Article By : Mohd Amie Rashidi Rasikon(Coach Shidi)
Date : 25th April 2025
Much has been said since last week after the Malaysia Rugby Team lost to Sri Lanka in our attempt to defend our rightful status as a contender in the Asia Rugby Championship. The loss relegated Malaysia back to Division 1. Without discounting the hard work and sacrifices of our players, coaches, and management team—I salute their dedication and effort on the field and during the preparation.
As a rugby practitioner, I feel compelled to speak up—not just for the love of the game, but for the pride of our nation. Watching our national team struggle against the Tuskers, I couldn’t help but see the larger elephant in the room: we need to address the root issues plaguing Malaysian rugby. While discussions are now buzzing about establishing a semi-pro league and other top-level reforms, no one is talking about the urgent need to rebuild from the grassroots up.
Since our entry into the Asia Rugby Championship several years ago, we have operated more like pretenders than contenders—chasing pipe dreams of sneaking into a World Cup spot through the repechage. The results over the years have spoken volumes, and the system we built was no more than a house of cards. And Sri Lanka—a team previously played in a division below us—blew it all down. On paper, our position does not reflect the harsh truth. Sitting at 50th in the world, we now trail behind Sri Lanka by over 10 spots. That’s not just a gap in ranking—it’s a chasm in direction and purpose.
Yes, it’s always easy to point fingers when things go wrong. But perhaps we need to first point them at ourselves. This article is intended as a mirror—an honest self-reflection on our contributions (or lack thereof) to the rugby ecosystem.
To understand the current situation, we must go back to where it all began. Rugby in Malaysia was historically an elite game, played in boarding schools and British colonial institutions—army, police, and amongst expatriates. Until 15 years back, the game remained trapped within this elite bubble, with only a fortunate few exposed to it. The perception of rugby as a brutal or “barbaric” sport also alienated the wider public. Efforts to change this, such as the introduction of “Ragbi Rimau” at the primary school level, deserve praise—but more must be done.
Sadly, many grassroots rugby clubs in Malaysia remain stuck in archaic operational models. Aside from a few well-run clubs, most lack effective management, vision, or purpose beyond “just playing.” Many clubs are alumni-based, originating more as social circles than performance-driven outfits. This creates what I call “Assabiyah Jahiliyah”—a form of tribal loyalty that stifles open collaboration and competitive growth.
Poor governance means there's often no centralized player data, no structure to monitor wellbeing or track development, and no accountability. Players switch teams without oversight, leagues lack consistent standards, and tournaments become diluted. This chaotic environment also blocks commercialization—no sponsor wants to fund an amateurish, directionless setup. If we want to attract real investment, we need structure, professionalism, and purpose.
Which brings us to money—or the lack thereof. People constantly grumble about insufficient funding from both government and corporate sectors. We lament not having a dedicated rugby stadium. We talk about "building a rugby ecosystem" as though it's a magic phrase that will fix everything.
But let me flip the script: how often do you hear someone say, "Are there free tickets to the game?" "Any freebies or discount jerseys?" "Can I get my kid to train for less?" When was the last time you actually bought a Malaysian rugby jersey or paid full price to support local rugby?
An ecosystem thrives only when all components function symbiotically. No ecosystem can grow when parasites sit at the top. A healthy rugby ecosystem demands integrity, governance, commercialization, and consistent value creation. When these are in place, the government and corporates will naturally invest.
I firmly believe that Malaysian school kids are on par—if not better—than their regional peers. In age-group tournaments, they’ve proven they can punch above their weight. But the crucial years between 17 to 21 often go to waste. Without professionally run clubs, structured training programs, or proper nutrition and competitions, these young athletes stagnate.
In nations with thriving rugby cultures, players in this age range are immersed in high-intensity training and competitive leagues, accelerating their growth in tandem with their physical development. We, on the other hand, let our brightest talents fade in poorly organized weekend tournaments and inconsistent coaching.
The solution has always been right in front of us. It’s not that we can’t see it—it’s that we refuse to accept the hard work it requires. The model for sustainable club rugby already exists. Just look at the English Premier League (EPL). Clubs like Arsenal, Liverpool, and Manchester United have survived for more than a century—not because of billion-dollar TV rights—but because of deep roots in their communities.
There are seven clubs from London alone in the EPL. Two from Liverpool. Two from Manchester. These clubs are geographically close, but culturally distinct because each is embedded in its community. That’s their lifeblood. Before the EPL went global, these clubs already had decades of history, hardship, and loyal fans behind them.
We need to do the same—build clubs that serve as pillars of our communities. Clubs that are known, loved, and supported not just by alumni or players, but by the auntie selling nasi lemak down the street, the barber at the corner shop, and the kid who dreams of wearing the jersey one day.
So, let me ask you: which Malaysian rugby club do you truly support? How often do you attend games? Who do you swear your allegiance to?
For a club to thrive, fans are essential. Not just ex-players, ex-students, or company staff forced to show up—but genuine fans with an emotional connection to the club. A strong fanbase translates into commercial opportunities—ticket sales, merchandise, sponsorships, and media deals. Without fans, a club is just a logo and a jersey.
To build a loyal fanbase and achieve long-term commercial success, clubs must establish the right culture. That means cultivating identity, loyalty, and belonging. True fandom isn’t casual—it’s tribal. It weaves itself into conversations, traditions, and pride.
By fostering this through storytelling, community engagement, and consistent visibility, clubs can transform passive observers into active participants. That kind of connection becomes the foundation for sustainability—driving revenue, brand equity, and most importantly, passion.
This whole conundrum often feels like a chicken-and-egg scenario. But let’s stop asking which comes first. Instead, let’s build the coop and prepare the hatchery.
If you’ve read this far and are still wondering whether the finger points at you—it does. We are the stakeholders. We are the parents, coaches, supporters, organizers, and dreamers. We are the ones who will cheer when Malaysia plays on the world stage. We are the rugby community.
As John F. Kennedy once said, “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
Malaysian rugby stands at a crossroads. The issues run deep—poor governance, weak club culture, a lack of funding, and fragmented fan engagement. But the solutions are within reach. We don’t need miracles. We need commitment. Structure. Vision. Passion.
To all Malaysian rugby enthusiasts—parents, fans, players, coaches, and alumni—this is your moment. Support your local club. Buy the jersey. Show up. Speak up. Mentor the next generation. Push for better governance. Start a movement in your community.
Let’s stop waiting for change from the top. Let’s build it from the ground up.
Together, we can elevate Malaysian rugby to the place it truly deserves.
Not just for us—but for the generations to come.