Mees Hilgers and eleven returnees: Indonesia reopens internal competition ahead of the 2026 FIFA ASEAN Cup

I remember crossing out the name Mees Hilgers in my black notebook last September. That day, at midday in Manchester, I sat listening again to the recording of a press conference by Erick Thohir, chairman of the Football Association of Indonesia, in which he stated that the centre-back then playing for Twente would certainly miss the national team gathering due to a prolonged injury. His tone at the time left no room for ambiguity. Yet this morning, when the outlet VIVA published the preparation squad for the 2026 FIFA ASEAN Cup, that name was there again, dozens of lines into the list that head coach John Herdman submitted to the organisers. I have seen names rise from the dead between two international windows before. But for a team preparing to host a FIFA-organised tournament for the very first time, the sudden reappearance of a Dutch-born defender carrying Indonesian blood means far more than a healed injury.

I have a professional habit: whenever a national squad list is published, I do not read it from top to bottom. I read it from the bottom up. The names at the tail end of a list are usually the ones fighting for their place, and how a coach positions them says more than the headline stars at the top. This time, reading upward, I counted eleven names that had been absent at the 2026 AFF Cup but are now recalled. Eleven. Nearly half a first-choice XI. That number is not a minor addition; it is a signal about how Herdman is re-examining the entire national-team picture.

Context: a tournament only just born

To understand why this list matters so much, it must be placed against the backdrop of an entirely new competition. According to what VIVA reported, the 2026 FIFA ASEAN Cup is a tournament organised directly by FIFA, bringing together 14 nations plus some invited teams. It runs from 24 September to 5 October 2026, with Indonesia and Hong Kong as the two host locations. Indonesia sits in the top seed group, that is, Division 1.

This is a tournament structure that has never existed in the history of Southeast Asian football. For nearly three decades, national teams in this region have known only two arenas: the AFF Cup, organised by the ASEAN Football Federation, and FIFA Matchdays or FIFA Series windows. FIFA stepping in to organise a regional tournament bearing its own brand is a sporting-geopolitical signal worth noting. It is FIFA placing its mark directly on a populous and rising football market, one it previously visited only through development programmes.

The time frame deserves attention too. From 24 September to 5 October is twelve days. With a tournament of 14 teams or more, the match density will be intense. This kind of tournament does not allow a coach to rotate freely like a pre-season tour. Fitness and squad depth will be tested under compressed conditions. And this is precisely why a preparation list this time carries far more weight than an ordinary squad announcement.

I have followed Southeast Asian football long enough to know that whenever a national federation prepares to host an event bearing an international label, the personnel list stops being purely a sporting document. It becomes a sporting-political text. It signals what the federation wants to tell its fans, its sponsors, and FIFA itself. In Indonesia's case, the message is clear: we are reassembling the strongest squad available, and we are doing it in front of the whole region.

Eleven names, three lines rewritten

Looking at the list Herdman submitted, the first thing that strikes me is the positional structure of the additions. This is not a random round of recalls; it is a deliberate restructuring.

The dressing-room door reopens from the goalkeeper position

Ernando Ari, the Persebaya Surabaya goalkeeper, returns after being omitted from the final three-man goalkeeping unit at the 2026 AFF Cup, where Nadeo Argawinata, Cahya Supriadi and Muhammad Riyandi were chosen. This is the signal I consider most important in the entire list, and it has nothing to do with Hilgers.

In football, the goalkeeper position is the only one a coach cannot rotate during a match. Once you pick a number one, you are tied to him until he makes a mistake or gets injured. Herdman recalling Ernando Ari immediately after the 2026 AFF Cup means he does not treat the Nadeo-Cahya-Riyandi trio as the final answer. This is a move to reopen competition, and also a psychological lever aimed at the dressing room. A young goalkeeper who knows the door is still open trains differently from one who believes his chance is gone. In my experience covering national teams, these goalkeeping battles tend to produce a leap in quality at precisely the most sensitive position on the pitch.

The back line and the Hilgers question

In defence, Pratama Arhan and Yakob Sayuri both return. Both had been in the 50-player monitoring pool but missed the final 26-strong squad. Their return carries a clear tactical meaning: Herdman needs his attacking full-backs again. Arhan is known for his long throw-ins and marauding runs down the left, while Sayuri adds a rotational option on the right flank.

But the most important name is still Mees Hilgers. In a national team that plays a mid-to-low defensive block, a centre-back plying his trade in Europe is usually the defensive spine, the player everyone else orbits around. His absence through a prolonged injury at the 2026 AFF Cup almost certainly forced Herdman to patch his back line with makeshift options. Hilgers' return, in theory, restores the defence to the structure Indonesia wants.

But here I must stop. I reread the line VIVA quoted: being on the list does not mean Hilgers will play. That is a governance-style caveat, and I regard it as no less important than the name itself. A centre-back coming back from a long injury into a tournament compressed into twelve days is a risk. The rhythm of a season is not in the goals, but in every Saturday repeating - and Hilgers has missed far too many Saturdays. The first steps at Carrington never appear on the transfer ticker, and likewise, the recovery sessions of an injured centre-back never appear on a national squad list. We only see the outcome, never the process.

Midfield and attack: two waves coexisting

The rest of the list runs from midfield to attack: Witan Sulaeman, Ricky Kambuaya, Ezra Walian, Septian Bagaskara, Arkhan Kaka, Mauro Zijlstra, and Rafael Struick. The most-mentioned name among these is Rafael Struick, a player many Indonesian fans have called the jewel of the future.

But I want to highlight something else. This is a blend of domestic and diaspora-background players. Mauro Zijlstra, Ezra Walian, Rafael Struick - these are names from the diaspora pipeline Indonesia has been building for years. Witan Sulaeman and Ricky Kambuaya represent the mature domestic class. Arkhan Kaka and Septian Bagaskara are younger names carrying longer-term promise. The way Herdman blends the two waves shows he is not choosing one over the other, but wants both to coexist in a squad capable of rotation.

This two-wave model has in fact become a hallmark of Southeast Asian football over the past half-decade. Countries such as the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia have all built scouting networks for heritage players in Europe, the Netherlands, Belgium, and even Australia. But Indonesia's difference lies in speed. In under five years, it has gone from relying entirely on domestic players to being able to name a squad with half a dozen players based abroad. That is a leap in resources, and equally a leap in expectations.

Tactically, having Witan - a player capable of long passing and off-ball movement - paired with Ricky Kambuaya - a box-to-box midfielder - gives Herdman flexibility between a two-man and three-man central midfield. In possession, Witan can push high as an attacking midfielder while Kambuaya holds the rhythm behind. Out of possession, both can drop to form a four-man midfield block. In attack, Rafael Struick offers pace and runs in behind, while Ezra Walian and Mauro Zijlstra are options as a false nine.

This is a fairly modern attacking structure by Southeast Asian standards, where most national teams still rely on a traditional centre-forward and two pure-speed wingers.

The contrarian angle: when the word comeback misleads the reader

Here I want to pull the reader out of the trap of language. The current headline framing - players returning to the national team - creates a very strong emotional impression. It evokes heroes coming home, pieces being reassembled, a stronger squad waiting to be proven. But the substance of this list is a preliminary preparation squad for a tournament that has not yet taken place. This is an open list, not a completed reunion.

What the list does not say

The list does not say Hilgers is healthy. It does not say Ernando Ari will start. It does not say Rafael Struick will be in the XI. It does not even say Herdman has a final squad in mind. A preparation list, in modern football parlance, is usually an open list - where recalling a player may simply be to assess his fitness, to keep him in the national-team orbit, or simply to create competitive pressure on those already present.

I have seen this at many national teams. A coach recalls eleven players before a major tournament, but ends up using six or seven of them. The rest are training material, contingency options, players being reassessed. With a tournament taking place over twelve days and likely involving a barrage of fixtures, rotation is inevitable. And in a rotating squad, eleven names do not mean eleven starting berths. They mean eleven options under consideration.

The gap between Herdman and Thohir

Another detail I consider important but under-reported: the sequence of information between Erick Thohir and John Herdman. Thohir said Hilgers was certainly out in September. Then Hilgers appeared on the list. This admits two explanations. First, Hilgers' injury recovered faster than expected, which is good news for the team. Second, there is a gap in information coordination between the federation chairman and the head coach.

I do not have enough data to conclude which explanation is correct. But my craft has taught me that when a public statement contradicts another public statement made only weeks earlier, there is usually a story behind it that no one has told yet. An exclusive report is only the tip; the submerged part is the phone calls at midnight. And in this case, the call I want to hear is not between Herdman and Hilgers, but between Twente's medical department and PSSI's. For a player based in Europe, the decision to include him in a national squad often does not lie fully in the hands of the national-team coach.

For a national team preparing to host a FIFA-organised event, information governance is not just an internal communications matter. It is part of the national image. And when that image is set beside an injured player whose real condition is unclear, the risk lies not with the player, but with whoever announced the news too early.

The trap of the word comeback

If I had to summarise the biggest worry of this article, it would be the gap between expectation and reality. Current coverage is creating an expectation that Indonesia will enter the 2026 FIFA ASEAN Cup with a squad markedly stronger than the AFF Cup one. But we have not had a single minute of football under the new list. No match, no publicly visible training session, no fitness data to cross-check.

I once watched an English club fall into exactly this trap. A comeback list was hyped by the media, then when the tournament began, the returning players were not in the desired condition, and the wave of criticism crashed not on them, but on the person who selected them. For a host nation, that pressure is far heavier, because every home match has a crowd, has expectation, has applause and jeers separated only by a goal line.

Industry transmission: what is truly worth tracking

Looking beyond the squad list, there is a larger story that I consider the genuine bright spot of this news. FIFA organising a regional tournament bearing its own name signals that Southeast Asia is being taken more seriously on the global football map. For years, Southeast Asia has been regarded as a low-quality backwater, despite its vast population and some of the most passionate fans on the planet.

If this tournament succeeds, it could open the door to a new competition cycle, change the region's fixture calendar, change how national federations plan, and more importantly, change how European clubs view Southeast Asian players. As a journalist covering the transfer market, I know that any FIFA-branded tournament becomes a stage where European scouts sit, watch and take notes. An Indonesian player who performs well here could receive a call from a Dutch, Belgian, or even English Championship club. And an Indonesian coach who does well here could receive an offer from another federation in the region.

For Indonesia, hosting Division 1 is not merely a sporting matter. It is a commercial opportunity, a stage for PSSI to demonstrate organisational capacity, and an occasion for domestic brands to attach themselves to a FIFA-branded event. This is the layer of which the squad list is only the surface. If I were a market analyst, I would track whether PSSI signs additional sponsorship deals between the tournament announcement and kickoff. That is the clearest gauge of how highly commercial partners value this tournament.

Risks and signals to watch

There are three risks I will follow until the tournament kicks off.

First is Hilgers' fitness. A centre-back returning from a prolonged injury into a twelve-day tournament is high risk. If he re-injures during preparation or in the opening match, Indonesia's back line loses the spine Herdman appears to be building around. And for a national team dependent on a European-class centre-back, losing him means losing an entire defensive system.

Second is the veracity of the tournament structure. The FIFA ASEAN Cup is a name I have never seen on an official fixture calendar. VIVA reporting details such as dates, team count, and venues is a signal, but these details should be cross-checked against FIFA and PSSI releases before being treated as confirmed fact. In my craft there is a rule: news from a single source is unfinished news. And for a tournament involving national hosting policy, verification matters even more.

Third is the eligibility status of the diaspora players. Names such as Hilgers, Struick, Walian and Zijlstra all relate to the naturalisation and diaspora pipeline. For any FIFA-organised tournament, eligibility standards will be applied strictly, and being on the list does not mean being registered to play. This is a small detail with potentially large legal and structural consequences. If one of these players runs into paperwork trouble, Herdman will have to redo his entire personnel plan just weeks before kickoff.

What I put in my notebook

Three questions written into my black notebook.

One: is Hilgers fit enough to play two matches in three days?

Two: is Ernando Ari the new number one, or just part of a competition that will drag on until the first match?

Three: will the blend of domestic and diaspora players produce a unified dressing room, or merely a collection of individuals from different football cultures?

Those are three questions without answers before the tournament begins. But they are three questions anyone who truly wants to understand Indonesia in 2026 must keep in mind. To write a true story, I have to stand where no one else stands - and in this case, that place is the gap between a published squad list and an unplayed match.

Takeaway: the next heartbeat

I will not say Indonesia is stronger. I will not say they are weaker. What I can say is that over twelve days in September and October 2026, a generation of Indonesian players will step onto a stage that FIFA itself has built for them, under an English coach trying to reshape the team his way. In my black notebook, I will write a line beside Hilgers' name: track his fitness. Beside Ernando Ari: will he start? Beside Rafael Struick: who is the real number nine?

Three questions. Three months of waiting. And in between, a list most readers will scan in thirty seconds, but which I will reread at least ten times. After every contract is a child who grew up inside a stadium - and after every comeback list is an untold story about why they were once left behind.

The rhythm of a national team is not in the names on paper. It is in the sound of boots on grass at the first training session, in the calls between teammates in the dressing room before kickoff, in the silence of a player on the bench who knows he has just lost his place. The squad list is only the first note. The real symphony will be written in Indonesia and Hong Kong, over twelve days that no one can pretend to have already predicted.