Uzbeks in S'pore celebrate country's 1st World Cup from MacPherson as Cristiano Ronaldo SIUs on them

"You should come for the Portugal match, we love Cristiano."

That very ominous foreshadowing was delivered by one Dilnoza Goibova before the World Cup even began.

Dilnoza is the founder of the Uzbek community group in Singapore, an over 200-strong member group that was started in March 2025.

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We were discussing which match would be best for me to witness the Uzbek community cheer on their team at their first World Cup.

While they obviously watched the first match against Colombia, a 3-1 loss, the cheers and groans were in relative silos, with the awkward timing (10am, during school and work hours) making it tough to have a nice little gathering.

So it was on the second game day that they gathered.

The timing was both much earlier and much more accessible.

Students who had little chance of making early lectures, and adults with every intention in the world to develop a sudden fever by game-end.

When I arrived about 30 minutes before kickoff, a beaming lady came out to greet me.

Dilnoza, the youthful-looking 35-year-old, cheerfully introduced me to some of the founding members of the Uzbek community group in Singapore. The "seniors", as she calls them.

Lutfillo Yuldoshev, 44, Dilshod Jurabaev, 39, and Dilafruz Khusanova, 44. There were a few other "seniors" who weren't there, but were basically around the same age range.

They were all unfailingly nice, had been in Singapore for many years, spoke animatedly about their jobs in Singapore, their love for their home country, Uzbekistan, and their adopted slightly warmer country.

Most of them hoped for a good result, with Uzbekistan scoring a goal.

Jurabaev straight up predicted a 4-0 victory for Uzbekistan.

Apart from that, the four of them were incredibly well-spoken and intelligent. But still surely a bit too young to be considered "seniors"?

However, as the room started to fill up, it became clear why the four youthful-looking folks in their 30s and early-40s were considered as such. The area was packed to the brim with people in their late teens and early 20s.

A young country

Uzbekistan gained independence relatively recently.

The country turns 35 this year, approximately one Dilnoza in age.

But they've been through quite a bit — a change in leadership in the mid 2010s signalled a modernisation drive.

An NPR piece characterised the change as an opening up of "travel and investment" which served as the backdrop for a wider geopolitical repositioning, for a "new Uzbekistan".

And while a lawyer quoted by NPR emphasises that not all in the country have access to this "new Uzbekistan", the country is moving in the right direction.

According to the article, younger Uzbeks, in particular, are more positive about the future of the country.

That optimism would be tested early on, as Cristiano Ronaldo opened the scoring for Portugal and Siu-ed in the sixth minute.

Before the match, Dilnoza and a few other folks had talked to me about how loved Cristiano was in Uzbekistan.

They gave a myriad of reasons for the love (did you know Cristiano visited back in his first stint at Manchester?), with Dilnoza saying Uzbekistan was a Cristiano country.

Others would later characterise the situation as more of a Real Madrid (Cristiano) and Barcelona (Messi) divide.

Whatever it was, I wondered if that would evoke some mixed feelings for Dilnoza? Her love for Cristiano might alleviate the disappointment of a goal against, perhaps?

Here's Dilnoza after the first goal.

A new migrant for the Messi side.

Singapore connection

Even with the less-than-ideal score, it was lucky that the screening was held at an industrial building instead of a residential one, so as not to wake up any non-Uzbek fans.

But why were they here in the first place?

Jurabaev (Mr "4-0") actually works at the interior design office they were watching at, Luxior Concepts.

The boss of the place, Chia, a 30-year-old Singaporean, used to play basketball with Jurabaev back when he was growing up. The friends ultimately reconnected when he set up an interior design place, and Jurabaev was hired as the principal designer.

Chia's an optimistic guy, which I guess you have to be to have weathered the Covid days after just starting a business.

When he was approached by Jurabaev to see if they could use the space for the match, Chia was more than happy to oblige.

In fact, he even sponsored their jerseys (made in and shipped from Uzbekistan), because they couldn't find Uzbekistan jerseys in Singapore.

He explained why he was so accommodating.

"[I told Jurabaev] it's going to feel very different if your friends and countrymen come over to watch the match together."

Together

By now, Cristiano's brace was a distant memory, and Uzbekistan had conceded an own goal by Nematov, pushing the deficit to 4-0.

Still, the spirits at MacPherson remained high (although understandably slightly more subdued). Jurabaev walked by and cheekily said his prediction had been right after all.

It wasn't the spirit of the defeated. In fact, they cheered on every run up the field, cursed the referee for the ruled out goal (as they should), and erupted at every camera pan to an Uzbek supporter.

Acts of varying magnitudes have made this day possible — an improvement of coaching programmes after the 2000 AFC Cup debacle, a separate national youth development sector being formed in 2004, a woman currently cursing Cristiano Ronaldo at a MacPherson office setting up an Uzbek community group in 2025.

All these and much, much more have led to the scenes that were unfolding before me.

For a split second, I let myself meander in wishful thinking.

Wouldn't it be nice to have offices around Singapore cheering for a counterattack, clearance, completed pass, incomplete pass, or a shot of the Singapore flag at whichever far-flung country the World Cup will be held?

I had broached this possibility with Chia. It was the most pessimistic I've seen him.

Next time

But regardless of the scoreline, the night was a resounding success as far as I was concerned.

The nice thing about the World Cup is that it allows the non-football watchers to partake in the absurdity of this 22-man, one-ball soiree.

Many of the folks I talked to that night were not avid football watchers at all. But somehow, the magic of the World Cup led to two university students in their 20s who had not watched much football at all, eloquently telling me how terrible Cristiano was, and why the referee was dead wrong in all his pro-Portugal decisions.

I was unfortunately unable to see the night through with them, having to rush off to catch the England match (bad decision, boring), which meant I missed the 5th goal, when Rafael Leão put a dagger in a dagger-encrusted heart.

Still, I was pretty sure what the reaction would be. A moment to register their groans, before wildly cheering another Uzbekistan flag.

By the time this article is published, Uzbekistan's inaugural World Cup would have ended. Numbers-wise, it's nothing to shout about, zero points and quite an unflattering goal differential.

I asked Dilnoza what she felt about Uzbekistan's final match against Congo.

The frustration was apparent, but so was the unbridled joy for achieving something so monumental, especially for such a young country. She said they were "proud in a way they haven't been before".

"We were so excited — immediate cheering, phone calls, and messages, and some tears. It felt like a dream come true for everyone here."