements among its members, but the political assassination of leaders can be rather brutal, regardless of the ceremonial niceties that accompany constitutional transitions.

Such phenomena also certainly apply in Malaysia, but as I write, Andy Burnham has become the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom – Larry the Downing Street cat’s seventh – having ousted his party colleague Sir Keir Starmer.

In the process of assembling his cabinet, new wounds, animosities and vengeances will inevitably surface – to be suppressed if Burnham successfully leads the Labour Party to another comfortable parliamentary majority, but perhaps to be deepened if he fails.

The FIFA World Cup 2026 exhibited allegiances that were far more reliable and much more visceral.

I don’t watch much football, and some are certainly perplexed that, as a Malaysian who spent years in the United Kingdom, I don’t support any club in the English Premier League, even though my family members certainly do.

As a teenager I was coerced into trying a few – and one in the Scottish Premiership – but none appealed. I was put off by the level of detail that fans were expected to know about individual players and tactics, and also the level of blind passion that ensued whenever there was a big match.

I threw my energies into baroque composers instead.

However, being around the optimistic supporters of a national team, while being in that country, certainly has an infectious effect.

I found myself donning a non-Negri Sembilan football jersey for the first time in my life – England’s three lions have interesting medieval origins – and experienced unsolicited camaraderie by walking through Hyde Park.

Yet, politics found its way into this World Cup co-hosted by the United States and its two land neighbours with which it has had tense relations during the ongoing presidency of Donald Trump.

Geopolitics interfered most with the Iranian team, who had to relocate their base from Arizona to Tijuana in Mexico, and whose key officials were unable to acquire visas to support the matches in the USA.

Many other players and supporters of other countries were also given a hard time by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents.

Coming to the matches themselves, controversies included high ticket prices (but that’s nothing new), rules about water bottles, and the mandatory hydration breaks bisecting each half, which was widely seen as a commercial opportunity that further ‘Americanised’ this most international of sports.

Much more controversial were allegations of bias among referees, and the intervention of President Trump to undo a game ban stemming from a red card given to a US player (but the US still lost to Belgium in the subsequent match).

Also unpopular among players and pundits was the half- time show during the final match: “It was crap,” declared Wayne Rooney.

The match itself, between an eventually victorious Spain and a Messi-led Argentina, was boring compared to the 10-goal bronze medal thriller, leading to the observation that England only do well when there’s no pressure.

Thankfully, tennis’ finest tournament still carried on through the footie (and there was a new British sensation in Arthur Fery), where it’s much more obviously about the individuals: for me, Jannick Sinner’s calm excellence is reminiscent of Roger Federer.

Coming back to politics, all politicians have to play it a bit like football: pass things around and hope to score more than the other side. But a few play it like singles (and occasionally doubles) tennis: ready for drawn-out battles across the net, and potentially rivalries and partnerships that endure for years.

Sporting metaphors aside, it will always be easier to comprehend where athletes get their glory from!

Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin is founding president of the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (Ideas). The views expressed here are the writer’s own.