Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer (8 page)

"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 US dollars per month. One night I
decided to approach Michal at the Top 10. After a brief chat, I cast
my hook.

"What if I pay
you to win football games?" I inquired.

Michal was curious,
"How many goals would you need for us to win?"

Michal's following
match was the quarter-finals of the President's Cup to be played in
Jalan Besar against the Police team. I tried to explain the workings
of the odds to Michal, then told him what I wanted.

"This coming
game, win by three goals against the Police team. Do you think it's
possible?"

"I won't
promise anything", he answered, "but I'll try my best.
What's my share in this?"

"I'll pay you
five thousand dollars", I replied.

The year was 1992,
Geylang International FC was the top team in Singapore's Premier
League and Michal was their special player. But this didn't mean that
you could just go out there and win money; you still had to fight the
odds. Geylang was giving 1.5, and winning by two goals would have
sufficed but the Chinese bookies were conspiring against me; the
mother-fuckers had pushed the odds up to 2.5 and I was desperate. I
had already committed to Michal so I placed 40 thousand dollars on
Geylang to win by three goals. In the first half, Michal was like:
boom, boom, 1-0, 2-0. Then, at the beginning of the second half,
there was a big commotion: Michal had not walked out of the changing
room and onto the pitch. I was clueless; I thought that he had been
injured.

"Michal",
the coach had told him during the half-time break, "we still
have the return leg, the semi-finals and the finals to play so I
don't want to field you for the second half. I want you to stay out
and rest".

In the changing
room, Michal had kicked and screamed that he wanted to play but the
coach had been immovable. The match ended 2-0 and I lost my money.

Later that night,
Michal and I met at the Top 10.

"Sorry man",
Michal apologized. "The coach didn't want me to get injured
before the return match. How many goals do you need this time?"

"I need three
goals", I said. "Are you sure that you can give them to
me?"

"This Police
team is a tough one", he considered. "Why do we need three
goals? Can't we just win by one?"

"Fuck", it
was exactly what I wanted to hear from him, "this guy really bit
the bait".

"OK, Michal",
I said, "this is what we'll do". We'll see how tough this
team is this time around. Keep the game on hold during the first half
and don't make any effort to score. I will come to you at half-time
and tell you what I need. I'm not going to say: 'Michal, I want two
goals'. I'll yell from the sideline: 'Come on, Geylang, two more'".

"Good",
said Michal.

My plan was to bet
on Geylang to win by one goal and the odds had started off favorable,
but Pal was also hitting on the match and was collecting so much that
I was forced to bet on two goals. I decided to give 1.5 and I started
throwing 40-50-70 thousand dollars. My ticket was complete within
10-15 minutes from kick off and the score was still unaltered. The
first half closed 0-0, then, as the second half was about to kick
off, Michal ran past the Grand Stand and I shouted at him: "Come
on Geylang! Three more!"

Michal stared at me
as he trotted by with a "Fuck! Three more?" kind of look in
his eyes.

Pam, pam, the match
ended 2-0. Michal scored one goal and created the other for one of
his teammates. That night, Michal and I met at the Top 10 again.

"What the
fuck", he said. "You want three goals in 45 minutes, you
think I'm superman or what?"

"No, no, no",
I laughed as I handed him his share, "two goals were enough, I
just wanted to make sure".

Not many
match-fixers will change their strategy during a game. Most of them
don't like to take chances but I was different; I enjoyed the thrill
of asking players or teams to fight the odds and win a game.

I next approached
Michal for a league game between Geylang International and Jurong FC.

"What are the
chances of you winning by four clear goals", I asked.

"No problem",
he said, "I'll take care of Jurong".

Jurong was another
club that played in the Singapore League and, overall, the league was
pathetic. Then, for the first time in my life, I heard a player
asking me to participate in my betting.

"Can I bet my
own money?" asked Michal.

He was by far the
most intelligent footballer that I had ever come across.

"Of course you
can", I said. "How much do you want to bet?"

"Five
thousand".

"Do you have
the money on you?" I inquired. "Make no mistake: if you
lose, you have to pay up".

"I don't have
the money on me", said Michal. "Meet me at the post office
in Bay Shore Park. Behind".

"OK. I'll see
you there at two o'clock, get your money ready".

I met Michal behind
the post office and he gave me five thousand dollars which I placed
in my pocket. I then made my way to the stadium and walked straight
into the bookies corner to do business.

"Three-ball,
three-ball", croaked the bookies.

"I give you
three-and-a-half", I countered.

They all rushed to
me, "How much?"

"30 thousand
dollars".

"OK", they
said, "deal closed".

The game ended 7-0.
Michal destroyed Jurong, scoring four goals. He was a one-man show;
too fast for that standard and too good. A true demolition-man.

Following the match,
Pal dispatched one of his trusted men, Bryan, to snatch Michal from
me.

Unlike Pal, Bryan
was
an intelligent and educated man. I had known
him ever since I was 15; he was an Indian Tamil like myself and his
home was also in Woodlands, just two blocks away from mine. Bryan
attended Si Ling Secondary School and played goalkeeper in their
football team because, even at that young age, he was already a huge
guy. But Bryan wasn't the first or second choice goalie in the team;
he sat on the bench among the reserves and the coach didn't even let
him change into his uniform. A few years later, I saw Bryan play
again during our seven-aside tournaments and realized that he had
become a true goalkeeper. His dedication was admirable: through hard
work he had climbed all the way to the Singaporean national team; not
in the starting eleven, of course, he was still the second or third
choice on the bench, but the bookies in Jalan Besar had started
calling him "the iron gate". He was not easy to beat and,
at one point, there was even a Hong Kong club that wanted to sign him
on. It would have been a massive achievement for a local goalkeeper
but then, during his national service, Bryan suffered a serious knee
injury while playing rugby and that was it; his career was gone.
Kaput. That's when Bryan started doing business with Pal. Pal found
him useful because Bryan knew the national team's goalkeepers and had
influence over other football players in Singapore.

Bryan came from a
poor family, just like Pal and myself, but seemed to have forgotten
his humble roots. The minute he started making money, he became
arrogant and self-righteous and began walking around with bodyguards
and all. I was told that when he traveled to Thailand, the local
police would escort him from the airport.

"What the
fuck", I asked. "Are you sure?"

There was no need
for him to be arrogant because we all knew where Bryan came from. I
remember that, when we were children, a friend had confided: "Bryan
is stealing shoes outside people's doors".

In Singapore we have
the habit of leaving our shoes outside the door and little Bryan was
often in need of a fresh pair. There is an old Tamil saying that fits
Bryan very well: "No matter how high a sparrow flies, it cannot
call itself a vulture".

I had told some
friends that Michal was on the take with me and the news had reached
Bryan's ears, who immediately relayed the information to Pal. Pal
needed some good players to infiltrate the Singapore national team
so, without my consent, he sent Bryan to approach Michal.

"What are you
doing with this small fish?" Bryan asked Michal. "Come to
me. I bring you the best guy, the big fish".

After snatching
Michal from me, Pal gave me a chance to join his inner circle. He
summoned me and asked: "Who do you know? Who are the players
that you have?"