it".
The idea of my
father getting charged and going to prison because of me was just too
disturbing to consider so I decided to confess.
"It was me",
I admitted. "I was the one who made the call. Let my father go".
My statement was
recorded and I was released on bail. While awaiting trial for
match-fixing, my passport was impounded so that I would not leave the
country.
With
Singapore out of the Malaysia Cup, bookies started seeking new
ventures abroad. Many of us had gambled on European football matches
but none had ever tried to manipulate them; we thought Europe to be well
beyond our
reach. Once, during one of our poker sessions, I had brought up the
subject with Pal.
"Why aren't we
trying to fix the English Premier League?" I inquired.
"Impossible",
laughed Bryan.
"So long as
footballers are human", I insisted, "anything is possible".
Bryan gave me a
nasty look while Pal didn't flinch; he just kept playing, a smoking
Dunhill dangling from his lips, but the idea had somehow taken root
in his head. Then, in early January 1995, Pal decided to venture for
the first time into Europe. Without the Malaysia Cup to manipulate,
his match-fixing had come to an abrupt end and, following his arrest,
a substantial amount of his wealth had been confiscated by the
Singapore authorities. Bryan was not around anymore; Pal's right-hand
man had left and, although Pal was street-smart when it came to
Singapore, he knew nothing about the world beyond the causeway to
Malaysia. That's why he came to me; he knew that I was intelligent,
that I spoke good English and that I had a way with people and could
get things done. Pal asked me to travel to the UK with his
brother-in-law and see whether we could come up with something in
England to help him climb back to his old splendor. I had nothing
much to do at the time and I too was broke so I agreed.
"All right",
I said to Pal. "Let's go and try".
Pal
took out a loan from one of the gentlemen that participated in our
poker sessions and gave me a little pocket money for the trip. Since
I was out on bail and my passport was impounded, I used a friend's
passport to leave Singapore and travel to the UK. It wasn't a fake
passport; it simply wasn't mine. My friend and I looked somewhat
similar so I didn't even bother replacing his picture with mine; when
white guys see two Indians, they cannot spot the difference between
them anyways.
I had no prior
information about players that fixed matches in England so, randomly,
I chose a match: Liverpool vs Birmingham City, FA Cup replay, January
18 th , 1995.
Birmingham had drawn at home and was now supposed to play the return
leg in Anfield. Liverpool was the overwhelming favorite to win the
match so we decided to set our sights on Birmingham's goalkeeper, Ian
Bennett.
It was my first trip
to the UK; we checked into a hotel in Liverpool. At the reception an
Indian, a Sikh man, worked whom we asked for directions to the closest shopping
center or mall.
"I haven't got
a clue, mate", he shrugged his shoulders.
I had never heard an
Indian speak with a British accent before and my first reaction was:
"Fuck, this Sikh is trying to pretend he's British".
I had no idea that
there were Indians who were born and bred in the United Kingdom and
whose accent was simply British, irrespective of their origin. Later
that day, Pal's brother-in-law and I went to watch a League Cup match
between Liverpool and Arsenal. I called Pal from the stadium.
"Take
Liverpool", I suggested.
I was not a Reds
fan, but after watching their initial performance on the pitch, I
thought that they were going to pull through. As expected, Ian Rush
scored and the home team won. We left the stadium right after Ian's
goal as the weather was unbearable; way too cold to endure.
With a week to go
before the FA Cup replay, Pal's brother-in-law and I traveled to
Birmingham. We took a cab to the club's training ground and
introduced ourselves at the gate as being journalists from Singapore.
The