NOV 19 — It was a striking coincidence that Super Mokh: The Musical was shown when Malaysian football was venturing through one of its worst controversial periods and that I saw the stage play the day after the country was put virtually out of the running for the Asian Cup finals for the umpteenth time after losing to Bahrain on Friday.
At the time when the lights shone and the goals opened for super striker Mokhtar Dahari, the character in the title role of that musical shown at Istana Budaya in Kuala Lumpur the whole of last week, Bahrain was nowhere in sight in as far as Malaysia’s main rivals were concerned.
Now, the country is left straggling even in Asian rankings, with no one in charge having the decency to take the responsibility and just move over.
Nonetheless, the muscial show did bring back memories — even though Awie who played Mokhtar looked more like Roberto Rivelino on stage.
Still, it was yet another triumphant appearance by the rock star on the performing arts stage. With that, he is fast establishing himself as a versatile artiste, first on the silver screen and now I really like his great presence as a variety talk show host on television as well.
Super Mokh: The Musical was a bit shallow in content, but that single line towards the end underscored the clear message: “Nowadays, we can no longer determine whether we would win.”
It was a powerful statement that could be interpreted in a thousand ways. But then again nobody in charge would really listen.
I could relate well to the proceedings on stage because being a sports reporter at the time when the Mokhtar star was shining bright, I could allude to much of the goings-on depicted in the musical.
In fact the Mokhtar name-flash had popped in when he played and scored goals for Kuala Lumpur’s Victoria Institution against my boarding school in Perak in 1970 or 1971. It was only a few years later when he was making waves in the national team that we learnt that this was the same guy who wreaked havoc against our formidable school team.
Super Mokh: The Musical told the story about the simplicity of the situation then. Footballers were not professionals of the game as we know them today. They were part of the normal 9-to-5 employees brigade. In Mokhtar’s case he was deskbound with typewriter in hand at PKNS, the Selangor government’s investment arm.
It really brought back memories especially about the RM3 training allowances and RM28 pay packets players would get on match days.
I used to follow the PKNS training sessions routinely those days conducted by coach Yunus Tasman at the Cheras field and then filed reports of local Selangor league matches played at Merdeka Stadium. (We would tuck in mercilessly and without much worry the fish head curry rice at the nasi kandar stall at the stadium on match days).
The league was so competitive and the fixtures closely followed—two matches in succession at the stadium twice a week. We were young and never felt tired.
When I moved to Penang later, I was involved in covering very much the same local football scene, this time instead of PKNS, MCIS or Belia Sinaran, the clubs were Waterfall Rangers, Ramblers and Prai Rovers.
Somehow, Mokhtar was very much on the radar screen still because Penang and Selangor had become arch rivals in the Malaysia Cup competition.
Instead of Mokhtar, I had to pester Fadzil Ismail during working hours at Penang Maybank for stories.
I had even ghost written a column for Penang striker Isa Bakar talking about Mokhtar in Mokhtar and I.
The stands were packed when the matches were played then. The stands are overflowing when matches are played now. The difference is the standard of play and perhaps commitment by the players on the pitch.
It comes back to the current state of affairs and Malaysia’s overall showing. We have a nation of football crazy population where virtually everyone talks about the game, especially the English and European leagues. We have great stadiums in every state, we get extremely good turnouts in crucial M-League and Malaysia Cup matches, far better than the early Mokhtar days.
Yet the country is below par when it comes to international standards. Below Maldives and the Philippines. What happened? That’s what we want to know.
However, when the question crops up, everyone gets uptight, sending in occasional qualifiers that critics should hold their horses against the mighty powers-that-be and not be deemed insolent (biadap) forgetting that they are in a position open to public scrutiny.
The whole question is the people at the top of the governing body should realise that they are there for a purpose. And that the very positions they are in, expose them to criticisms and the occasional inquisitions.
There are no two ways about it even if they are deemed higher up in stature under normal circumstances, the very positions expose them to a battery of interrogations.
They cannot be free in any way from souls deemed biadap. Ever. Just step aside.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
