A GENTLEMAN THROUGH AND THROUGH
The passing of His Royal Highness Sultan Ahmad Shah Al-Musta’in Billah Ibni Almarhum Sultan Abu Bakar may not have come as a shock as he has not been in the pink of health these last two years or so. But even so, his demise made such an impact, that it ran the gamut of emotions for six former sportswriters.
WHAT came upon us was this overwhelming sense of sadness that a good friend had passed, delight that we had some good moments with him both in Malaysia and overseas, and great compunction that another royal of his charm, wit, and humility is not likely to grace the corridors of power in Malaysian football. Not for a long, long time.
For what we all saw in this extraordinary statesman was this sultan and former king who could step out of his royal court, nonchalantly brush aside the protocol, and just become one of us, another football observer and fan who just wanted to see Malaysia in the World Cup finals.
Sultan Ahmad Shah Al-Musta’in Billah Ibni Almarhum Sultan Abu Bakar had none of that arrogance, sometimes portrayed by other royals holding seats of honour in sports associations when they are criticised by the media. On the contrary, the late Sultan Ahmad Shah was receptive to constructive criticism. None of us faced any backlash for our critiques, or were thrown in jail for our adverse comments against a royal.
Johnson Fernandez will attest to this. “Sultan Ahmad embraced criticisms, and there were many. In fact, Sultan Ahmad would even thank the critic. I vividly recall one incident. I had written a highly-critical commentary about Malaysian football. The following morning, I received a call from the then Football Association of Malaysia (FAM) general secretary, the late Datuk Paul Mony Samuel.
“‘Dei, what did you write this time? I haven’t read your column yet, but Tuanku wants to see you tomorrow’.
“We confirmed the appointment, but I didn’t go alone. I brought Fauzi Omar and Lazarus Rokk along. Sultan Ahmad had often referred to us as ‘The Three Musketeers’. And sometimes, depending on the mood of the occasion, ‘The Three Stooges’.
“When we arrived at Istana Pahang along Jalan Ceylon, we were ushered into Sultan Ahmad’s office. ‘Ah there you are, The Three Musketeers.’ Then, he put my
Sunday Mail column in front of him, and what he said after that made me want to hug the man.
“He said in all sincerity: ‘tell me what should I do’.”
That’s Sultan Ahmad Shah for you. It’s that sort of humility that makes him special, that makes dwarves of others. Fortunately, that delightful trait was passed on to his two sons, Al-Sultan Abdullah Ahmad Shah, the present king, and to Tengku Muda Pahang Tengku Abdul Rahman.
Said Lazarus Rokk: “My jostling was mainly with Tengku Abdullah then, the Tengku Mahkota of Pahang who was the FA of Malaysia deputy president. We were both passionate and hot-blooded over Malaysian football. And although we had the same wish for Malaysian football, we were, however, not always on the same page.
“But like his father, the young Tengku Mahkota was never averse to constructive criticism. In fact, even then at his youthful age, he took it on his chin. He would often say, ‘Come on you guys, give me a good challenge, I love challenges’. And we would have our differences ironed out in a healthy discussion over dinner.
“And today, looking back, he would say to the friends around him, drawing laughter all around, that the reason my hair had all dropped was because I had criticised him and his father.
“That was the spirit of the elderly statesman in him. His younger brother Tengku Muda was no different. One of the worst jobs in Malaysian football is to be a manager of a super league team that was in the process of rebuilding, and Tengku Muda had the unenviable task of being Pahang manager then.
“But he was a great sport too, agreeing to disagree, and working out our differences over double shots of espresso. We still have these little tiffs though, but only because I am a hardcore Manchester United fan, and Tengku Muda is a passionate Liverpool fan.”
Hishamuddin Aun said: “I remember it as one of the most highly-anticipated meetings of the FAM Council in Wisma FAM, Kelana Jaya. Sultan Ahmad Shah was in the chair for the very first time, fresh from winning the president’s post unopposed in the FAM elections on Aug 12, 1984.
“That meeting was highly anticipated because football writers then were keen to meet and hear out the Sultan of Pahang for the first time and — if we could muster the courage — ask His Royal Highness one or two questions. Prior to the FAM elections, there was so much talk about his predecessor, Tan Sri Hamzah Abu Samah, being asked to vacate his position for the sultan, who eventually took over the presidency of the Asian Football Confederation (AFC) from Hamzah.
“Hamzah, a former senior cabinet minister and also from Pahang, had helmed the FAM for only eight years from 1976 — a short span that saw the Malaysian national team qualify for the Olympics for the second time in 1980.
“‘Gentlemen of the press…’ Sultan Ahmad Shah began his press conference with a broad smile while he made eye contact with every member of the media present. In just one phrase, we were all bowled over by his kind words and impeccable command of English as he shared with us that many of the things said before the FAM elections were untrue and that he was there all for the betterment of football.
“In fact, Sultan Ahmad spoke very well in outlining his plans for the FAM, alternating between his immaculate Bahasa Malaysia and Queen’s English that impressed everyone.
“‘Do you all think I am in this position for the glamour? You all know I had all the glamour in the last five years, so let us work together to make Malaysian football better,’ he continued while referring to his just-concluded five-year term as the seventh Yang di-Pertuan Agong on April 25, 1984.
“The subsequent years were filled with much respect for the FAM president as he was ever ready to engage with the press, never once showing displeasure
in spite of stinging criticism against the national team and unpopular decisions of the council.
“For Sultan Ahmad Shah, respect must not only be earned but also given as he showed a lot of passion and compassion. He was the gentleman that he had always been while occupying one of the hottest seats in sports.”
Indeed, Sultan Ahmad never demanded respect. Something Tony Mariadass could attest to. “He was sultan and king, but to the sportswriters, he was a friend and one we could criticise if need be, talk to, and discuss with. He always had an ear for sportswriters’ views.
“What touched me most was he would discard protocol and walk out of his formal walk — be it entrance or exit of a function — to have a word, ask about your well-being, or give a word of advice whenever he spots you. It happened to me on numerous occasions.
“I recall in March 1985, when he was the king and as FAM president, he invited a group of sportswriters to fly in the official government jet to watch and cover Malaysia’s 1986 FIFA World Cup qualification — AFC first round match against Nepal at the Dasarath Rangasala Stadium in Kathmandu.
“His Royal Highness made us feel at home and made our trip and short stay so comfortable and memorable.”
But above all, Sultan Ahmad Shah was a dear friend.
Said Fauzi Omar: “He may have been king at one time. Ruled the state of Pahang for almost 45 years. He may belong to one of the oldest royal families in the country. But to us, Sultan Ahmad Shah was, above all, a very good man and a dear friend.
“Yes, so down-to-earth was His Royal Highness that we dare refer to him as a dear friend.
“I’ve known him for over 30 years. And Sultan Ahmad Shah has always been the same man. No matter what the event, he would always break protocol to chat with us.
“He would ask how we were. How was the family. Have we eaten? If we hadn’t, he would instruct those on duty to take care of us. That’s what friends do.
“On other private occasions, he would invite us for meals or coffee and then we would talk about his favourite subject — football.
“When I was working as a correspondent at the New Straits Times’ London office, the sultan would contact me through his aide whenever he was in town. Knowing my love for the shows at London West End, the sultan would always send me tickets.
“On other occasions, he would invite me to his posh London home to share delicacies that his entourage had brought from Malaysia. Only good friends do that.
“Being such a humble man, the late sultan would always appreciate and show respect for our profession. Some officials would bark at us if they didn’t like what we wrote about them. But not the sultan. ‘Good criticism,’ was what he would say.
“Some of us even called for his resignation as president of FAM. Still there wasn’t a nasty word that came from his mouth. To us that was how he understood and respected our profession as sportswriters. And you could imagine how we in turn admire and respect him until today for all those wonderful qualities.
“That is why my biggest regret is that I did not have the opportunity to say a proper goodbye to him. I’ve not seen him since he fell ill a few years back. So for what it’s worth, goodbye, Tuanku. I know you’ll be placed among the righteous.”
And as George Das aptly puts it: “To the sultan of sports, you have left us, but you will not be forgotten. For the footprints you leave behind in football, and in our lives, will live through time.”
Farewell, our dear former king, sultan, friend and legend. We stand in respect and in admiration of Your Highness.