Those who knew Harun well described him as a master of the most human elements of football, who sought to bring the nation together over a mutual love for football.

Harun, a former menteri besar of Selangor, died in 2003 at the age of 78, but his character traits as a mentor, a generous man, a disciplinarian and a trailblazer crops up every time a football great talks to the press.

Malaysia’s 1970s goalkeeper Lim Fong Kee told FMT in an interview that the motivational Harun was a warm and kind soul who made his players feel happy, trusted and confident.

Asked whether the now struggling Malaysian football needed the magnetism of someone like Harun, he said: “We need somebody to get involved with the team all the time, not somebody who only shows his face at a match.”

He said the charismatic and loveable Harun was so much more than a football manager.

“He watched us train regularly. He was always there and he knew every facet of every player’s life, so he could relate to every single one as an individual. That made you feel so special. His pragmatic man-management transformed the team into a family,” Lim said.

A highlight of his relationship with Harun was when the football supremo changed his middle name from “Fong” to “Fung” because it sounded funky.

Lim was a Burnley Cup star when Harun offered to find him a job or support him in any endeavour after he had finished Form Five.

Harun also found employment for sportspersons in Selangor government entities, especially the Selangor State Development Corporation (PKNS) which he had established upon becoming menteri besar in 1964.

Sportswriters from that era will tell you how Harun facilitated an environment where players could be at their best together, with little room for ego and pressure.

He professed that the team is the star, not the individual.

That resonated with the uber successful Selangor teams that won the Malaysia Cup many times, and with members of the national side that was an Asian powerhouse.

His detractors might say he was merely in the right place at the right time, with the right squads.

But Harun’s great trick was readily taking advice from experts, and managing the high profile names of the 60s and 70s, and nearly always getting the very best out of them.

So why is Malaysian football not the same now?

Lim said: “The present national football team is different because they’ve got so many naturalised players, something I don’t recommend.”

He said love for the country was vital to ensure undivided commitment and success.

“Back then things were different. We started playing football as young as nine years old, so there was commitment from childhood,” he said.

Harun’s story encapsulates the exhilarating days of Malaysian sports when patriotism and national identity came to the fore.

He shared the confidence of founding prime minister Tunku Abdul Rahman that sports would unite a multiracial nation.

As president of the Selangor FA and vice-president of the FA of Malaysia, as well as manager of the national and Selangor teams, Harun found that unity was a given to his players.

The crowning moment of his managerial career came at the 1972 Munich Olympics when a racially mixed Malaysian side filled Malaysians with pride.

They held the nation in awe with their heartwarming performances against formidable opposition, winning one match and losing two.

As his leadership in sports invited national praise, Harun’s political ambitions prospered. His popularity was embellished by Selangor being the most developed commercial and industrial state of Malaysia.

During his time as menteri besar, there was a popular phrase that went: “Whoever wants a house should go see Datuk Harun Idris to get one.” Poor families and sports personalities were offered affordable homes by PKNS.

His ascendancy in Umno gathered pace when he became the party’s youth leader and made the wing a prominent force in the social changes taking place in the country.

Not since Tunku had there been a national leader with an extraordinary dual profile of sports and political distinction.

By the mid-70s, Harun had become a genuine prime ministerial aspirant.

The local sports fraternity was excited with the prospect of a sports-minded leader becoming the prime minister and taking the country to international sporting honours.

By that time, aside from his contributions to football, he had developed other national sports such as motorsports, cycling, golf, rugby and silat gayong, and created big sporting events.

Some in the political circle thought his rise was too quick and the knives were out.

His downfall was triggered by the staging of the heavyweight boxing match between Muhammad Ali and Britain’s Joe Bugner at Merdeka Stadium in July 1975.

Harun was instrumental in bringing the bout to Kuala Lumpur, with the organisation of the event handled by a company called Tinju Dunia.

In November, the police investigated the company for fraud and Harun was subsequently accused of corruption.

Supporters surrounded his house in Kuala Lumpur to prevent an arrest, leading to tense stand-off with police. Eventually, he was found guilty and spent time in jail.

Harun was a controversial and powerful figure in Malay politics and the corruption charge against him came to be regarded as political prosecution.

It has been speculated that enemies in the government of the day had pushed to put Harun in jail.

Unconfirmed reports suggested then prime minister Hussein Onn offered Harun a position as an ambassador to entice him away from politics. But Harun refused.

The corruption charge effectively ended his political ambitions.

Sportspeople today still talk about what might have been had Harun not been knocked out by the blow from the boxing event.

Make no mistake – we will never see the likes of Harun again. His influence should be celebrated and known by every sports fan.