Make or break time in Indonesia

In the same week that Serie A powerhouse Inter Milan is visiting the country, playing to a packed house at the Gelora Bung Karno, there is a real risk that professional football in Indonesia is being brought undone by political infighting, financial instability and general disorganisation.

FIFA is understood to be seriously considering imposing a ban on the Football Association of Indonesia (PSSI) after years of infighting whilst there is a key meeting on Monday in Jakarta with leading players and coaches who are up-in-arms over unpaid salaries – with talk of a boycott being openly discussed.

All of which is incredibly disheartening in a nation of such immense footballing potential and for a people that has a passion for the sport not matched anywhere in the region.

My introduction to domestic club football came last weekend in Jakarta and in many ways spoke loudly of all that's good – and bad – with the sport in the country.

Along with Antony Sutton, author of the fantastic Jakarta Casual blog, I travelled to the city's outskirts to watch a first division match between Persipasi and PSS Sleman.

The visiting side brought seven bus loads of supporters on the 12 hour journey from Yogyakarta. Despite having slept barely a few hours after the epic road journey, most spent the entire match chanting and singing; their support fashioned, they told me, out of the ultras from Italian club football – AC Milan in particular.

The home supporters also turned up in numbers; lighting flares, singing and dancing.

All was well until the referee denied the visitors a clear-cut penalty and the mood turned.

The first sign of what was about to unfold came with the full-time whistle – or at least the first one.

The referee had blown time only to realise he was standing near the centre circle and so, oddly, let the match resume. From there he made his way towards the touchline, blew full-time for a second time, and before the whistle had left his mouth turned and ran full-speed for the dressing rooms.

Before he arrived there was a crowd of 15-20 irate officials and supporters in tow and heaven knows what happened to him.

If the scenes outside were an indication, it can't have been good. Pitch side resembled a battlefield as both sets of players and officials traded punches and kicks, with one even using a green plastic chair to clobber anyone who came into sight.

They made the North Korean women look a group of saints.

One fan was punched to the ground by a policeman, fireworks were raining down from the home stand and it was a general scene of chaos that took almost 10 minutes to clear.

This, mind you, came after an incident several weeks earlier when visiting Persija was forced to flee Persipura's stadium three hours after full-time by boat after it had won 1-0.

Such is the fear of clubs crossing from one competition to the other (the country still has 'official' and 'rebel' leagues operating side-by-side) that no punishment was meted out to the home side.

Those scenes, although over-the-top, show just how deep the passion is for the game here.

Those who know little about football here struggle to comprehend it – crowds of 50,000, 60,0000 even 70,000 are common-place, supporters will travel almost an entire day by cramped bus or minivan or hang off the roof of a train just to see their side play – there's a fanaticism for the sport not seen in many European nations let alone in Asia.

It's a massive country where kids are consistently playing on any available space yet it's being run by two sets of administrators that are seemingly unable to find a medium of consensus about the best way forward for the sport.

Even trying to explain the league structure bends credibility; in a case that makes wife-swapping look straight-forward this year's 'official' league (the Premier League) was last year's rebel league and last year's official league (the Super League) is this year's 'rebel' league with the Premier League's current boss being last year's outcast and vice-versa!

The only common ground between the two is a fight for political influence and an inability to pay player salaries.

The majority of players across both competitions haven't been paid for almost three months and this is the fuse for what should be a lively debate on Monday, as push may finally come to shove and one or both leagues may be shut down.

It's often said that football mirrors the society from which it emerges and in the case of Indonesia that means there may be many years of heartache to come before this sprawling land can fulfill it's undoubted potential.

NOTE: Over the next couple of days I’'l be posting an interview with PSSI's new Technical Director on the challenges facing Indonesia as well as an in-depth feature on the nation's biggest domestic derby –Sunday’'s clash between Persija Jakarta and Persib Bandung.