Some stories find you when you least expect them.
One hot afternoon in July 2024, I dropped by the Ceylon Sports Club on Balestier Road hoping for nothing more than a cold drink. The clubhouse was closed and, sitting quietly on the verandah, was an elderly couple. I walked past them without giving them a second glance.
Then former Singapore cricket and hockey international M. Neethianathan walked in and casually asked: “Do you know who that is? That’s Rajagopal.”
I stopped in my tracks.
Sitting just a few metres away was Sockalingam Rajagopal, one of the greatest footballers Singapore has ever produced.
Affectionately known as “The Camel” for his seemingly endless stamina and trademark galloping runs down the flank, he was the magician behind those unforgettable “banana kicks” years before the world learned to “bend it like Beckham”.
He was one of the stars of the legendary Kallang Roar era and played a pivotal role in Singapore’s historic 1977 Malaysia Cup triumph.
He could easily have pursued a professional career in Hong Kong, but chose instead to remain in Singapore because representing his country meant more than money. That decision alone spoke volumes about the man.
Rajagopal graciously agreed to an interview. Together with his second wife Melody, he recounted stories from a remarkable football journey. Dressed casually in a Nike T-shirt, sporting long hair and the effortless charisma that had once made him one of Singapore’s biggest sporting personalities, he still possessed the sparkle that had captivated fans in the 1970s.
Yet, something else caught my attention.
Every now and then, he struggled to remember certain details. Conversations drifted. Melody gently helped fill in the gaps. But the moment football entered the conversation, his eyes lit up. His memories of teammates, great matches and famous goals remained remarkably vivid.
“I don’t follow football seriously anymore,” he told me then. “I mostly stay at home, take care of my wife, relax and sometimes sing old English songs at friends’ pubs and restaurants. Dean Martin is my favourite.”
That interview was published in tabla! shortly afterwards. Looking back today, I am grateful I had that opportunity.
Last week came the heartbreaking news reported by The Straits Times that Rajagopal, now 77, is living with dementia. He now resides in Rizal in the Philippines with Melody, surviving on modest CPF payouts while she supports them through a small online business.
Every few months they travel back to Singapore for his medical appointments at Tan Tock Seng Hospital, journeys made possible largely through the generosity of close friends.
The football fraternity has responded in the only way it knows — with loyalty.
Former teammates, led by William Liu, have come together to organise “Thanks for the Memories”, a fundraising concert on Nov 17 at the Serangoon Gardens Country Club.
The aim is to raise S$60,000 to help Rajagopal with his care, while also laying the foundation to support other former national footballers who may face similar hardships.
There is something deeply moving about that.
The cheers of the Kallang Roar may have faded, and dementia may slowly be stealing parts of Rajagopal’s memory. But it cannot erase what he gave Singapore football, nor diminish the affection his teammates and supporters continue to have for him.
Sometimes we celebrate our sporting heroes only when they are lifting trophies. Perhaps the greater measure of a sporting community is how it looks after its heroes long after the final whistle.
For Rajagopal, that final whistle has not been met with silence. It has been answered with friendship, gratitude and the promise that “The Camel” will never walk alone.
