I still remember the first time I watched the Philippine Azkals play back in 2010 during that historic AFC Challenge Cup qualifier against Mongolia. The atmosphere was electric, but what struck me most was how different our football team looked compared to previous iterations. They weren't just playing football—they were building something that would eventually transform the entire landscape of Philippine football. Over the past decade, I've closely followed their journey from underdogs to regional contenders, and I've identified five key strategies that fundamentally changed their trajectory.
One of the most significant shifts came when the team embraced what I like to call "the diaspora advantage." Before 2010, the national team primarily consisted of local players with limited international exposure. The strategic decision to tap into the global Filipino community changed everything. Players like Neil Etheridge, who came through Chelsea's youth academy, and Stephan Schrock, with Bundesliga experience, brought professional standards that elevated the entire squad. I recall watching Phil Younghusband's debut and thinking how his experience at Chelsea's youth system showed in his technical quality. This wasn't just about getting better players—it was about importing a football culture that simply didn't exist here before. The statistics speak for themselves: before 2010, the Philippines ranked around 170th in FIFA rankings. By 2018, they peaked at 111th, their highest ever position.
What really fascinates me about their transformation, though, goes beyond just recruiting foreign-based players. The development of domestic infrastructure, particularly the Philippines Football League launched in 2017, created a sustainable pathway for local talent. I've visited training facilities in Carmona and witnessed how these professional environments have raised the standard for young Filipino players. The league might not be perfect—attendance numbers sometimes disappoint me, with some matches drawing only a few hundred spectators—but it's creating a generation of players who can compete professionally without leaving the country. This dual approach of combining international experience with domestic development has been brilliant, if you ask me.
The tactical evolution under various coaches, particularly Thomas Dooley and Sven-Goran Eriksson, represented another crucial strategy. I've always believed that Southeast Asian football suffers from being too predictable, but the Azkals learned to adapt their style to different opponents. Against stronger teams, they'd employ a disciplined defensive block and quick counterattacks, while against regional rivals, they'd take more initiative. I particularly enjoyed watching them during the 2014 AFC Challenge Cup where their tactical flexibility took them to the semifinals. Their 3-2 victory over Tajikistan in that tournament remains one of my favorite matches—a masterclass in strategic adaptation.
But what truly sets the Azkals apart, in my opinion, is something less tangible than tactics or recruitment. It's that never-say-die spirit that coach Dante Palermo of Choco Mucho perfectly captured when he said, "Sa'min kasi, yung never-say-die spirit namin, talagang every time na may mahirap na situation, tinatakbuhan namin yung isa't isa." This mentality has become the team's DNA. I've seen them claw back from seemingly impossible situations, like their dramatic 2-1 comeback against North Korea in 2019 World Cup qualifiers. That match had me on the edge of my seat—down 1-0 until the 84th minute, then scoring twice in six minutes. That wasn't just skill; that was character.
Commercial strategy and fan engagement might not be as glamorous as on-field performances, but they've been equally transformative. The Azkals understood early that to sustain success, they needed to build a brand. Their savvy social media presence, particularly on platforms like Facebook and Instagram where they've amassed over 500,000 combined followers, created a connection with fans that previous national teams never achieved. I've attended their public appearances and witnessed how they've become genuine celebrities here. This commercial appeal translated into better sponsorship deals—I estimate their current annual sponsorship revenue has grown from virtually nothing to approximately $2 million, though I should note this is my educated guess rather than official figures.
Looking at their journey holistically, what impresses me most is how these strategies reinforced each other. Better players improved performances, which attracted more fans and sponsors, which funded better facilities and programs. It created what I'd describe as a virtuous cycle of development. They've had setbacks, of course—I was disappointed by their recent AFF Championship performances, and I think their FIFA ranking has slipped to around 130th as of 2023—but the foundation they've built ensures Philippine football will never return to its pre-Azkals obscurity.
The transformation of Philippine football through the Azkals offers lessons that extend beyond sports. Their success demonstrates how strategic thinking, combined with that undeniable Filipino resilience, can overcome historical disadvantages. As someone who's followed their journey from the beginning, I'm convinced that while there's still work to be done, the Azkals have permanently altered our football landscape. They've shown what's possible when talent, strategy, and that never-say-die spirit come together—and honestly, I can't wait to see what they achieve next.
