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With the football association leadership crisis and Indonesia standing on the cusp of a suspension from FIFA, football’s governing body, if it can’t organize an election to select a new chairman, it’s easy to forget what it was that has brought football in the country to this sorry state.

A few years back the association, known as the PSSI, decided it would be a great idea if a country that lacked decent roads, a functioning rail network and a flight safety record bid for the World Cup in 2022. And, with a straight face, it called the bid the “Green World Cup.”

Indonesia’s bid never went beyond a few headlines and a brochure, in Indonesian, on the PSSI Web site that was removed when it became clear the government had no intention of backing it, a FIFA requirement.

What was wonderful about that document, amid the tales of greenery and shrubbery, was the magical appearance of a whole host of stadiums across the country that would magically appear once Indonesia had been selected as hosts.

So with cities like Tangerang, Bogor and Makassar to grow 50,000-plus seater stadiums, close reading said that actually it would need somebody else to pay for them and no, there were no plans on any drawing board.

Indonesia, a football daft country if ever there was one, is noticeably bereft of quality arenas. And those they do have are in the most unlikely of places.

Jakarta, being the capital, feels the absence more than most. The Bung Karno Stadium, right in the middle of the city, holds 88,000 people and is just about everything you would expect of a soulless stadium rented out for religious meets, political rallies and civil service entrance exams, built with Soviet help in the early 1960s.

Indonesia fills it for really big games. Some 96,000 entered for the Asean Football Federation Suzuki Cup final in 2010 against Malaysia, while a friendly against Hong Kong in 2007 pulled in just over 7,000.

Surely a world-class city like Jakarta has other more medium-sized options? Well, no, it doesn’t.

There is Lebak Bulus in South Jakarta. But it holds a meager 12,500 and now the city fathers have decided it is surplus to requirements and propose knocking it down, to be replaced by a depot for the MRT whenever that gets off the ground.

There are two other stadiums in Jakarta — Soemantri Brodjonegoro and Tugu — but neither of them are much good.

That’s about it.

What it means is that when Indonesia does get to host major international events, like the Asian Cup in 2007 and the AFF Cup in 2008 and 2010, it struggles to provide arenas and training facilities.

In 2007 the Si Jalak Harupat Stadium in Soreang was used for one game. It was not well-received by teams or officials. Soreang? About an hour’s drive from Bandung.

For the last couple of AFF Cups teams have been forced to fly to Palembang, South Sumatra, to use Sriwijaya Stadium. Like the Soreang stadium, access is horrendous, just one road in and one road out.

Other good-quality stadiums can be found in cities like Samarinda, Tenggarong and Bontang in East Kalimantan. But as none have a fully functioning airport they are only used for domestic games. Solo, Sidoarjo, Gresik and Malang also boast decent arenas.

The best stadium in the country, though, rarely sees the light of day. The Maguwoharjo Stadium in Sleman, just outside Yogyakarta, is used by Premier Division side PSS. While it draws crowds of 6,000 plus, the stadium, known locally as Mini San Siro, deserves a wider audience.

New stadiums are cropping up slowly, but construction just isn’t seen as a priority by Indonesian clubs, and city councils don’t seem too bothered either, preferring to shoehorn a few more shopping malls into their precincts.