Football is the people’s game, and those who run it must answer to millions

DESPONDENT. In tatters. Defeatist. Pessimistic. Down in the dumps.

These aren’t just words. They are the collective sentiment echoing through the hearts of Malaysian football fans in recent days. Myself included.

Take the Malaysia Cup final. Johor Darul Ta’zim (JDT), having bulldozed through the Super League and FA Cup, were finally made to sweat by Pahang.

It wasn’t just a match, it was a spectacle. A reminder that beneath the Southern Tigers’ dominance, there still burns a competitive fire in Malaysian football.

The Elephants gave a fight worthy of admiration, and surely, even JDT would acknowledge that.

Yet, in the glow of the contest, shadows lingered – questionable refereeing and inconsistent yellow cards.

Worse still, the man in the middle, Razlan Joffri Ali, had previously been suspended for controversial decisions in a Super League game just months earlier.

Naturally, this raises questions, about accountability, about the sanctity of officiating.

But according to Football Association of Malaysia (FAM) deputy president Datuk S. Sivasundaram, who also chairs the referees’ committee, Razlan’s performance was up to par.

Some were left gobsmacked. I was one of them.

But that’s the verdict, and we must confront the reality ... refereeing decisions, however flawed, are often shielded by subjectivity.

Still, subjectivity shouldn’t be an excuse for stagnation.

It’s long past time for Malaysia to establish a professional refereeing body, akin to England’s Professional Game Match Officials Board (PGMOL). It’s been discussed. Floated. Mooted. But is any real action being taken?

We have already introduced video assistant referee (VAR). But technology without transparency breeds more suspicion.

Broadcasting conversations between referees and VAR officials could demystify decisions and rebuild trust.

Imagine the Malaysia Cup final with no doubts—just admiration. That’s the goal. We want to talk about great goals, not glaring errors.

On the field, drama. Off the field, tragedy.

The nation still reels from the harrowing acid attack on charismatic winger Faisal Halim, Mickey to many, on May 5 last year.

Some say he’s moved on. But what Faisal has done is more than move on. He’s stood tall, resilient and defiant, a living symbol of strength in the face of cruelty.

And yet, amid this perseverance, a cruel silence remains. Justice. Where is it?

The decision of ‘No Further Action’ feels like salt in a wound that never had a chance to close.

Where is the next step toward truth, toward closure, toward justice?

We can’t stop asking the hard questions. Because if justice eludes Faisal, what message does that send to the rest of us?

Then there are the clubs, many of whom teeter on the brink, unsure if they’ll survive to compete in the next season.

Yesterday would have been the birthday of the late B. Sathianathan. His biting quote, “M-League is not football,” feels prophetic today.

Competitiveness is dwindling. Mismanagement festers. The sweat and sacrifice of players and coaches are being undermined by those off the pitch.

Even if JDT continue to reign supreme, fans yearn for a league where the chasing pack are just that - competitive, hungry and able.

But that can’t happen if the league is marred by salary arrears, refereeing farces, erratic fixtures, and clubs pulling out at the eleventh hour.

As of now, we don’t even know how many teams will compete in the upcoming Super League season. And even when we do, the question remains – can they manage?

It’s not just about playing matches. It’s about building a sustainable football ecosystem. One with commercial value, structure, and credibility.

Right now, it feels like we’re building on sand. And the foundation, once stable, is starting to give way.

This isn’t about placating egos or saving face. Football belongs to the people.

And those who run the game must remember – they don’t answer to a handful. They answer to millions.

It’s time to rebuild. Not just hope. Act.