Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer by Wilson Raj Perumal, Alessandro Righi, Emanuele Piano Page A
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trustworthy runners,
who could absorb three million dollars within an hour. You just
needed to call them: "Bet for me".
These Chinese
runners went by the names of Ah Blur, Ah Swuey, Ah Lim, Ah Tong, Ah
Chai. Their names were actually Blur, Swuey, Lim and so on, but the
Chinese in Singapore have the habit of pronouncing an 'Ah' in front
of their names or nicknames. These Chinese runners had places where
they could throw their bets; I don't know who the final collector of
the wagers was because there were a number of agents in Malaysia,
Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam. Pal employed a myriad of
these Chinese runners; about 10-20 guys who worked under him, buying
and selling his bets. He was probably the first Indian boss who had
the Chinese bowing down before him. He was so powerful and so
confident that he would go so far as to organize what we called
'ghost games'.
"Selangor FA is
playing Johor FC", he would announce.
Asian betting
companies usually had a source in the local FA that told them which
matches were going to be played on what dates. Pal would bribe that
person to publish the Selangor vs Johor match among the
official fixtures of the day and inform the betting companies. After
being added to the FA's schedule, Pal's bogus match became official
and would pop up for betting among the daily fixtures. All he needed
to do now was to pay random amateur players to wear the Selangor and
Johor team jerseys and play. He used this trick a few times, until
the betting companies caught on.
Although he was
making millions, Pal still looked like a villager. The slippers on
his bare feet were always the first thing that one saw as he stepped
out of his green Mercedes 320, the biggest Mercedes-Benz in Singapore
at the time. Pal was originally from Sembawang, another rural area in
Singapore like Chua Chu Kang, where I was born. We were not born
rich, with the silver spoon and all of
that ; we're not from royal or
distinguished families; we were all poor guys. The name Pal in Tamil
means 'milk'. When Pal was young, he rode through his neighborhood on
his bicycle selling milk from his parent's cows. That's why we were
never really into posh things like a villa with a swimming pool and a
bar counter; we were not into that way of life, nor did we ever
cherish any of those luxurious belongings; we were just gamblers. Pal
didn't have an education - I don't think that he ever went to school
- he spoke broken English and was not the kind of guy who could carry
himself very well. He was a chain smoker, his favorite brand was
Dunhill, and he would fuck all the women who worked for him. He had
no respect for others and was a big show-off: Pal would step into
your house and try to fuck your woman under your nose; he was that
kind of guy. Somebody told me that he has now become a Dato, an
honorary title that is bestowed upon respected figures in Malaysia;
something like an honorary doctorate degree.
"Doctor Pal",
I thought, when I first heard the news. "Fucking bastard, he
cannot recite the alphabet from A to Z and he's a doctor".
But Pal had a Ph.D when it came down to being street-smart. He had the
ability to convince people and, if need be, he had a very sweet
tongue.
When we first met,
Pal knew that I was fixing local matches because it was in the
market-talk. Besides the rigged games that I sometimes organized at
the Jalan Besar stadium, I fixed matches between company teams like
the Intercontinental Hotel vs the Hyatt Hotel and other such unimportant fixtures. These
were Inter-Hotel League games. If I happened to have some friends
working in one of the hotels that were competing, I would ask them to
assist me in approaching the players.
"Hey", I
would ask them. "Why don't you take money to lose the match
today".
"OK".
It wasn't
professional football and sometimes I could speak directly to the
managers of the teams and put my friends in their lineups. I remember
that once I was dead broke and one of these amateur matches
who could absorb three million dollars within an hour. You just
needed to call them: "Bet for me".
These Chinese
runners went by the names of Ah Blur, Ah Swuey, Ah Lim, Ah Tong, Ah
Chai. Their names were actually Blur, Swuey, Lim and so on, but the
Chinese in Singapore have the habit of pronouncing an 'Ah' in front
of their names or nicknames. These Chinese runners had places where
they could throw their bets; I don't know who the final collector of
the wagers was because there were a number of agents in Malaysia,
Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam. Pal employed a myriad of
these Chinese runners; about 10-20 guys who worked under him, buying
and selling his bets. He was probably the first Indian boss who had
the Chinese bowing down before him. He was so powerful and so
confident that he would go so far as to organize what we called
'ghost games'.
"Selangor FA is
playing Johor FC", he would announce.
Asian betting
companies usually had a source in the local FA that told them which
matches were going to be played on what dates. Pal would bribe that
person to publish the Selangor vs Johor match among the
official fixtures of the day and inform the betting companies. After
being added to the FA's schedule, Pal's bogus match became official
and would pop up for betting among the daily fixtures. All he needed
to do now was to pay random amateur players to wear the Selangor and
Johor team jerseys and play. He used this trick a few times, until
the betting companies caught on.
Although he was
making millions, Pal still looked like a villager. The slippers on
his bare feet were always the first thing that one saw as he stepped
out of his green Mercedes 320, the biggest Mercedes-Benz in Singapore
at the time. Pal was originally from Sembawang, another rural area in
Singapore like Chua Chu Kang, where I was born. We were not born
rich, with the silver spoon and all of
that ; we're not from royal or
distinguished families; we were all poor guys. The name Pal in Tamil
means 'milk'. When Pal was young, he rode through his neighborhood on
his bicycle selling milk from his parent's cows. That's why we were
never really into posh things like a villa with a swimming pool and a
bar counter; we were not into that way of life, nor did we ever
cherish any of those luxurious belongings; we were just gamblers. Pal
didn't have an education - I don't think that he ever went to school
- he spoke broken English and was not the kind of guy who could carry
himself very well. He was a chain smoker, his favorite brand was
Dunhill, and he would fuck all the women who worked for him. He had
no respect for others and was a big show-off: Pal would step into
your house and try to fuck your woman under your nose; he was that
kind of guy. Somebody told me that he has now become a Dato, an
honorary title that is bestowed upon respected figures in Malaysia;
something like an honorary doctorate degree.
"Doctor Pal",
I thought, when I first heard the news. "Fucking bastard, he
cannot recite the alphabet from A to Z and he's a doctor".
But Pal had a Ph.D when it came down to being street-smart. He had the
ability to convince people and, if need be, he had a very sweet
tongue.
When we first met,
Pal knew that I was fixing local matches because it was in the
market-talk. Besides the rigged games that I sometimes organized at
the Jalan Besar stadium, I fixed matches between company teams like
the Intercontinental Hotel vs the Hyatt Hotel and other such unimportant fixtures. These
were Inter-Hotel League games. If I happened to have some friends
working in one of the hotels that were competing, I would ask them to
assist me in approaching the players.
"Hey", I
would ask them. "Why don't you take money to lose the match
today".
"OK".
It wasn't
professional football and sometimes I could speak directly to the
managers of the teams and put my friends in their lineups. I remember
that once I was dead broke and one of these amateur matches
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