It was a friendly match between Bali United and Persija team from Jakarta.
But before we even arrived at the Bali stadium, a fight broke out between rival fans.
As the fight raged in the crowd, we started recording a piece on camera.
But angry fans didn’t want us to film and tried to take away our cameras.
Two months ago, the the league was closed for two weeks after an incident of violence between fans which sent shockwaves through this football-mad nation.
In the Indonesian Premier League, it is common for only a team’s supporters to be allowed into the stadium, so great is the fear of violent hooliganism.
But in September, Haringga Sirla, 23, a member of the Jakarta fan club Jakmania, went to a match against the Persib team from Bandung, in defiance of such a ban.
He was not wearing his team’s colors, but one of the rival Vikings fans recognized him as a member of Jakmania.
He was attacked by a mob and beaten to death as hundreds watched, filming the attack and sharing it online.
The first time I watched this shaky video, I had to close my eyes.
But I knew immediately that this was a story we had to cover.
When I brought it up at our weekly office meeting, it was our cameraman Phil Hemingway who thought it was something bigger than news.
He suggested that we should contact a foreign correspondent.
It was easy talk: the brutality of this murder, the prospect of photos of fans rampaging through the stands with flares and regular bouts of sometimes deadly hooliganism, the history of team rivalries that led to players being transported to matches in armored vehicles for their own protection, the reason behind the unbridled passion of fans who pile onto buses and often ride on them Teen Wolf-style as they rush down the highway to get there. at matches.
Cameraman Phil Hemingway (left) knew there was more to the story than just news. (ABC News)
It was a story made for a foreign correspondent.
What we didn’t know when we attended this match in Bali was the rampant corruption – largely controlled by an international gambling mafia – that is sending fans into a frenzy.
But we’ll talk about that later.
We had gone to Bali to meet the parents of Ari, the 23-year-old who was killed. They had been invited to the match as guests of Jakmania.
No one we spoke to expected any problems. There was no rivalry between the Bali and Jakarta team fans.
And if there was going to be violence or rowdiness, we expected it to come from the so-called “Jakmania” fans in the Indonesian capital, not the Balinese who are famous for their welcoming smiles and laid-back nature.
The fighting on the front therefore put us on edge.
Phil and I went into the stands to film Ari’s parents, then met one of Jakmania’s most radical commanders, Irlan Alarancia.
It was easy to find potential troublemakers: their faces were covered with balaclavas or black shirts.
When we tried to film them, they were unimpressed, pushing us away and making rude and sometimes threatening gestures.
That’s when we noticed what was happening at the nearby Bali stalls.
Thousands of shirtless fans shouted furiously at referees and team officials.
They began lighting flares and throwing them onto the field, effectively ending the game.
Armored police trucks took to the field with water cannons at the ready.
Dozens of riot police with shields took to the field.
This did nothing to calm the Bali United stands.
We wanted to get closer to the action.
We had attended a few matches by then and were always greeted warmly, which is a bit of a novelty, I suppose.
We took a long walk out of the Jakarta stands, around the barbed wire outside and entered the Bali United area.
But as soon as we exited the stairwell – I’m talking less than three seconds – we were attacked by rabid fans who pushed us back down the stairs while our brave repairman Ambros kept them at bay.
So much for this idea. We didn’t have a single hit.
So we figured the best bet was to get on the field.
The problem was that our media passes didn’t allow it, and we didn’t have the hot pink vest that the official game photographers wore at all times.
Again, we thought we’d give it a try.
Lo and behold, the door closest to us which led directly onto the field was unlocked.
We went straight in, past the riot police and onto the field.
So much for the league’s demands for enhanced security.
What followed was bizarre.
Constant disruptions, flares and attacks from the stands in Bali, dozens of riot police, leaning on their shields, watch everything unfold.
At one point, around ten supporters, their faces covered, jumped to the side of the pitch – and still no reaction from the police.
I guess they were just letting the anger die down on its own and hopefully they would have taken action if there had been a pitch invasion or things had really gotten out of hand.
For an Australian used to fans being kicked out of cricket just for making a snake out of empty plastic cups, it was a bizarre sight – and a reminder of how long the arm of the law extends back home.
After three or four stoppages in play due to noisy fans, the match finally ended without overtime.
David Lipson, Phil Hemingway and producer Archicco Guilianno like to cover a match where the fans haven’t tried to kill each other. (ABC News)
Then the entire stadium was locked down and individual stands were vacated one by one, probably to avoid a riot outside.
What I only realized once I watched the tapes again in Jakarta was that the fans in Bali were chanting “mafia anjing” – “Mafia dogs”.
We thought they were targeting the Jakarta team or the Jakmania fans, but it was their own team officials and the referee who made them angry.
A rumor had spread that the match had been fixed, and then when the score played out exactly as they had heard, they went on a rampage.
Since then, game model and match play experts have claimed that the match was indeed staged.
And there is now a cloud hanging over the Jakarta team’s entire premiership season.
The league boss has resigned following allegations of mismanagement.
His replacement, Joko Driyono, who was also allowed to manage Jakarta’s winning team last year – an obvious conflict of interest – was arrested this week by an anti-soccer mafia task force set up at the end of the season.
He is accused of destroying evidence linked to match-fixing and had his passport confiscated. No one here seems surprised or disconcerted.
Indonesian football, on and off the field, is simply entertaining.
David Lipson spins a piece on camera among a crowd of rowdy football fans. (ABC News)
During the parade in Jakarta, which won the prime ministership, more than a million people took to the streets to celebrate.
Watching the mass of people surge through central Jakarta from our ABC office on the 16th floor, I filmed a few videos on my phone.
The clips were shared more than 1,500 times on social media and were even made into a short video by local media about a foreign journalist interested in Indonesian football.
And despite the bruising rivalries, raging fans and corruption, we were always welcomed with open arms amid the choreographed, drum-beating roar of the abstinent crowd – save for a few minor skirmishes during that Bali match.
So next time you’re in Indonesia, check the schedule: it’s worth joining a match and chances are you’ve never seen anything like it.
Despite deadly rivalries, David Lipson was welcomed with open arms into the wild world of Indonesian football. (ABC News)
Listen to David Lipson’s correspondent report on RN Sunday extra and look at his history as a foreign correspondent, Run Amokon iview.
