“The FIFA World Cup has 22 players chasing one ball. Malaysian fans spent this tournament chasing one stable stream.” – Anon
THERE are certain events in life that become traditions rather than mere occasions. For me, the FIFA World Cup is one of them. My love affair with football’s greatest tournament began in 1974 when West Germany hosted the World Cup and RTM brought the matches into our living rooms.
Since then, through Argentina, Spain, Mexico, Italy, France, South Korea and Japan, Germany, South Africa, Brazil, Russia and Qatar, I have never missed a World Cup. More importantly, I have never missed an opening ceremony, an opening match or Brazil’s first game.
That ritual has remained intact for more than half a century, even if it meant sacrificing sleep, surviving on endless cups of coffee, and working bleary-eyed after watching matches in the early hours of the morning. Such is the irresistible pull of the World Cup.
That is why this year’s tournament has left me with something I have never experienced before: a big disappointment. Genuine disappointment.For the first time since 1974, I missed the opening ceremony. For the first time in 52 years, I also missed Brazil’s opening match live. It was not because I had lost interest in football. It was because the overall viewing experience simply was not what many Malaysian football fans had come to expect after two decades of seamless coverage.
Let me be absolutely honest. I am frustrated, and I am not going to camouflage my feelings. Judging from the countless reactions on social media and online discussions, I know I am not alone. Many supporters have voiced concerns about streaming interruptions, buffering, delayed feeds, login difficulties and confusion over where certain matches could be watched live.
Whether these issues affected every viewer or only some, they were enough to take away something precious, and that is the excitement of sitting down, switching on the television and knowing that football’s greatest spectacle was about to unfold without interruption.
Perhaps that is why I miss the previous era so much. For 20 years, from 2006 until 2022, Malaysian football fans became accustomed to a viewing experience that many considered the benchmark. Every match was available live, backed by dedicated sports channels, professional production, comprehensive pre-match build-up, insightful half-time discussions and expert post-match analysis.
The World Cup became more than 90 minutes of football. It became an event that occupied our living rooms for an entire month every four years.
I also miss the personalities who helped shape that experience. The late Seberget Singh possessed the rare gift of making football tactics understandable to the ordinary fan. In just a few sentences, he could explain why Brazil’s midfield had collapsed or why a tactical substitution had changed the complexion of a game.
Then there was the legendary Hasbullah Awang, whose unmistakable voice remains one of the most recognisable in Malaysian sports broadcasting. His enthusiasm was infectious. He made every match feel important. Together, they were the perfect combination; Seberget appealed to the mind, while Hasbullah spoke directly to the heart. They were not merely commentators. They became part of our World Cup memories.
Some may argue that football is still football regardless of who broadcasts it. I respectfully disagree. The World Cup is not merely about the 90 minutes played on the pitch. It is about the anticipation before kick-off, the opening ceremony, the tactical discussions, the familiar studio faces and the shared experience of millions of fans watching history unfold together. When those elements are diminished, the World Cup loses some of its magic.
Technology, ironically, is supposed to make life easier. We live in an age of fibre broadband, smartphones, streaming platforms and smart televisions. Yet many fans found themselves worrying about whether the next stream would buffer, whether the application would respond or whether they were watching the match in real time.
Some reported noticeable delays between live play and the streamed feed, meaning celebrations on social media often appeared before the goals themselves. Others resorted to watching delayed telecasts or highlights after struggling to access the live broadcasts. For lifelong football supporters, that represented a step backwards rather than forwards.
I am not writing this column to criticise any particular organisation or individual. Broadcasting rights have become increasingly expensive, technology continues to evolve and every broadcaster faces challenges in delivering a tournament of this scale. I acknowledge that reality.
My concern is much simpler. Malaysian fans deserve the very best possible World Cup experience because the tournament comes around only once every four years. When expectations built over two decades are suddenly replaced by uncertainty, frustration is inevitable.
This brings me to what I believe is a practical idea rather than mere criticism. Malaysia has been here before. In 1982, when financial constraints threatened to limit live World Cup coverage, ordinary Malaysians stepped forward.
The People’s Live Telecast Fund encouraged football fans to contribute just RM1 each. The response was overwhelming. More than RM300,000 was collected, enabling additional matches to be shown live. It was one of the finest examples of how Malaysians united for something they truly loved.
Perhaps it is time to revisit that spirit. Imagine a future partnership involving broadcasters, corporate sponsors, government agencies and football supporters themselves. If broadcasting rights continue to become more expensive, why not explore a transparent crowd-funding model to bridge the gap?
Football fever in Malaysia remains as strong as ever. If supporters know exactly what their contributions will achieve, namely comprehensive live coverage, stable broadcasts, expert analysis and a complete World Cup experience, I have little doubt many would gladly play their part. After all, Malaysians have already shown that willingness once before.
Some may dismiss this idea as unrealistic. I prefer to call it practical optimism. The history is already there. The passion certainly exists. All that is needed is the determination to bring the various stakeholders together before the next World Cup arrives.
For me, this column is not really about technology or television. It is about memories. It is about preserving an experience that has accompanied me for more than half a century. I miss knowing that every Brazil match would be waiting for me live.
I miss the familiar voices in the studio. I miss the certainty of switching on the television without wondering whether the stream would hold up. Above all, I miss the feeling that the World Cup belonged to every football-loving Malaysian.
Football has an extraordinary ability to unite a nation. It gives strangers something to celebrate together and reminds us that sport transcends politics, race and religion. That is why the World Cup deserves to be experienced in all its glory. My hope is that by 2030, Malaysian fans will once again enjoy the kind of comprehensive, seamless and memorable coverage that made the tournament so special for generations.
After following every World Cup since 1974, I still believe Malaysians deserve nothing less. The World Cup should never become an exercise in buffering, delays and missed moments. It should remain what it has always been: the greatest football show on earth, watched live, shared together and remembered forever.
I end my column with this quote of mine: For the first time in 52 years, I didn’t miss Brazil because they weren’t playing; I missed Brazil because I couldn’t watch them properly!
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at rajlira@gmail.com
