There is always this large-than-life myth created every time a Maldivian national team takes on the field. But by the end of 90 minutes this flimsy myth lay shattered – dream broken and a team exposed, the naked truth bared.

The thing is every time out national team takes on a foreign team on the home turf, against all the odds, we look like foreigners. Strangers on our own backyard. A group of lads on an unfamiliar ground surrounded by hostile crowed. More often than not, out of sync, we look like frightened creatures chasing shadows. Up there on the pitch, in front of our own supporters – mothers, fathers, friends and well-wishers – despite everybody’s backing to chase our own and a nation’s dream, we rather look like boys lost in a park.

Against Indonesia our boys looked agitated, unable to settle to any form of rhythm. Even some players so good in club football found themselves stranded in no-man’s land. The apprehensive look on their face told the real tale we have always been associated with; whether we play against the weak Butan or regional best India we are never able to play our natural game. In such a scenario with any number of chances, half or clear chances, you rattled nerves get better of you. See how may clear chances Asfaag and Assad did waste. Definitely there is a serious affliction at work. Worse came from others.

Otherwise why they treat the ball like something too hot to handle? Why it looks like something you are not very familiar with, when it is any footballer’s best friend? Otherwise why you are not able to accomplish the simple feat of, say, three passes in a row.

What is it, if not a big deficiency, in our mental faculty? By fitness level, we may be the best team in the last ten years but mentally light years away from the mental fitness.

Granted, the telling pressure in a do-or-die tussle like this would be enormous. Though match would start on an even keel, on a nil-nil scoreline, we kicked the fist ball with 1-0 deficit. That is understandable. Does that mean you have come on the pitch with anxiety neurosis? A wobbling leg made up of jelly, a heart speeding on F1 Race.

Aren’t you supposed to extract all your will-power and the fire in your belly to display what you are or can be capable of? When more people are around to cheer you doesn’t it give you a thrill to perform better and elevate yourself to a higher rung? Ought not it to stir you and lift you in the presence of them, isn’t supporters a stimulus, an inspiration that drive you to function better, more eagerly? Sadly what our boys displayed was hesitancy in place of boldness, strangeness in place of authority, out of touch in place sharpness, all in all, it was rusty football.

It is difficult to buy the reason our players’ young mind are overburdened by the usual sky-high expectations and the pressure that goes with it. But the timeless truth is it all depends on how you take it. If you use all that negative energy to build a positive attitude there you have a winning formula. You can even move a mountain. If you cave in to pressure even before the first kick of the ball, you have already decided your destiny.

Did you see how Indonesia played in our own stadium, in front of our own supporters? The confidence that was running in the blood? There was a look of determination and an extravagant attitude, grit in their running and joyfulness in their touch. We looked like a motor running low on gas, spluttering in and out of life, and ready to screech to a halt anytime. Surely their attitude was not based on the win they had on their home ground. Sometimes the outrageous one-twos that come with neat passing, though in patches, were wonderful. We looked like kids learning to kick a ball.

You don’t need a professor to tell you there is a crisis of confidence in our national team. Nobody else better than Suzeyn would have better choice of words. The need for a psychologist’s help is more paramount than ever.