MALAYSIA ended its campaign at the 2026 Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games with an achievement to be proud of.
The national contingent returned with nine gold medals, surpassing the target set and matching the nine-gold haul achieved at the 2010 Guangzhou Asian Games.
In the old days, such news would have been a talking point for several days. From mamak stalls to roadside eateries, unpaid sports commentators would offer their analysis and opinions. The names of the teams or athletes who contributed gold medals, as well as those who failed to deliver, would all become part of the conversation.
But the mood is different now. Ask your neighbour how many gold medals Malaysia won at the Asian Games this time. Chances are, he would stare at you for a few seconds before asking: "The Asian Games are over? Which country is hosting this year? Vietnam or India?"
That is the reality. Things are very different from before. It is not that our athletes are not good enough. Nor are their victories any less valuable. Nine gold medals on the Asian stage are no small achievement. Asia today is home to sporting powerhouses such as China, Japan and South Korea. Becoming Asian champions in many events means we are actually competing against some of the world's best.
What has disappeared is not performance, but the glamour of the Asian Games themselves. Those who grew up in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s will surely remember how major sporting events were part of everyday life. Apart from the Olympics, the Asian Games were a festival people looked forward to. Competition schedules were sought out in newspapers. The television became the family's command centre. Whenever a Malaysian athlete reached a final, the living room would suddenly turn into a mini stadium.
Today, the Asian Games have to compete not only with other sporting events, but also with Netflix, YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, video games, podcasts and countless other forms of content on our phones. In the past, if RTM broadcast a final involving Malaysia at 8.30pm, we watched it. There simply were not that many other choices.
Now, within five minutes, someone can watch the English Premier League, a video of a cat being startled by a cucumber, a Korean chicken recipe and an influencer explaining how to become a millionaire before the age of 25.
Asian Games athletes are not only competing against athletes from China and Japan. They are also competing against algorithms.
Another problem is that we are increasingly losing sight of the human stories behind sport. People do not actually fall in love with medals. They fall in love with stories. We want to know who the athlete is, where they came from, how many years they trained, how many times they failed and what they sacrificed before standing on the podium.
I was still a child when Nurul Huda Abdullah was achieving one success after another. Coincidentally, we were born in the same year, and I even dreamed several times of holding hands with her. At the time, she was a phenomenon. She was an idol to almost everyone. Her influence was so great that even parents who had previously forbidden their children from playing in rivers would quietly start introducing them to the river. They wanted their children to be as good as the National Swimming Queen.
Yes, Nurul Huda was indeed exceptional. But accompanying her achievements were the stories surrounding her. There was her unique name, as she had a Malay name despite only embracing Islam after marriage. There was also her status as the granddaughter of a Singaporean president.
Today, the great stories about our athletes are becoming increasingly unheard.
This is where the media, sports associations and governing bodies need to change. Promotion of a major sporting event cannot begin just a week before it starts. We need to build the characters and stories much earlier. Introduce athletes to the public. Produce short documentaries, social media content, casual interviews and behind-the-scenes stories. Make the athletes people we know.
Coverage also needs to evolve with the times. Today's generation may not sit for two hours to watch an entire event, but they are willing to follow a 60-second clip, a three-minute analysis or an interesting story about an athlete every day. Draw them in through the small screen so that eventually they will want to watch on the big screen.
We can sensationalise celebrity marital problems, we can make a big deal out of influencers' luxury cars, so why can't we shake the nation with the remarkable stories of our athletes?
Nine gold medals at the 2026 Asian Games should be celebrated. But at the same time, they should make us ask a rather uncomfortable question. If our athletes have become Asian champions but a large portion of the public does not even know who they are, who has actually failed?