It is that time of the biennial cycle again. The flowers are blooming, the humidity in Bukit Jalil is reaching “cream of mushroom” consistency, and the Badminton Association of Malaysia (BAM) is once again locked in a room with Lee Zii Jia’s management. It’s a ritual as predictable as a monsoon—a frantic attempt to figure out how many millions of ringgit it takes to buy a week of patriotism from a man who treats a national jersey like a billboard for rent.

With the 2026 Thomas Cup in Horsens, Denmark, just around the corner, the dance has begun. But this time, the rhythm is a bit … off. We have a “professional” hero who spent most of 2025 doing “rehab”, and a national body that seems to have developed a worrying fetish for being held to ransom. It is time for BAM to stop acting like a desperate suitor in a bad rom-com and start acting like a savvy venture capitalist.

To understand the madness, we have to look at the concept of “image rights.” In 2024, BAM coughed up an unprecedented fee—reportedly RM20,000 per match—just for Zii Jia to grace us with his presence in the national kit. Why? Because back then, he was a top-10 titan. But fast forward to right now, February 2026. After a disastrous string of injuries and “fatigue,” Zii Jia has spent the last year sliding down the world rankings like a greased pig on a waterslide. He’s currently hovering around the world number 80 mark, trailing behind players like Leong Jun Hao, who actually turns up to work.

The logic of paying premium “image rights” to a man ranked 79th in the world is the same logic that would lead you to pay full price for a Ferrari that’s missing three wheels and an engine. If the stature has shrunk to the size of a cocktail sausage, shouldn’t the invoice follow suit? If BAM continues to pay “legacy” prices for a brand that is currently as valuable as a used napkin, they aren’t managing a sports association; they are running a charity for independent contractors who can’t find their way to a semi-final.

Then there is the hilarious argument about “exposure.” Team LZJ often claims that representing the country is a commercial burden because it clashes with his personal sponsors, like Victor. This is a magnificent bit of gaslighting. The Thomas Cup is a global stage that BAM has spent decades—and millions of Petronas and Yonex dollars—securing. When a player wins or even plays a match in Denmark, their personal commercial value doesn’t just stay steady; it rockets. Did BAM get a cut of the lucrative endorsement deals that followed his previous exploits? Of course not. It’s a one-way street where BAM provides the ladder and Zii Jia climbs it to grab a bag of cash, only to complain that the ladder is the wrong colour.

BAM needs to stop being the “nice guy” and implement a roadmap of cold, hard sanity. Representation should be a partnership, and in a partnership, if you don’t hit your KPIs, you don’t get the bonus. They need to move away from these flat-fee “ransom” payments and introduce a performance-based audit. If Zii Jia—or any future “independent” diva—wants to charge for their image, fine. But that fee should be 30% appearance money and 70% performance bonus. You win in the group stages? Here’s your check. You lose to a part-time plumber from the Faroe Islands? You pay for your own flight back in economy class, seated next to a screaming toddler.

Furthermore, if a player’s personal sponsor “suffers” because they have to wear the national kit, that’s their problem, not the taxpayers’. In fact, the management should be paying BAM a “platform fee” for the privilege of the global airtime. If you want to be a professional, you have to act like one. That means being accountable for your results. If you want to be treated like a corporate entity, you should expect to be audited. And right now, the audit of Malaysian badminton suggests we are paying for a steak dinner and being served a lukewarm bowl of instant noodles.

Horsens is calling. Denmark is a lovely country with excellent furniture and very sensible people. It’s time we brought some of that sensibility back to Bukit Jalil. If our “pros” want to represent the flag, marvellous. But if they want us to pay for the privilege of watching them get knocked out in the second round while wearing a fancy headband, then I have a better idea. Give the jersey to a junior who actually wants to be there. At least then, when we lose, it won’t cost us twenty grand an hour.