Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer by Wilson Raj Perumal, Alessandro Righi, Emanuele Piano Page B
Ads: Link
was
coming up. I had watched one of the teams play and lose 5-0 against
another mediocre amateur squad. Early in the morning on the day of
the game I assembled some footballers that I knew and together we
went to speak to the team's manager.
"Look", I
told him, "your team is pathetic. Why don't you take two or
three of my players. They can do a good job".
The manager tried a
few of my friends out, saw them play, then agreed to my proposal.
"OK, no
problem", he said. "I can take these two players".
Two of my players
were now in the starting lineup, ready to lose the match.
"You play the
last man and you play the right guy", I instructed them.
The odds were 0.5 so
all we needed was to lose by one goal. Although my two friends were
playing to lose, our team scored first. Now we had to concede two
goals in order to win our bet. In the 60 th minute, the other team equalized: 1-1. With 30 minutes
left in the game I was confident that my boys would deliver the
result that I needed, but the clock kept ticking and, when the injury
time began, my friends still hadn't conceded the goal.
"Touch the
fucking ball with your hand, you asshole!" I shouted from the
side of the pitch. One of my friends had a clear opportunity for a
hand-ball in the penalty box but the fucker let it slip.
The match ended 1-1
and we lost our money. I was dumbfounded. Fuck. We had gotten someone
with money to place bets for us on credit and now we were indebted.
"Look, this
game here is fixed", we had informed him. "You can bet on
it 100 percent but please throw some money for us as well".
"Deal", he
had said. "I'll bet five thousand for you and five thousand for
me".
And we all died ten
thousand. After the match, I confronted my friend.
"You fucking
bastard", I shouted. "I threw money on this game. You knew
that the only money in our pockets was the one we used for the bus
fare to get here. You know how hard it was for me to get you into the
team. I bring you a chance to make easy cash and in the 90 minutes
that you played you could not concede one penalty for me? What the
fuck! Are you trying to kill me or what?"
My friend remained
silent. I am not the type of guy that throws a tantrum after a
defeat; I can usually turn the clock back, calm down and think
positive. I recovered and called the bookie to tell him that I would pay my debt on the following day. Match-fixing is not a walk
in the park and I took every defeat as a lesson.
I always tried to
approach players whom I trusted to win a match first. One such
footballer was Michal from
the Czech Republic. At 29 years of age, Michal was a real class
player; he could single-handedly take on six or seven men. When in
Europe, he had played in the Czech club Slavia Prague, then had moved
to Malaysia's Sabah FC and finally to Singapore's Geylang
International FC. When I first saw him play, I wondered: "How
the fuck did this guy end up in the Malaysia Cup?"
Fans in those days
were not very nice to foreign players that were not up to the
required standard; they would become the ideal target for jokes that
made the entire crowd in the stands burst into uncontrolled laughter.
"Oi! Look at
that white guy, he's useless", someone would shout. "What
is this: you buy one white guy and you get one free?"
But not Michal; he
was a mid-sized, skinny guy, but he was fast and really good with the
ball; a different kind of player. He and I used to patronize the same
nightclub, Top 10, Orchard Towers, in downtown Singapore. Top 10 was
a very popular nightclub at the time; there was a live band that
played R&B and most of the top foreign footballers spent their
evenings there because it was the number one joint in Singapore.
Football players are quite simple: they're womanizers; always busy
with their girlfriends and with training. Partying, nightclubs,
women, football, that's it. And these were foreign players; their
salaries were higher than those of the local players; they could
easily make up to 10 or 15 thousand
coming up. I had watched one of the teams play and lose 5-0 against
another mediocre amateur squad. Early in the morning on the day of
the game I assembled some footballers that I knew and together we
went to speak to the team's manager.
"Look", I
told him, "your team is pathetic. Why don't you take two or
three of my players. They can do a good job".
The manager tried a
few of my friends out, saw them play, then agreed to my proposal.
"OK, no
problem", he said. "I can take these two players".
Two of my players
were now in the starting lineup, ready to lose the match.
"You play the
last man and you play the right guy", I instructed them.
The odds were 0.5 so
all we needed was to lose by one goal. Although my two friends were
playing to lose, our team scored first. Now we had to concede two
goals in order to win our bet. In the 60 th minute, the other team equalized: 1-1. With 30 minutes
left in the game I was confident that my boys would deliver the
result that I needed, but the clock kept ticking and, when the injury
time began, my friends still hadn't conceded the goal.
"Touch the
fucking ball with your hand, you asshole!" I shouted from the
side of the pitch. One of my friends had a clear opportunity for a
hand-ball in the penalty box but the fucker let it slip.
The match ended 1-1
and we lost our money. I was dumbfounded. Fuck. We had gotten someone
with money to place bets for us on credit and now we were indebted.
"Look, this
game here is fixed", we had informed him. "You can bet on
it 100 percent but please throw some money for us as well".
"Deal", he
had said. "I'll bet five thousand for you and five thousand for
me".
And we all died ten
thousand. After the match, I confronted my friend.
"You fucking
bastard", I shouted. "I threw money on this game. You knew
that the only money in our pockets was the one we used for the bus
fare to get here. You know how hard it was for me to get you into the
team. I bring you a chance to make easy cash and in the 90 minutes
that you played you could not concede one penalty for me? What the
fuck! Are you trying to kill me or what?"
My friend remained
silent. I am not the type of guy that throws a tantrum after a
defeat; I can usually turn the clock back, calm down and think
positive. I recovered and called the bookie to tell him that I would pay my debt on the following day. Match-fixing is not a walk
in the park and I took every defeat as a lesson.
I always tried to
approach players whom I trusted to win a match first. One such
footballer was Michal from
the Czech Republic. At 29 years of age, Michal was a real class
player; he could single-handedly take on six or seven men. When in
Europe, he had played in the Czech club Slavia Prague, then had moved
to Malaysia's Sabah FC and finally to Singapore's Geylang
International FC. When I first saw him play, I wondered: "How
the fuck did this guy end up in the Malaysia Cup?"
Fans in those days
were not very nice to foreign players that were not up to the
required standard; they would become the ideal target for jokes that
made the entire crowd in the stands burst into uncontrolled laughter.
"Oi! Look at
that white guy, he's useless", someone would shout. "What
is this: you buy one white guy and you get one free?"
But not Michal; he
was a mid-sized, skinny guy, but he was fast and really good with the
ball; a different kind of player. He and I used to patronize the same
nightclub, Top 10, Orchard Towers, in downtown Singapore. Top 10 was
a very popular nightclub at the time; there was a live band that
played R&B and most of the top foreign footballers spent their
evenings there because it was the number one joint in Singapore.
Football players are quite simple: they're womanizers; always busy
with their girlfriends and with training. Partying, nightclubs,
women, football, that's it. And these were foreign players; their
salaries were higher than those of the local players; they could
easily make up to 10 or 15 thousand
Similar Books
