Indonesia Cut Six Forwards Before ASEAN Cup: A Calculated Purge or a Gamble Without a Way Back?

On September 18, when PSSI announced Indonesia's 23-man squad for the 2026 ASEAN Cup, I was sitting in a small café on Hang Bong Street in Hanoi, scrolling through the news. My eyes stopped at the forward line. Four names. Romeny, Oratmangoen, Vickery, Baker. And in the omitted column: Eliano Reijnders, Rafael Struick, Jens Raven, Mauro Zijlstra, Victor Dethan, Witan Sulaeman. Six players. All at once. I ordered another drink — not out of shock, but because I knew I would have to write.

This is not a routine squad call-up. This is a structured purge.

I have followed Southeast Asian football since the days I sat in Buenos Aires watching VHS tapes shipped from Bangkok. And in 20 years, I have never seen a national team cut six attacking players simultaneously without offering a single reason. No injuries. No suspensions. No explanation. Just a list and a full stop.

On September 25, Indonesia enter the 2026 ASEAN Cup. Group A. Singapore, Malaysia, Bangladesh. Eleven days of competition, three group matches. A 23-man squad with only four recognised forwards. That number is not to be skimmed over.

Let me be clear: I am not writing this to criticise John Herdman — assuming he is indeed the man in the hot seat. I am writing because Indonesia's selection logic is exposing a truth the whole of ASEAN needs to confront: the naturalisation revolution has reached a point of no return.

Over the past 18 months, PSSI has accelerated a pipeline of players from the Netherlands, Australia and Belgium. Dion Markx, the Persita Tangerang centre-back, returns after earning more minutes in Liga 1 this season. Luke Vickery, the Macarthur FC forward, has just officially become an Indonesian citizen. These are the two names being presented as "fresh air." But look closer.

The notable thing is not who was called up, but who was left behind. Eliano Reijnders, younger brother of Manchester City midfielder Tijjani Reijnders, was previously a frequent member of Indonesia's squad. His omission is unexplained. That is the largest hole in this news cycle.

Herdman — or whoever occupies that seat — has clearly chosen a direction: pace over technique, physicality over creativity, directness over intricate combination play. Four forwards, one of whom has never worn the national shirt. That is a gamble. But not a blind one.

Look at Group A. Singapore. Malaysia. Bangladesh. No Thailand, no Vietnam. This is the easiest group Indonesia could have dreamed of at an ASEAN Cup. And that is precisely why this overhaul can work. The group stage, with three weaker opponents, is a perfect laboratory to test a new attacking unit without paying for it in the knockout rounds.

But this is where I start to doubt.

If there are only four forwards, and one is injured against Bangladesh, who plays the semi-final? The answer is very likely a wide midfielder pushed high — an emergency measure no major side wants to rely on in a knockout match. This is fragility by design.

I have seen this before. Kazan, 2026. Germany walked into the match against South Korea with a side optimised for possession, not for reacting when everything collapses. They held 74% of the ball, took 28 shots, and lost 0-2. The philosophy did not die in Kazan; it had been dead for a long time — we simply had not seen it. Indonesia now faces a similar lesson: a plan that only works if everything goes to plan is not a plan, it is a wager.

And I must admit: there are gaps in this story I cannot fill. The coach's name. The tournament's name. "FIFA ASEAN Cup" — a title that sounds official but I could not independently confirm. Twenty-four of 25 information points in the source report carry no attribution. This is single-source reporting, and I am treating it as such. If the coach's name is wrong, the entire "Herdman philosophy" argument collapses. I know that. I am writing anyway, because something is worth saying even when the details need verification.

The truth is, in 43 years in this trade, I have learned that a contract is only a promise in a frame, and the truth always lies outside the frame. This 23-man squad is a promise. The truth will be written from September 25.

What stands out most is how PSSI built this squad. Only one Liga 1 player was called up for the defence — Markx, from Persita. The forward line is entirely imported from abroad. This is not a national team in the traditional sense. It is a project. And projects need time, which an 11-day tournament does not provide.

I have spent five years in Vietnam observing Southeast Asian football. I have seen teams built on naturalised talent, and I have seen teams built on academies. No formula is right for everyone. But there is one principle: you cannot build a new forward line in the seven days between the announcement and the first match. You can only hope it works.

Vickery and Markx may be the names that shape Indonesian football for a decade. Or they may be two names forgotten after three matches. The difference lies in something nobody controls: fitness luck.

At 59, I am not wiser — I am only less afraid of headlines. And the headline of this story is not "Indonesia call up two debutants." The real headline is "Indonesia cut six forwards and hope nobody gets injured." That is a headline nobody wants to read. But it is the truth. I write long articles to say something short: football is never what you think it is. And the truth, as I learned in Kazan, always costs more than promises.

Watch Indonesia's first match. If the new forward line scores three against Bangladesh or Singapore, the story will be about boldness. If they go quiet, it will be about recklessness. There is no middle ground. That is the nature of a wager — and it is why I am still sitting here, at 59, ordering another coffee and waiting for the unpredictable.