Ex-footballer recounts Japanese
Occupation, being screened for
execution and 1948 Olympics
Mr Chia's ability to skirt danger on
the field was honed as a teenager
growing up in war-torn Singapore.
SINGAPORE - In his footballing
heyday, Mr Chia Boon Leong was
known as "twinkletoes" for the way
he danced around opponents with
ease.
That ability to skirt danger was
honed as a teenager growing up in
war-torn Singapore, where
he continued to play football, often in
Jalan Besar Stadium and at a field
behind the Singapore General
Hospital, near his family home in
Tiong Bahru.
He was a founding member of Pasir
Panjang Rovers - having grown up
in the area - a cosmopolitan team that
played only friendly matches before
the war as multi-ethnic teams were
not allowed in the Singapore
Amateur Football Association's
leagues.
In about six short years, he went
from being screened as part of
efforts to weed out anti-Japanese
elements - which meant execution
for some - to being selected as one
of two Singaporeans to represent
China in football in London at the
1948 Olympics.
It was an achievement not without
hardship, the 97-year-old told as he
recalled his growing up years.
Ex-footballer
recounts
Japanese
Occupation,
being screened
for execution
and 1948
Olympics
SINGAPORE - In his football-
ing heyday, Mr Chia Boon
Leong was known as
"twinkletoes" for the way he
danced around opponents
with ease.
That ability to skirt danger
was honed as a teenager
growing up in war-torn
Singapore, where he
continued to play football,
often in Jalan Besar Stadium
and at a field behind the
Singapore General Hospital,
near his family home
in Tiong Bahru.
He was a founding member
of Pasir Panjang Rovers -
having grown up in the area -
a cosmopolitan team that
played only friendly matches
before the war as multi-ethnic
teams were not allowed in the
Singapore Amateur Football
Association's leagues.
In about six short years, he
went from being screened as
part of efforts to weed out
anti-Japanese elements -
which meant execution for
some - to being selected as one
of two Singaporeans to
represent China in football in
London at the 1948 Olympics.
It was an achievement not
without hardship, the 97-year-
old told as he recalled his
growing up years.
It was on Dec 8, 1941, at
around 5am, that the realities
of war first hit home for Mr
Chia, who was born on New
Year's Day, 1925.
"All of a sudden, one my
neighbours came to my
house and shouted loudly
'Japanese bombing Singapore
already'," said Mr Chia, who
was then living in Pasir
Panjang, near Yew Siang
Road.
"During the Occupation, as
far as I recall, I was not too
worried. I did not know
what was going on at that
age, so there was no reason
to be anxious," he said.
But in the weeks to come, Mr
Chia left his family home for
Tiong Bahru, where his
family felt they might be safer
from the coming invasion.
He remained there
throughout the Occupation.
While moving away from
Pasir Panjang meant they
escaped a fierce firefight -
the battle of Bukit Chandu
was fought not far away on
Feb 14, 1942 - Mr Chia's
family was still not far from
danger in Tiong Bahru.
Eng Hoon Street, located
about 130m away from
where his family lived in
Eng Watt Street, bore the
brunt of Japanese shelling
in the area, he said.
Within weeks of the British
surrender on Feb 15, 1942,
Mr Chia was told to report
to an inspection site where
Japanese soldiers screened
Chinese men and took away
those suspected of being
anti-Japanese for execution.
The Japanese military
operation, called Operation
Sook Ching, saw Chinese
males between the ages of
18 and 50 summoned to
mass screening centres all
over the island.
"Someone in Tiong Bahru
said to report to an open
area opposite the police
station at the intersection of
Keppel, Tanjong Pagar and
Cantonment roads, so I
went not knowing what
was happening," said Mr
Chia, who was 17 at that
point.
"As a schoolboy I just carried
on and followed instructions.
We lined up, one by one, to
face a Japanese soldier and
some were told to go to a
lorry, I did not know why
then.
"It was only some time later
that we were told those on
the lorries were taken some
where else to be executed."
Mr Chia said he later heard
that his half-brother, a
cousin, and a Pasir Panjang
Rovers coach were taken
away, and they were never
seen again.
He also recalled another
incident in Tiong Bahru Road:
Japanese officers made a
group of Chinese men line up
as an informant, who wore a
hood to hide his identity,
pointed out those who had
served under the British as
members of a voluntary
military reserve.
As the Occupation wore on
and people got more used
to living under Japanese
rule, Mr Chia enrolled in a
Japanese school in Queen
Street in late 1942.
In mid-1943, as an 18-year-
old, he worked for the
Japanese in a telegraphy
company, where he sent
and received messages in
morse code.
By that time, the Syonan
Sports Association was
formed, and Mr Chia
recalled going to Jalan Besar
Stadium to play football
every day after work.
Beyond organising sports
competitions,the association
was a vehicle that mobilised
auxiliary manpower to
assist with various tasks,
including clearing debris
and casualties when
bombings occurred.
As members of the
association, Mr Chia and his
Rovers teammates were
tapped to help with such
assignments, receiving
rations of rice and
cigarettes in exchange.
He said he enjoyed the
camaraderie he shared with
his teammates as they went
about performing menial
tasks, such as digging
trenches at the Padang and
planting tapioca in Holland
Road.
"But the most important
thing was that we got our
rations," he said. "I didn't
smoke so I sold my
cigarettes for extra money."
On the pitch, the Rovers
were a dominant force,
winning all their matches
between May to September
1943 to top the league.
But it was matches against
Malayan opposition that
Mr Chia remembers the
most fondly.
Dinners served when the
association hosted visiting
teams were of a higher
quality than everyday meals,
which often comprised
porridge and sweet potatoes.
Players rushed to get a share
of the food when it was
served.
At one dinner, a guest was
peeved by such behaviour,
and threw his dentures into
a bowl of soup as soon as it
was served so that no one
else would have it.
"What did we do? We all had
a good laugh," said Mr Chia.
On two occasions - in late
1943 and mid-1944 - Mr Chia
was part of a Syonan team
that made "goodwill" tours
to Malaya, where it played
against local teams.
Mr Chia recalled travelling
by lorry between Kuala
Lumpur and Ipoh on the
second tour. The team
feared attack by anti-
Japanese guerrilla fighters
targeting the Japanese
officer who accompanied
the team.
"Although it was not a
comfortable trip, somehow
the team still enjoyed
ourselves," he said.
Between the Japanese
surrender on Sept 2, 1945,
and the surrender ceremony
in Singapore on Sept 12,
Mr Chia said the Japanese
military remained in control
and people were still fearful
of them.
After hearing about the
Japanese surrender, Mr Chia
and his Rovers teammates
gathered in a home in
Lavender Street and
celebrated loudly as they
anticipated liberation from
Japanese rule, only to be
confronted by an armed
Japanese soldier.
"We were lucky because we
said we were celebrating a
birthday and he left us alone,"
said Mr Chia.
After the war ended, he
continued to play football,
including for the Lien Hwa
(United Chinese) team that
toured Asia in December
1947.
The next year, he was
selected to represent China
in the Olympics, despite
being Singapore-born.
The Chinese team would play
just one match at the Games,
losing to Turkey in the first
knock-out round.
But Mr Chia, who started for
the Chinese team, remains
the only Singaporean to
have taken the field in
football at the Olympics.
Two other footballers went
to the Olympics as part of
the Chinese team - Chua
Boon Lay in 1936 and Chu
Chee Seng in 1948 - but
never played.
It was on Dec 8, 1941, at around 5am, that the realities of war first hit home for Mr Chia, who was born on New Year's Day, 1925.
"All of a sudden, one my neighbours came to my house and shouted loudly 'Japanese bombing Singapore already'," said Mr Chia, who was then living in Pasir Panjang, near Yew Siang Road.
[ map here ]
The lane was named after his businessman father who died in 1930.
( more details here )
Pioneers: The philanthropist of Yew Siang Road
Our History
We hope you’re
having as much fun
as we are, learning
about the historical
figures behind the
names of roads in
the Pasir Panjang
area! Today we shall
find out more about
the pioneer named
for Yew Siang Road,
a residential side
road opposite Pasir
Panjang MRT station.
Chia Yew Siang (谢有
祥) (b. 1867, China–
death 8 May 1930,
Singapore) was a
merchant and
philanthropist. He
was the managing
proprietor of Chop
Hong Hoe at George
Street, and is
believed to have
traded in rubber and
spices.
A prominent member
of the Chinese
community in
Singapore, he was
part of the Singapore
Chinese Chamber of
Commerce, and was
one of the thirteen
members of the
China Republican
Party (Singapore
branch).
Chia Yew Siang had
3 bungalows in
Pasir Panjang at the
site now occupied
by Bijou at Jalan
Mat Jambol. (see
map sketched by
his son, Chia Boon
Leong. The
compound is
outlined in red). He
had 6 wives during
his lifetime and
some of them lived
within the
compound with their
children.
Upon his death in
1930, he was buried
at Bukit Brown
cemetery. His family
recently cleared the
foliage around his
tomb, which had
become overgrown
during the last year
of Covid. They have
graciously shared a
photograph with us
here.
"During the Occupation, as far as I recall, I was not too worried. I did not know what was going on at that age, so there was no reason to be anxious," he said.
Mr Chia went from being at risk of execution to being selected for the Olympics in just six years.
But in the weeks to come, Mr Chia left his family home for Tiong Bahru, where his family felt they might be safer from the coming invasion.
He remained there throughout the Occupation.
While moving away from Pasir Panjang meant they escaped a fierce firefight - the battle of Bukit Chandu was fought not far away on Feb 14, 1942 - Mr Chia's family was still not far from danger in Tiong Bahru.
Eng Hoon Street, located about 130m away from where his family lived in Eng Watt Street, bore the brunt of Japanese shelling in the area, he said.
Within weeks of the British surrender on Feb 15, 1942, Mr Chia was told to report to an inspection site where Japanese soldiers screened Chinese men and took away those suspected of being anti-Japanese for execution.
The Japanese military operation, called Operation Sook Ching, saw Chinese males between the ages of 18 and 50 summoned to mass screening centres all over the island.
"Someone in Tiong Bahru said to report to an open area opposite the police station at the intersection of Keppel, Tanjong Pagar and Cantonment roads, so I went not knowing what was happening," said Mr Chia, who was 17 at that point.
"As a schoolboy I just carried on and followed instructions. We lined up, one by one, to face a Japanese soldier and some were told to go to a lorry, I did not know why then.
"It was only some time later that we were told those on the lorries were taken somewhere else to be executed."
Mr Chia said he later heard that his half-brother, a cousin, and a Pasir Panjang Rovers coach were taken away, and they were never seen again.
The Pasir Panjang Rovers team after winning the Alsagoff Shield in the Syonan Sports Association Soccer League in 1943. PHOTO
He also recalled another incident in Tiong Bahru Road: Japanese officers made a group of Chinese men line up as an informant, who wore a hood to hide his identity, pointed out those who had served under the British as members of a voluntary military reserve.
As the Occupation wore on and people got more used to living under Japanese rule, Mr Chia enrolled in a Japanese school in Queen Street in late 1942.
In mid-1943, as an 18-year-old, he worked for the Japanese in a telegraphy company, where he sent and received messages in morse code.
By that time, the Syonan Sports Association was formed, and Mr Chia recalled going to Jalan Besar Stadium to play football every day after work.
Beyond organising sports competitions, the association was a vehicle that mobilised auxiliary manpower to assist with various tasks, including clearing debris and casualties when bombings occurred.
As members of the association, Mr Chia and his Rovers teammates were tapped to help with such assignments, receiving rations of rice and cigarettes in exchange.
He said he enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with his teammates as they went about performing menial tasks, such as digging trenches at the Padang and planting tapioca in Holland Road.
"But the most important thing was that we got our rations," he said. "I didn't smoke so I sold my cigarettes for extra money."
On the pitch, the Rovers were a dominant force, winning all their matches between May to September 1943 to top the league.
But it was matches against Malayan opposition that Mr Chia remembers the most fondly.
Dinners served when the association hosted visiting teams were of a higher quality than everyday meals, which often comprised porridge and sweet potatoes.
Players rushed to get a share of the food when it was served.
At one dinner, a guest was peeved by such behaviour, and threw his dentures into a bowl of soup as soon as it was served so that no one else would have it.
"What did we do? We all had a good laugh," said Mr Chia.
Mr Chia said he enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with his teammates during the war.
On two occasions - in late 1943 and mid-1944 - Mr Chia was part of a Syonan team that made "goodwill" tours to Malaya, where it played against local teams.
Mr Chia recalled travelling by lorry between Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh on the second tour. The team feared attack by anti-Japanese guerrilla fighters targeting the Japanese officer who accompanied the team.
"Although it was not a comfortable trip, somehow the team still enjoyed ourselves," he said.
Between the Japanese surrender on Sept 2, 1945, and the surrender ceremony in Singapore on Sept 12, Mr Chia said the Japanese military remained in control and people were still fearful of them.
After hearing about the Japanese surrender, Mr Chia and his Rovers teammates gathered in a home in Lavender Street and celebrated loudly as they anticipated liberation from Japanese rule, only to be confronted by an armed Japanese soldier.
"We were lucky because we said we were celebrating a birthday and he left us alone," said Mr Chia.
After the war ended, he continued to play football, including for the Lien Hwa (United Chinese) team that toured Asia in December 1947.
The next year, he was selected to represent China in the Olympics, despite being Singapore-born.
The Chinese team would play just one match at the Games, losing to Turkey in the first knock-out round.
But Mr Chia, who started for the Chinese team, remains the only Singaporean to have taken the field in football at the Olympics.
Two other footballers went to the Olympics as part of the Chinese team - Chua Boon Lay in 1936 and Chu Chee Seng in 1948 - but never played.
Chia Boon Leong – The only Singaporean to play football at the Olympics
By Justin Kor
It was a chilly winter day on Nov 19, 1947 and skinny Chia Boon Leong could feel in his bones the winds blowing in from the Huangpu River. His young 22-year-old body was aching after touring with the Lien Hwa (United Chinese) team on a gruelling tour of 23 football matches in 42 days – a game every other day. Chia would be the only one to appear in all 23 games.
This time, he was up against Shanghai’s defending league champions, Tung Hwa, and it was his third match in four days in Shanghai. But fatigue had to wait. Chia was ready to strike. The tenacious inside left was everywhere on the pitch. One moment, the attacker was resolutely sprinting back into his own half to help out in defence.
The next one saw the lightning quick Singaporean dribble away with the ball. Coming up to an opponent, he nudged the ball to the right and feinted to his left. He left his opponent for dead, not knowing whether to chase man or ball. It was one of the dribbler’s many tricks.
His team won 5-3. A few months later, he was chosen to represent China in the 1948 Olympics in London, an achievement that has not been replicated by any other Singaporean.
To this day, he remains the only Singaporean footballer to have actually played at the Olympics, albeit under another country’s flag. Two others, fullback Chua Boon Lay and goalkeeper Chu Chee Seng, went to the Olympics but never played.
“Maybe it was the way the crowd reacted to my performance which made the Chinese officials decide to choose me for the London Olympics,” says Chia, who despite being the youngest and the smallest, was widely regarded as Lien Hwa’s best player.
Carnival of Canidrome
The runs during the Shanghai match kept him warm. Winter had just set in, with temperatures dipping to a chilly 5 degrees – not easy for a select group of boys from Malaya and Singapore who were more accustomed to the sweltering heat of the tropics. To combat the cold, they wore sweaters under their white jerseys and rubbed oil on their bodies.
But in the cold, Chia seemed to be a one-man furnace. The attacker’s stamina appeared limitless. “Somehow or another, I got comfortable with the cold,” he recalls. “Maybe it was the cold, I could run better.”
It went on like this for 90 minutes – he covered the length of the pitch to help his team in any way he could.
His industry charmed the home crowd, which was supposed to support home team Tung Hwa! At the now-demolished Canidrome – within the heart of the French Concession – the screaming and cheering capacity crowd of 12,000 had forgotten the civil war ravaging their country.
They were enamoured with the diminutive Chia, watching him pump his tiny frame – all of 160cm of it – up and down the field. They screamed and cheered every time he had the ball.
When the home team lost, the crowd didn’t mind. After the match, at least a hundred people surged towards Chia, mobbing him as he walked to the team bus. The crowd was so large that the police had to escort Chia out by another way out of the stadium.
“When the other players reached the crowd, they let them through. But when I reached them, they surrounded me,” says Chia with a laugh. “It took about 20 minutes for me to get on the bus. I was the last one on.”
More than 70 years later, Chia, now 93, still regards the match as the most memorable of his career. This despite him not scoring a goal.
“What I remembered most was not so much the game, but the post-match reception by the crowd. They were so natural and spontaneous. I still flush with pride whenever I think of this incident. It was a once in a lifetime feeling.”
1948 London
At the Olympic Games, the China national team played their only match against Turkey, with Chia in the starting 11. Despite their best efforts, they were trounced 4-0, unable to match the Turks in terms of strength and size. The Chinese team also saw their main striker lost to injury, and back in those days, no substitutions were allowed.
“The opponents were so big that we were bouncing off them in challenges, and they were very aggressive as well,” recalls Chia. Despite the loss, the Chinese team received praise in the local papers for their attractive style of play, with Chia in particular being mentioned for his speed and skills.
Back then, Chinese law stated that an ethnic Chinese could represent China, despite not being born in the country. This meant that although Chia was a British subject at that time, he was considered a Chinese national.
Chia also made unforgettable memories off the pitch. He counts marching past the royal family at London’s iconic Wembley Stadium during the opening ceremony as one of his most memorable moments.
“I was at the back of the contingent because I was the smallest,” he says with a smile.
He would later have a more intimate interaction with the royals, when he was the only player in the team selected to visit Buckingham Palace, where he would shake hands with King George VI, his wife Queen Elizabeth, and his mother, Queen Mary.
More than 60 years later, Chia would have another encounter with the royal family again in 2012, when he met Prince William and his wife Kate, in Singapore.
“When I told the prince I shook hands with his great-grandfather, he was very surprised. How many people in their lives can have the privilege to say something like that?”
Short Boy from Pasir Panjang
Chia’s background was more rustic than royal. Before he was terrorising defences in the region, he started his footballing journey by playing five-a-side matches with a tennis ball on a sandy pitch in front of his Pasir Panjang kampong house.
Playing with a tennis ball on a small pitch allowed him to develop his close ball control. “I had little coaching. The ball work came rather naturally to me – it was mostly self development.”
However, because of his small size, many thought he could never succeed as a football player. It only made him more determined to prove his doubters wrong.
“I had to strengthen my instinct for survival. I learnt how to be trickier, fitter, and faster to outwit the bigger opponents.”
What he lacked in physical presence, he made up for it with an indomitable spirit and enormous industry. And instead of relying on brawn, he used his head to play the game. Newspapers of the day often called him ‘the brains of the Singapore attack’.
Nicknamed ‘Twinkletoes’ because of his skilful ball control, he is widely regarded as one of the best football players in Malaya during the 1940s and 50s.
With him as the main orchestrator, Singapore won three Malaya Cups in a row from 1950 to 1952. His reward after winning the first Malaya Cup? “$10 dollar bonus and a celebratory dinner back in Singapore,” reveals Chia with a laugh.
In 1975, the New Nation newspaper lauded him as a player who was “swift as a hare, with brilliant ball control and unlimited stamina as his chief assets, he is a schemer of immense value to any forward line”.
His vital role to the team did not go unnoticed by supporters, who voted him as Malaya’s most popular footballer in 1954. His prize was a two-month training stint in England, where they managed to train at Arsenal, which was his favourite team growing up.
But at a relatively young age of 30 in 1955, he surprised many by retiring from the sport. “I noticed a lot of ex-players played until they weren’t good – I didn’t want that, to be booed out of the stadium by the crowd.”
Love for the game
Following retirement, Chia worked as a senior financial executive with radio service company Rediffusion. But with so much passion for the sport, it was difficult for him to completely exit the game. He returned to football in 1978 when he became a council member of the Football Association of Singapore (FAS).
At FAS, he was also team manager of the Singapore national team from 1978 to 1979, before heading the welfare committee of the council for seven months. He returned for a second stint as team manager before retiring in 1980.
Today, the football man is very much a family man, with a loving wife, three sons and two grandchildren. He still watches football on television, with his favourite player being Lionel Messi, whose built and style he could identify with. “He likes to challenge the opponent directly, in one-on-one situations,” said the dribbler of yore.
These days, Chia likes to garden and maintain his scrapbooks of old newspaper clippings of his footballing days. Once in a while, he would flip to match reports of that unforgettable match against Tung Hwa, scanning every sentence which brought him back to 1947.
“I’m very lucky to have gotten the best treatment as a footballer. I’m glad my wishes were fulfilled, or I wouldn’t have gone to places as diverse as Shanghai and London,” he says, recalling a time when most people in Singapore did not travel overseas.
“Regrets in life? Maybe only that I couldn’t watch myself on television to see how good I actually was,” he says with a smile.
Chia Boon Leong – The only Singaporean to play football at the Olympics
23-year-old Boon Leong in 1948
It was a chilly winter day on Nov 19, 1947 and skinny Chia Boon Leong could feel in his bones the winds blowing in from the Huangpu River. His young 22-year-old body was aching after touring with the Lien Hwa (United Chinese) team on a gruelling tour of 23 football matches in 42 days – a game every other day. Chia would be the only one to appear in all 23 games.
This time, he was up against Shanghai’s defending league champions, Tung Hwa, and it was his third match in four days in Shanghai. But fatigue had to wait. Chia was ready to strike. The tenacious inside left was everywhere on the pitch. One moment, the attacker was resolutely sprinting back into his own half to help out in defence.
The next one saw the lightning quick Singaporean dribble away with the ball. Coming up to an opponent, he nudged the ball to the right and feinted to his left. He left his opponent for dead, not knowing whether to chase man or ball. It was one of the dribbler’s many tricks.
His team won 5-3. A few months later, he was chosen to represent China in the 1948 Olympics in London, an achievement that has not been replicated by any other Singaporean.
To this day, he remains the only Singaporean footballer to have actually played at the Olympics, albeit under another country’s flag. Two others, fullback Chua Boon Lay and goalkeeper Chu Chee Seng, went to the Olympics but never played.
“Maybe it was the way the crowd reacted to my performance which made the Chinese officials decide to choose me for the London Olympics,” says Chia, who despite being the youngest and the smallest, was widely regarded as Lien Hwa’s best player.
The Lien Hwa Soccer Team of Malaya in 1947
Carnival of Canidrome
The runs during the Shanghai match kept him warm. Winter had just set in, with temperatures dipping to a chilly 5 degrees – not easy for a select group of boys from Malaya and Singapore who were more accustomed to the sweltering heat of the tropics. To combat the cold, they wore sweaters under their white jerseys and rubbed oil on their bodies.
But in the cold, Chia seemed to be a one-man furnace. The attacker’s stamina appeared limitless. “Somehow or another, I got comfortable with the cold,” he recalls. “Maybe it was the cold, I could run better.”
It went on like this for 90 minutes – he covered the length of the pitch to help his team in any way he could.
His industry charmed the home crowd, which was supposed to support home team Tung Hwa! At the now-demolished Canidrome – within the heart of the French Concession – the screaming and cheering capacity crowd of 12,000 had forgotten the civil war ravaging their country.
They were enamoured with the diminutive Chia, watching him pump his tiny frame – all of 160cm of it – up and down the field. They screamed and cheered every time he had the ball.
When the home team lost, the crowd didn’t mind. After the match, at least a hundred people surged towards Chia, mobbing him as he walked to the team bus. The crowd was so large that the police had to escort Chia out by another way out of the stadium.
“When the other players reached the crowd, they let them through. But when I reached them, they surrounded me,” says Chia with a laugh. “It took about 20 minutes for me to get on the bus. I was the last one on.”
More than 70 years later, Chia, now 93, still regards the match as the most memorable of his career. This despite him not scoring a goal.
“What I remembered most was not so much the game, but the post-match reception by the crowd. They were so natural and spontaneous. I still flush with pride whenever I think of this incident. It was a once in a lifetime feeling.”
1948 London
The 1948 China Olympic Football Team (Boon Leong is seated first row fourth from left)
At the Olympic Games, the China national team played their only match against Turkey, with Chia in the starting 11. Despite their best efforts, they were trounced 4-0, unable to match the Turks in terms of strength and size. The Chinese team also saw their main striker lost to injury, and back in those days, no substitutions were allowed.
“The opponents were so big that we were bouncing off them in challenges, and they were very aggressive as well,” recalls Chia. Despite the loss, the Chinese team received praise in the local papers for their attractive style of play, with Chia in particular being mentioned for his speed and skills.
Back then, Chinese law stated that an ethnic Chinese could represent China, despite not being born in the country. This meant that although Chia was a British subject at that time, he was considered a Chinese national.
Chia also made unforgettable memories off the pitch. He counts marching past the royal family at London’s iconic Wembley Stadium during the opening ceremony as one of his most memorable moments.
“I was at the back of the contingent because I was the smallest,” he says with a smile.
He would later have a more intimate interaction with the royals, when he was the only player in the team selected to visit Buckingham Palace, where he would shake hands with King George VI, his wife Queen Elizabeth, and his mother, Queen Mary.
More than 60 years later, Chia would have another encounter with the royal family again in 2012, when he met Prince William and his wife Kate, in Singapore.
“When I told the prince I shook hands with his great-grandfather, he was very surprised. How many people in their lives can have the privilege to say something like that?”
Short Boy from Pasir Panjang
Headlines describing Boon Leong in his heydays
Chia’s background was more rustic than royal. Before he was terrorising defences in the region, he started his footballing journey by playing five-a-side matches with a tennis ball on a sandy pitch in front of his Pasir Panjang kampong house.
Playing with a tennis ball on a small pitch allowed him to develop his close ball control. “I had little coaching. The ball work came rather naturally to me – it was mostly self development.”
However, because of his small size, many thought he could never succeed as a football player. It only made him more determined to prove his doubters wrong.
“I had to strengthen my instinct for survival. I learnt how to be trickier, fitter, and faster to outwit the bigger opponents.”
What he lacked in physical presence, he made up for it with an indomitable spirit and enormous industry. And instead of relying on brawn, he used his head to play the game. Newspapers of the day often called him ‘the brains of the Singapore attack’.
Nicknamed ‘Twinkletoes’ because of his skilful ball control, he is widely regarded as one of the best football players in Malaya during the 1940s and 50s.
With him as the main orchestrator, Singapore won three Malaya Cups in a row from 1950 to 1952. His reward after winning the first Malaya Cup? “$10 dollar bonus and a celebratory dinner back in Singapore,” reveals Chia with a laugh.
In 1975, the New Nation newspaper lauded him as a player who was “swift as a hare, with brilliant ball control and unlimited stamina as his chief assets, he is a schemer of immense value to any forward line”.
His vital role to the team did not go unnoticed by supporters, who voted him as Malaya’s most popular footballer in 1954. His prize was a two-month training stint in England, where they managed to train at Arsenal, which was his favourite team growing up.
But at a relatively young age of 30 in 1955, he surprised many by retiring from the sport. “I noticed a lot of ex-players played until they weren’t good – I didn’t want that, to be booed out of the stadium by the crowd.”
Love for the game
Following retirement, Chia worked as a senior financial executive with radio service company Rediffusion. But with so much passion for the sport, it was difficult for him to completely exit the game. He returned to football in 1978 when he became a council member of the Football Association of Singapore (FAS).
At FAS, he was also team manager of the Singapore national team from 1978 to 1979, before heading the welfare committee of the council for seven months. He returned for a second stint as team manager before retiring in 1980.
Today, the football man is very much a family man, with a loving wife, three sons and two grandchildren. He still watches football on television, with his favourite player being Lionel Messi, whose built and style he could identify with. “He likes to challenge the opponent directly, in one-on-one situations,” said the dribbler of yore.
Boon Leong and wife Li Choo with former SNOC President Mr Teo Chee Hean in 2005
These days, Chia likes to garden and maintain his scrapbooks of old newspaper clippings of his footballing days. Once in a while, he would flip to match reports of that unforgettable match against Tung Hwa, scanning every sentence which brought him back to 1947.
“I’m very lucky to have gotten the best treatment as a footballer. I’m glad my wishes were fulfilled, or I wouldn’t have gone to places as diverse as Shanghai and London,” he says, recalling a time when most people in Singapore did not travel overseas.
“Regrets in life? Maybe only that I couldn’t watch myself on television to see how good I actually was,” he says with a smile.
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