Several national footballers have come under fire for taking part in ‘khep’ outings earlier this week.

Much of the public discourse has centred on how playing in these local matches undermines the reputation of established national players who represent Bangladesh on the international stage. But under the weight of that scrutiny, another question has emerged, that is do these footballers actually have any contractual or legal obligation barring them from doing so?

Even Youth and Sports State Minister Aminul Haque, a former national goalkeeper himself, went as far as questioning the commitment of players who have taken part in local ‘khep’ matches.

National team players including Sheikh Morsalin, Faisal Ahmed and Rakib Hossain were recently spotted participating in local matches in different parts of the country. Countless reels surfaced on social media showing the players turning out on muddy local fields and later washing themselves in ponds. Many of those reels carried commentary from people saying they would rather see their national players performing on bigger stages.

“My question is to those players, and I will also raise it with the Bangladesh Football Federation. The government is paying them monthly allowances in recognition of their professional status. In that case, how appropriate is it for the players to go and play ‘khep’ matches?” Aminul told reporters while watching a football match in Kalshi on Monday night.

“The lack of commitment to the country that I was talking about earlier, and the lack of commitment to oneself, has already been reflected…We want to warn them initially. Then we may consider taking action.”

There is, of course, a reasonable argument behind the state minister’s criticism. If you are a national player, representing your country and receiving public money in recognition of your professional status, there are certain expectations that come with that.

Unlike professional football, these local matches are usually played on unsuitable pitches between amateur teams, in environments a world away from professional standards. Playing in such settings, often for tens of thousands of taka, also carries a genuine risk of injury. It is therefore understandable that turning out for hire is often frowned upon for players representing Bangladesh on the international stage, and can be jarring to see established internationals in settings so far removed from the highest level of Bangladesh football.

But is the only argument simply that they are national players, therefore they should behave like professionals? Because here is the uncomfortable counter to that argument in Bangladesh’s footballing reality: what professional structure are these players actually bound by?

Playing ‘khep’ matches is common practice across Bangladesh sports. It is undoubtedly frowned upon for national players to participate in such contests, but the reality is that it remains deeply embedded in the country’s sporting culture and tradition.

That is perhaps what the state minister was aiming to address. But while the aforementioned footballers are among 18 men’s footballers currently receiving Tk 1 lakh per month as part of the government’s “Krira Hole Pesha, Paribar Pabe Bharosha (When sports become a profession, families gain security)” initiative, the programme does not stipulate whether players can participate in ‘khep’ matches.

So it is fair to ask whether the state minister’s objection is based primarily on optics.

There is a reasonable argument that receiving public money carries certain expectations and responsibilities. But unless those expectations are clearly written into an agreement, is there really a basis for criticising players for breaching a rule that does not appear to exist?

As things stand, there is no apparent contractual obligation in those government allowance agreements that bars the players from playing ‘khep’ matches.

Bangladesh Football Federation (BFF) president Tabith Awal’s relatively soft response also suggests that the BFF has no existing restriction preventing players from doing so in their free time.

“If such an issue comes before us, we will look into it seriously. If we find it to be true, we will take the necessary action. We have not received any complaint that national team or club players are playing elsewhere.

“Until a complaint is made, we will not go looking for complaints ourselves. We will not go looking for people and try to establish them as guilty.”

And that raises the obvious question: what regulation have these players actually broken?

Rakib and Faisal Fahim played for reigning Bangladesh Football League champions Bashundhara Kings last season, while Morsalin, a former Kings player, represented Abahani. All three last played for their respective clubs in May, when the league ended. That was also when their contracts with their clubs reportedly expired.

Their last national-team assignment was on June 5, when Bangladesh beat San Marino away. Rakib and Faisal Fahim played that match, while Morsalin missed it due to injury. Since then, they have had no on-field action for club or country.

Meanwhile, Kings, who boast the best facilities in the country, have seen their activities spiral into extreme uncertainty after FIFA imposed registration bans on four clubs, including Kings, over unpaid dues to foreign players and coaching staff.

The bans prevent the clubs from registering new players, which is a major blow in a country where the common practice is to offer new contracts every year. That uncertainty has left players in limbo, and as a result, many have signed for other clubs, including Faisal Fahim, who joined Mohammedan last month.

So they are free agents until they’ve been signed by a club. And their clubs have not sanctioned them. Their new clubs have not barred them from playing ‘khep’ matches. The BFF has yet to issue a policy against it. And they have not walked out of a national-team camp to honour a ‘khep’ commitment.

So, is it simply that they have broken an unwritten rule about how a national footballer is supposed to behave?

But if that is the case, then this debate is really about optics, or, more uncomfortably, about protecting an image that masks the fragile state of professional football in Bangladesh.

Many argue that players are enticed by the payments they receive in these matches. Those matches can also draw bigger crowds than most BFL fixtures are able to attract.

There is substance to the argument that such payments are not worth the risk of injury. But it is also worth understanding why players might take the money.

Following the ouster of the Sheikh Hasina-led Awami League government on August 5, 2024, players’ stocks have fallen significantly, with many now fetching around half the transfer fees they once commanded.

“The footballers from all clubs have been suffering for the last two seasons with less payment, and if Kings fail to participate in the league, then it will be a big blow for the families of 30 to 35 footballers who are supposed to play for Kings,” Bangladesh captain and Bashundhara Kings captain Topu Barman told The Daily Star when asked about the uncertainty surrounding Kings.

If transfer values have fallen, clubs are struggling financially, Kings’ future is uncertain and players are not guaranteed continuous club employment, then money from ‘khep’ matches can represent something more than voracity. It can be supplementary income in an unstable profession.

Yes, that does not make the injury risk worth taking. But it does mean the economic incentive deserves to be understood before the players are judged.

There is also a delicious irony here. If a national-team player can attract a bigger crowd by appearing in a local ‘khep’ match than his professional league match can attract, what does that say about the appeal and health of the professional domestic league?

It brings forth a pill that may be too hard to swallow, which is that perhaps the professional game has not given them, or the public, enough reason to stay there.

And there is another layer to this uniquely Bangladeshi problem. Local politicians, organisers and influential figures can urge players to participate in these matches, requests that can be almost impossible to refuse. That was the case when talented midfielder Hemanta Vincent Biswas claimed to have taken part in such a match after a request from local organisers in 2015, without realising the consequences.

Hemanta had opted to stay out of the national-team camp to recover from a hamstring injury, but then played in a local match in his hometown of Dinajpur. The federation subsequently sanctioned him and barred him from joining the camp.

That episode shows why simply telling players to “behave professionally” is not enough. Professionalism needs clearly defined boundaries, and those boundaries need to exist within a system that is itself professional.

The ‘khep’ conundrum exposes that contradiction. If players are criticised for acting unprofessionally while their professional contracts are uncertain, their clubs are financially and administratively unstable, their earning power has fallen and their employment is not guaranteed, then the boundaries of “professional football” are themselves unstable.

If ‘khep’ is deemed unacceptable for national players, then the authorities need to establish why, establish the rules clearly and provide a professional structure in which those rules actually make sense.

If professionalism means not playing on poor pitches, protecting your body, maintaining fitness and respecting your national-team status, then yes, ‘khep’ participation can reasonably be questioned.

But if professionalism means having a contract, being paid, working under regulated conditions, having enforceable obligations and knowing where you stand as an employee, then Bangladeshi football itself appears to have some distance to travel.

And perhaps that is the real issue here. Not whether a national footballer played a ‘khep’ match, but whether the system asking him not to has done enough to give him that sense of security.