Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer (38 page)

Unfortunately, my
three guys enacted such an unrefined approach that they set off alarm
bells all over the place. The president of the Haitian FA noticed
that his players were being way too friendly with Alassane, Sivarajan
and Bee Hoon and decided to brief them on the perils of match-fixing.
Our jig was up, so I simply told my boys to keep on friendly terms
with the players and to back off for the time being.

A week or so later,
the CONCACAF Gold Cup finally kicked off and I traveled to the United
States with Alassane. He was working for me full-time at that stage,
or so I thought. The first team I approached while in the US was
Grenada but my contact with their delegation advised me to be
patient. He suggested that I let the boys play the first two matches
freely and then decide what they should do on their third match.

"When we are
out of contention", he said, "then we will play the third
game as you please".

Grenada lost it's
first two matches and were standing last on the table. They were set
to play against Honduras near Boston when I chose to make my move.
Since my falling out with Ah Kang, I was quickly running out of
money, so I decided to call Dan and Admir to obtain their financial
support.

"Dan", I
said, "I'm in the US. I have a business proposal for you. I've
got a hold of Grenada. Would you like to do something together?"

"Let me talk to
my partners and then I'll get back to you", was Dan's reply.

A few moments went
by then Admir picked up the receiver.

"Hi Admir, how
are things?" I asked. "I was telling Dan about a Gold Cup
business proposal for you guys. Would you all be interested?"

"You fucker",
hissed Admir. "You treat us like enemies, you don't call us for
any of your games, and now you show up asking for money? Let me
discuss it with my partners then I will call you back".

Admir hung up the
telephone, then, about half an hour later, he called me back.

"OK, we're
coming over", Admir said. "What team did you say you had?"

"I have
Grenada", I explained. "They're willing to rig their last
group stage match in Boston. You guys should hurry and come over".

"See you in
Boston then".

I hung up the phone
then immediately realized that I had forgotten to ask Admir
something; my credit had run out so I turned to Alassane.

"Alassane",
I asked, "I have no credit. Pass me your telephone".

The fucker began
pulling his phone away from me.

"Alassane",
I insisted, "give me the fucking mobile, I just need to make one
quick call".

He passed the phone
over reluctantly. As I was about to dial Admir's number, my eyes
landed on Alassane's call log. There was a Slovenian number among his
last outgoing calls, I could tell from the country code: +386.

"Fuck", I
thought, "a Slovenian number. Did I accidentally call this
number right now?"

I was confused. I
picked up my phone and checked against the number on Alassane's
mobile. It wasn't the same number.

"I didn't call
this number", I thought.

Then it struck me.

"Mother-fucking
snitch".

I gazed bitterly at
Alassane.

"What the fuck
are you calling Admir for?" I roared at him.

"No", he
was cornered, "Admir called me when I touched down in the
States. And I just happened to return his call now".

"You
mother-fucker", I shouted. "Do I look like a child to you?
Don't you fucking undermine my intelligence. I've known Admir for
almost six months. This mother-fucker never calls me and now you're
saying that he calls you? Why the fuck would he want to call you?"

It was all clear,
Alassane had betrayed me. He was two-timing me; he pretended like he
was working for me but was actually reporting my every move to Dan
and the others.

"Let me tell
you something", I said to him. "This is the last time
you're working with me".

I didn't want to
confront Alassane any further but he was definitely off my list from
that moment onward. I dialed Admir's number.

"I just wanted
to double check that everything is OK", I said.

"Yes, it is",
replied Admir. "Confirmed".

Admir
and Dan landed in Boston for the Honduras vs Grenada match on July
11
^th
,
2009. I gathered the Grenadian players before me in a hotel. The boys
were more than ready to do business.

"Where the fuck
were you guys for the past two matches?"
they
asked.

"Your guy said
not to trouble you during the first two games", I argued.

"Fuck him",
they replied. "We're not going anywhere. We're never going to
win the Gold Cup; it is either the US or Mexico. It's always the same
story and we have no intention to rewrite history, we just want to
take some money home".

And so they did.
Honduras vs Grenada, 4-0. The boys conceded two goals in the first
half and two in the second half as instructed. They were a fully
committed team and made for one of the easiest wins we ever
accomplished. Dan and his partners must have made around two million
dollars on that match alone. The volumes were high enough to allow me
to place 600 thousand dollars behind their backs and walk away with
close to one million dollars in my pocket.

That evening I paid
the Grenadians and left Boston for Glendale, Arizona, to speak to the
Nicaraguan players. Nicaragua had lost to both Mexico and Guadalupe
in their preceding fixtures, were also out of contention and were set
to play their final group stage match against Panama on the following
day. I summoned a friend from Argentina named José who could
provide me with a real-time translation to and from Spanish and
invited the Nicaraguan players out to a strip club.

"Sit down,
let's have a drink".

I wanted to show
them that we were willing to spend money on them.

Among the
Nicaraguans, the only one that could speak decent English was a young
defender called Armando. I forget why, but Armando was born in El
Salvador but played for Nicaragua. Having found someone who could
understand me, I began to articulate my proposal without Jos
é
's
help.

"You lost two
matches and have nothing left to play for", I told them. "Now
there is one last mountain to climb with nothing at stake if you
reach its summit. I can give you 80 thousand dollars, about 15
thousand to each of you, if you lose this match. Why not take this
money that's here waiting for you? You must be some dumb fuckers if
you let this opportunity slip away".

At the end of the
evening, the players were yelling on the dance floor.

"Wilson!
Wilson!"

The Nicaraguans and
I stayed in the same hotel. I saw them before the match against
Panama and paid them 40 thousand dollars in advance. I had the entire
sum with me in cash so I just handed it over to them. Then I called
Dan and Admir to tip them off on the result; it was just a good-will
gesture on my part. I was fixing the Nicaragua game on my own; the
volume for the game was real big and I had my pockets loaded so I
didn't need Dan or a betting house to place my bets. I invested my
one million dollars on the match and the Nicaraguan players delivered
perfectly. The final score was Panama 4, Nicaragua 0. I was the boss
and was now fixing on my own once again. After the game, my one
million dollars had doubled to two million.

I had not done my
homework on Nicaragua and hadn't realized how so-fucking-broke they
were; theirs was among the poorest countries in the world. The
following morning, word had spread among their delegation that there
was a guy distributing money like he were Santa Claus and a long
procession formed in front of my hotel room. Young reserve players
knocked at my door with a sad face.

"Hey boss",
they asked, "give us some money, boss".

"OK, here are
one hundred dollars for you, two hundred for you".

Even some senior
officials made it to my doorstep.

"Do you have
something for me?"

"Here, take
five hundred dollars and go quickly".

I didn't have the
heart to turn them away. I gave them whatever I had, from players to
officials, and left the hotel with only 100 dollars in my pocket.

On
the same day of the Panama vs Nicaragua game, while I was still in
the US, Zimbabwe's adult national team was supposed to land in
Malaysia for two friendlies against the host team that I had
arranged.
I
must admit that, over the years, the Football Association of Malaysia
never asked me any uncomfortable questions. I just needed to call
them.

"Would you be
available for this match?"

I never paid the
Malaysia FA any corruption money or fee;
with
the
exception made for the sponsorship
deal to bring Lesotho and Zimbabwe to the Merdeka Cup in 2007, there
was never any money changing hands. They needed sparring partners for
their international friendlies and, so long as the opposing team flew
all the way to Malaysia with no additional cost for the FA, they were
saving money. All they needed to do was send the invitation out to
the other FA and wait for a reply.

"Would you like
to come and play?"

The other FA would
reciprocate.

"Yes",
they would say, "we're coming over on this day, so long as you
provide us with local hospitality".

When the paperwork
was completed, the guest team would fly over and play.

Once
again,
Jumbojumbo had prevented the
national team from leaving Zimbabwe for Malaysia but, this time
around, Rosemary decided to react. She chose a local club, Monomotapa
United, to pose as the Zimbabwean national team and provided them
with the national team's jerseys. I was never personally involved in
picking the players for a national team so I was not informed - until
it was later exposed - that the team representing Zimbabwe was
actually a local club.
I
wasn't there when they played the two matches against Malaysia, I was
still in the US. I had instructed Thana, who was on the ground for
me, on my modus operandi.

"My method
doesn't contemplate intimidating people", I had briefed him. "I
don't think that the fear-factor will produce the result that we
need. I prefer speaking to the players nicely. Then I bring them into
my friendship circle and treat them like buddies. Finally, I just
make them understand: 'This is your own match. It's your money. But
for fuck's sake, don't fuck it up'".

A good profit is
usually enough to convince a player to fix; I don't need to
intimidate anyone. I have never owned a gun or hinted that I carried
one; a five-star treatment is always the better option.

When the Zimbabweans
touched down in Malaysia, Thana was waiting for them. He took over
and ran the errands, taking care of the team's welfare. 'Welfare'
meant luxury hotels, being chauffeur-driven and perhaps spending a
night with some acquiescent girls. The fake
Zimbabwe
team lost it's first match against Malaysia 4-0. They were supposed
to fight their second game and keep it 0-0, instead, they lost again
by one-nil.

In the meantime,
Alassane had brought the Haitian team to Dan and had gone from being
my runner to becoming Dan's trusted associate. I don't know if Dan
and Alassane fixed the Mexico vs Haiti Gold Cup quarter-final that
ended 4-0 or other matches with the Haitians; all I knew was that
Alassane had betrayed me and was off my list for good.
Despite
having done business together with Grenada and my free tip on the
Nicaragua match, Dan continued to treat me like an enemy. He wanted
to prove that he could snatch my teams from me and run them under my
nose. He had already done so with Lebanon and with Haiti; then came
Zimbabwe's turn. For some reason, Dan enjoyed attempting to crush my
ego. By then I knew that he could be a real asshole and that there
was really no honor among thieves in his book. During Zimbabwe's trip
to Bahrain in March of that year, Alassane had met a Zimbabwean FIFA
match agent called Shaka. Dan used Shaka to bring the Zimbabwe
Under-21 national team to Bulgaria for a friendly match in July 2009.
It was very rare for an Under-21 African team such as Zimbabwe to
travel to Bulgaria for a friendly game; I can safely assume that any
African nation going to play in Bulgaria at that time was brought
there by Dan. Zimbabwe lost the game by 5-0, all five goals being
netted in the second half.