There’s absolutely nothing wrong with listening to Alleycats or Uji Rashid, or dressing up like Datuk Sudirman Arshad or Amy Search, or even collecting antiques.
We should celebrate retro music, art and fashion. There’s beauty in our layers of culture.
But great cultures thrive on invention and innovation, as well as revival.
When it comes to a lack of vision or imagination, politicians in Malaysian football are one of the worst offenders. They loathe innovation.
It’s partly because these politicians have no original thoughts or new ideas. Also, they hope that by roping in a former footballers – often seen as the or blue-eyed boys of the state – these ‘legends’ will connect with, and reassure the fans, winning them the much-needed political mileage.
They fail to realise that we can learn from the past without repeating it.
The return of legends, of course, is dramatic and appealing. But what are they supposed to do?
The legends’ vision would normally feel more geriatric than cutting-edge. The legend would hate to be thought of as cautious and pedestrian, hence will always blindly seek for a quick fix, a short-term solution that drives immediate results and glory.
The legend may not offer any inspirational, innovative, or radical solutions to the club’s problems.
Even during the recent financial decline suffered by state governments in the country, the strategy was still to siphon out state funds and assets with a promised percentage to the football club.
Age and status aren’t the issue. It’s the myopic mindset.
Some fans believe there is nothing wrong with holding on to the past – working towards acquiring heaps of state funding, and using taxpayers’ money to pay exorbitant amounts in salaries to sub-standard professional footballers is, to them, ethical and honourable.
They want to see fresh imports, smell new stadium seats, and taste old trophies. Frankly, I can’t see the point in all this because all you are doing is creating memories you’ll never be able to savour next season.
As mentioned in my previous article, people naturally have the tendency to resist any sort of change.
Structural reforms like the introduction of a ‘selection committee’ that is inclusive of people from the business side of football (i.e. marketing, human resources, accounting, community managers) for the purpose of appointing players and coaches are quickly scorned.
Not only will such reform ensures that decision making will be commercially motivated, it will also remove the potential for abuse, and redistribute the accountability to the entire institution rather than the just the head coach or technical team.
But most ‘legends’ would exercise the choice to retaliate such a critical reform, because it means that they no longer have absolute control in deciding the incoming players and coaches.
Sports advisories should be the crucible for change.
Instead, the legends see them as a threat – an enemy in their culture wars – and are determined to curtail their influence.
Meanwhile, football clubs need bold ideas and embrace modernisation, not mere doses of imaginary state funds and old working habits that strangle elements such as good governance and DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion).
Late last April, a good friend and a football buddy of mine, Naufal Hafeez, passed away.
Talking about the modernisation of our local football and Perak FC, he once said to me: “Live for the future, but long for the past.”
Innovation that works towards sustainability and the ensuing success is what Perak FC and Malaysian football in general, need to embrace, in order to thrive.
Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa wrote in his epic novel The Leopard: “Everything must change, so that everything can stay the same.”
This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.
