Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer Read online

  "Old Chinese men gambling on football at Jalan Besar", Kanan had said.

  Kanan and I were persuaded that we had football knowledge and here were these old men; Chinese men. What did they know about football? I was sure that we would have been able to outsmart them quite easily.

  "Fuck", I replied to Kanan, "let's go and check it out".

  The old Chinese men sat in the bookies corner of Jalan Besar's regular Grand Stand. Although gambling was illegal in Singapore, everybody knew that there was a bookies corner in the stadium, even the police and the Football Association officials. It had been there ever since the 60's, before I was even born. No ordinary fan would occupy the 50-or-so seats where the old Chinese men sat, nor did any law enforcement officer ever attempt to give them any trouble. It was like a hobby for these Chinese men: they would get off work then spend the evening at the stadium where they would sit down, have a cup of tea and gamble on any of the teams that played. The early birds would usually begin the day with a conversation about the upcoming fixture. Most of the time no one had a clue as to whom the players on the pitch were, so the bookies would have to wait until several minutes into the match to figure out the standard of the teams and offer the adequate odds on handicap and total goals scored.

  Red team would kick off against White team and then, about five minutes into the match, the bookies would shout, "Give you half-ball on Red", and open the gambling.

  Back then, there were the Singaporean Business House League, the Local National League and the Inter Constituency tournament; all of them were amateur competitions. The international fixtures that were played in Singapore were the South East Asian games, the Asian Games and so on. There was a guy called Tai Sun, whom we called HQ. Bookies and punters would call HQ's home to find out where the daily match was going to be played; there were several stadiums in Singapore and HQ was our control tower. How Tai Sun had become HQ is something that I had never bothered to ask but he always sounded very enthusiastic when he answered the telephone to dispatch bookies and punters to the respective venues.

  "Today is Toa Payoh Stadium", he would announce.

  "OK".

  "7:30 p.m."

  "I'll be there".

  My friends and I would punt all kinds of bets, but only on football; I don't bet on anything else. I don't exactly know why, but football was always the number one sport in Singapore among Indians and Malaysians. Singaporeans could be seen playing football in parks, basketball courts or in the streets at any given time of the day. Singaporean Indians don't indulge in cricket; they will slap you if you even mention that sport. I still cannot understand cricket; a grown man throwing the ball then running back and forth. And the weirdest thing is that a match can continue until the following day. What kind of sport is that? Fortunately I'm from Singapore; if I were born in India, I'd probably be fixing cricket matches right now.

  Very few Chinese Singaporeans play football; they prefer basketball. When you drive by their blocks in Singapore you will see basketball courts everywhere but, to this day, I have never seen a Chinese basketball player in Singapore slam dunk or even touch the rim. Usually, after the Chinese had finished playing basketball, the basket-posts would become our goals, the basketball court our pitch, and we would play five against five or four against four.

  We also played a lot of seven-aside football in those days, especially during the weekends. Seven against seven; two reserves; a regular pitch; each half-time, five minutes. They don't play that kind of football in Europe and, trust me, it's very tiring; within five minutes you'll be dying. There could be anywhere from 50 to 100 teams participating in a single competition: three pitches, five minutes, the teams divided into four groups. We would sit down and wait for an hour, sometimes an hour and a half, between games and would pass the time by playing blackjack. I had my own team called 'Brazilian Boys', a team that still exists to this very day, and I organized seven-aside and eleven-aside tournaments. I met many of my friends and later associates during those matches but never fixed any of them.

  During the weekdays, my national service was keeping me very busy. At one point I was even transferred to serve in the school of Combat Medics.

  "What the fuck am I going to do with a combat medic certificate?" I asked myself. "I've got no interest in the medical field".

  Singapore has a defense force just for namesake: Who can we fight? A small, tiny island like this one. But the combat medic course was very tough because you had to carry a heavy bag and go through CPR and all kinds of other medical nonsense. Fuck. It was too much strain for the 150 dollars per month that they paid me. One of my friends was in the commando unit, three bars on his shoulder, red beret on his head.

  "You can find a loophole", he suggested, "and get out of the combat medic unit".

  "How?" I asked.

  "Just pretend that you have epilepsy".

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, sure. Pretend to have an epileptic attack. You fall on the ground shaking and they will discharge you from the course".

  During a weekend leave I went home. My father had since sold our strip of land in rural Chua Chu Kang and we had moved into a flat in Woodlands, a newly-developed neighborhood situated further north, near the Johor Causeway to Malaysia. From Woodlands, I took a taxi to the Toa Payoh stadium to watch the football game, then phoned a friend.

  "Call an ambulance", I told him.

  I faked an epileptic attack, the ambulance arrived and I was given a three-day medical leave. On the following Monday, I went to see my camp's medical doctor.

  "Here", he handed me a slip of paper. "Submit this certificate".

  Next I knew, I was discharged from the course. I was left to water the plants, the only important task requested of me being my presence. Not three months went by and I was shoved into yet another course. I became a clerk and was posted to a unit near my home. I wanted a way out. There was an athletics competition that I was going to take part in as a representative of the Singapore Armed Forces so I went to see the army captain in charge of athletes and demanded more time for training.

  "OK, you can attend camp half-day", he said and handed me a permit.

  After completing my duties at camp, I was supposed to train, but didn't. I just did a bit of running here and there to keep fit. I was losing interest in athletics, nevertheless, we won the competition and became champions. My friend won the first tier and I won the second. We were 'ditched', which meant that we didn't have to attend camp for six months, and the entire staff was furious with me.

  "How can this fucker get such treatment?" they complained.

  No more stinking camouflage uniform; I could go back to gambling.

  Hokkien was the gambling language in Jalan Besar stadium. The Chinese have many, many dialects; hundreds of them. I can't speak much Mandarin but I can speak Hokkien. It's a street language; many Singaporeans speak it. If the conversation is about football, I can definitely speak Hokkien. When I first began gambling, I couldn't understand Hokkien that well, nor could I understand the odds, but I picked up both along the way.

  Half-ball, half-one, then it goes to one, then to one-and-a-half. If you ask a stranger on the street, he'll say: "What the fuck is one, one-and-a-half? What's 0.75? What's total goals? What's handicap?"

  Unlike the United Kingdom, where odds are expressed in fractions, in Singapore the odds are measured in decimals. They start off even, at zero, then gradually increase to 0.25, 0.5, 0.75, 1, depending on the strength of the teams on the pitch. By multiplying the odds with the amount of money that you bet, you can calculate how much you are going to profit in case of a win. But I guess you need to be a gambler to fully grasp the meaning of the odds.

  A lot of people don't know the difference between a bookmaker and a punter. A punter is a person that gambles his money on football, horse racing or whatever. A bookmaker is a person who collects and sells bets for a profit. I am not interested in being a bookmaker; I'm a punter. I counter the bookmaker's odds and give him be
tter odds. Then, if he still wants to pick the same team that I chose, he'll have to counter me with better odds yet. We counter one another until I think it advantageous to accept his offer. For example: Brazil vs Italy.

  "I take Brazil and give you half-ball", the bookmaker will say. "I win you even money".

  And I'll counter: "I take Brazil, give you half, and I win you nine".

  Whatever you counter is open to everybody else. Like in a marketplace, the others may choose to collect your bet or to counter your odds. We all sell at a certain price and buy at a certain price. When you're comfortable with the price, you buy. When the offer is closed, someone else may come to you and ask: "Do you have a bit of stock? I want to share with you".

  And you better hand out a share or else they will curse you so badly that you will surely lose your bet.

  Why did I start gambling? Take Tiger Woods, for instance. He had everything one could desire from life: a nice family, an enviable bank balance; but he sat in the casino all night at the blackjack table. Man's thinking power is always eclipsed by his libido and Tiger is no exception to this rule. John Terry wagers on greyhounds, Wayne Rooney bets on horses and so does Michael Owen; and when Rooney has to pay up, he tells the bookies that he cannot settle his debt and blames Owen for his gambling addiction. And the list goes on and on; these are all people who have money and fame but still look for thrills in the form of gambling.

  Then there are those that gamble for the money alone, hoping to win. Money is essential for survival. People need thrills and people want money. Who doesn't want money? I want to drive a nice car, I want to live in a nice house.

  Gamblers all have their secret winning formulas, although these formulas are seldom successful. A true punter never gives up, even if he is sinking deeper and deeper into debt. When you've scratched the bottom of the barrel, you are prepared to do anything to win; even cheat. Ben Johnson and Marion Jones were top athletes but when they couldn't make it on their own anymore, they used steroids. Politicians rig elections to get elected. The world is a filthy place to live in.

  Until very recently, European betting was ancient, stone age, stupid gambling. Three hundred years ago people would gamble that way. Manchester United to win against Wigan Athletic FC: for every dollar you bet on Man Utd, you win 20 cents; 4 dollars for a draw and 12 dollars for Wigan's victory. Who the fuck wants 20 cents? No gambler in his right frame of mind should ever accept such a rotten deal. You can take Wigan but they will never beat United in a hundred years. How on earth can you bet that way? And why should I have to pick the right result among three possible choices: win, lose and draw? It's too difficult that way. It's a three-way gamble.

  Asian betting is just two-way: 50-50 chance. Now that's how you're supposed to bet. They put a two-ball handicap on Wigan, meaning that Man Utd has to win by three goals to clear the handicap. So now: Manchester United or Wigan, what will you choose? If the match ends 2-0 for United, you don't win, you don't lose; you get your money back. If it's 3-nil for Man Utd, for every 100 dollars you bet, you win 95 dollars, with 5 dollars going to the betting company for their commission. And there are many other variables that you can gamble on: who's going to win the coin toss? Who's going to lead in the first half and at the end of the game? Who's going to win the next corner? How many goals? Your money is credited immediately into your account as we speak. Gambling for 20 cents is simply ridiculous. If there's an even chance to win, then there's a temptation. Unless you want to pick a 12-dollar team like Wigan and hope that they will win against Man Utd. Fuck, no 12-dollar team is ever going to beat United. Unless you fix the match.

  After my six-months leave from the national service was over, I went back to my duties at camp. My chief clerk was not happy with the privileges that I had obtained as a runner and we ended up having a heated argument. She tried to push me around and then wanted to charge me for insubordination but my Commanding Officer provided her with a better alternative.

  "Forget about charging Wilson", he suggested, "I'll take him with me".

  My CO was an old man who had a liking for athletics. He wanted to run the marathon and asked me for advice on his training schedule.

  "How many kilometers am I supposed to run?" he'd ask. "How many days per week? What's the right speed?"

  I became the CO's personal assistant. There were two of us, myself and a friend, with practically nothing to do. I spent my days on the telephone. My CO would walk by, look at me and ask: "You're on the phone again, Wilson?"

  Then he would just walk away. Again, our attendance was the only requirement. We had to show up on time or else we would end up in confinement. Guard duty was once a week and I would pay someone else to do it in my place. One hundred Singapore dollars well spent so that I could go to the football stadium and gamble.

  In Singapore, we have many ethnic groups. If you say, "He's a Singaporean", you are not defining the person as a Chinese, Indian, or Malaysian. But if you say "Indian", it is a lot easier to identify someone, so people say, "He's an Indian", even though the person is a Singaporean national.

  Usually Kanan and I would be the only Indians at the Jalan Besar stadium. There would be a couple of Malaysians and the remaining 30 or 40 people present were Chinese. The Chinese are inveterate gamblers; it is in their blood. You give them a box of match-sticks and they'll come up with a way to gamble on it; they are very ingenious when it comes to betting.

  The Chinese bookies and punters at Jalan Besar stadium used to prey on newcomers and novices that didn't know how the odds worked; they were like a pack of wolves and Kanan and I initially lost most of our bets. The bookies immediately realized that we preferred to take the favorites and would team up against us and manipulate the odds. If we chose the White team, they would counter the odds and push the handicap up from half to half-one and then to one and would finally collect a good amount of cash. If we picked the Red team, they would say, "OK. 50 dollars on Red, that's it", and they would close the betting. But when we began to offer higher odds, they came to us like bees to honey. So one day, after a heavy loss, I said to myself: "OK, you mother-fuckers. You want to play this game with me?"

  I decided to bring their game to their doorstep. I had taken up football at a very late stage so I never made it into the top league, but I occasionally played for some lower division teams and in the seven-aside tournaments. This meant that I had enough friends to assemble two squads. I booked the stadium from the local Sports Council two weeks prior to the game: 180 Singapore dollars and you could have the floodlights and the stadium all to yourself for two full hours. I invited 32 friends, split them into two teams and borrowed two sets of jerseys. Each player was promised 50 dollars for participating in the match.

  Singapore was a small city, you know, if you called the local paper to inform them that a match was scheduled, they would print it in the 'Today's Events' column for free; and that's what I did. I made up a random name for a cup and advertised its grand final on the local paper. To make the bait more appealing, I said that the match was between two fast-food chains' teams. Saying that the match was a final meant that, given the importance of the fixture, more money could be wagered on the game. I also provided a referee; he was not an official referee, he was just a friend who was initially supposed to play, but he accepted to be the match official in exchange for 500 Singapore dollars. I bought him a black outfit; black, black, black, gave him a whistle and he became our referee.

  On the next morning, Tai Sun read the paper as usual.

  "Oh, look", he must have thought, "there is a game today".

  HQ immediately proceeded to inform all the Chinese bookies and punters about the match and they flocked to the stadium. Before kick off, I made one team look better than the other and arranged for two friends to place bets on my behalf; I wanted to gradually increase the betting volume that we wagered without raising too many eyebrows. My friends began by offering odds for the underdogs but had to be careful and avoid jumping the gun. I also did my own
gambling on the side to maximize my profits.

  The referee blew the whistle. First half: the Reds attacked without intermission. They were the favorites and the first 45 minutes ended with them leading 3-0. Then, at half-time, when we insisted on offering odds for the White team, the bookies and punters all rushed to us and started pestering us, asking for more; only then did we gradually offer more bets. One thousand, two thousand, five thousand; before the second half-time had kicked off, we had accumulated wagers worth at least 15 thousand Singapore dollars, a huge amount for an amateur game. I switched the best players from one side to the other and instructed them and the referee on what the final outcome of the game would be. In the second half, the Whites attacked and the tables were turned. The final score was 4-3 for the White team. That's when the mother-fuckers realized that they had been duped.

  "Oh, he just fucked us up nicely", I heard some of the bookies saying in Hokkien. "The fucker fixed the match".

  After the game there was no retaliation nor any argument. They sensed that I had fucked them up but could not prove it. They had no evidence that the players were my friends. They lost and they paid, that's it. If they had started a fuss, they would have lost their face and people would have said to them: "Mother-fucker! You lose and you've got no money to pay up?"

  Any delay in the payment of a loss would have damaged their credibility and none of them wanted to lose their reputation over a few thousand dollars.

  "If you outsmart me then the fault is mine because I allowed you to do so", that is how we perceived a fixed match.

  Fixing already existed in Singapore at a higher level and everybody knew about it; it's not like they had seen a rigged game for the first time. But until that day, no one had outsmarted the Chinese bookies and punters in Jalan Besar stadium. From that day onward, they stopped fucking around with me.