One of Indonesia’s most storied football institutions, Sriwijaya FC, now stands on the edge of total extinction. The Palembang-based club has been given just 48 hours to respond to a lawsuit filed by the Majestic Hotel Palembang over unpaid debts. Should the Commercial Court rule in favor of the hotel, the state would be empowered to issue a winding-up order—an outcome that would effectively erase Sriwijaya FC from Indonesian football after 21 turbulent years of existence.
The Majestic Hotel’s lawsuit claims that Sriwijaya FC owes close to IDR 1 billion for unpaid accommodation and catering services used throughout the 2024/25 Liga 2 season. While modest in isolation, the claim is devastating in context. It is merely the latest trigger in a financial implosion that has been unfolding since 2018, during which Sriwijaya have accumulated debts exceeding IDR 40 billion—liabilities so severe they have scared off every serious investor who has approached the club.
Berman Limbong, Director of Competitions at PT Sriwijaya Optimis Mandiri (SOM), the club’s holding company, did not mince his words. He confirmed that Sriwijaya would forfeit their upcoming 2025/26 Indonesian Championship home match against PSMS Medan should the court grant the hotel’s request and place the club under a Suspension of Debt Payment Obligations (PKPU).
“Because we’re scheduled to play again on the 27th. If the decision is granted on Monday, what’s the point of playing?” Limbong said, as quoted by Sripoku. “If the panel of judges approves the PKPU application, supporters should not expect to see Sriwijaya FC in the stadium again. I can guarantee there will be no match on the 27th.”
His remarks grew bleaker still as he addressed the nature of the lawsuit itself. “You lose, I lose too. That’s it—it’s over. Make your claim against the former management. This is a limited liability company. The responsibility lies with the legal entity. If the company has nothing, then you get nothing.”
Limbong concluded with a stark assessment of the club’s remaining value: Sriwijaya FC, he said, owns little more than its badge, its social media accounts, and its “pride and determination”—a haunting symbol of how far the once-mighty Laskar Wong Kito have fallen.
Founded in 2004 following the relocation of Persijatim Solo FC to Palembang, Sriwijaya FC were born alongside the opening of the Gelora Sriwijaya Jakabaring Stadium, built to commemorate the National Games. The city had been without a top-flight club since the dissolution of Krama Yudha Tiga Berlian in 1992, and Sriwijaya were meant to revive Palembang’s footballing identity while giving the new stadium a permanent tenant.
They did far more than that. Sriwijaya quickly rose to become a dominant force in Indonesian football, achieving an unprecedented domestic double in the 2007/08 season by winning both the Indonesian Premier Division and the Copa Indonesia. They remain the only club in the country’s history to do so. Two more Copa Indonesia titles followed in 2008/09 and 2009/10, making Sriwijaya the only team to win the competition three times consecutively.
The silverware kept coming: the 2010 Indonesian Community Shield, the 2010 and 2012 Inter-Island Cups, and the 2011/12 Liga Super Indonesia title. On the continental stage, Sriwijaya made their mark by stunning China’s Shandong Luneng Taishan 4–2 in the 2009 AFC Champions League and reaching the knockout stages of the AFC Cup in both 2010 and 2011.
This golden era featured some of Indonesian football’s most recognizable names—Firman Utina, Ferry Rotinsulu, Keith Kayamba Gumbs, Christian Warobay, Charis Yulianto, Ponaryo Astaman, Zah Rahan, and Budi Sudarsono, among many others—guided by respected coaches such as Rahmad Darmawan, Ivan Kolev, Kas Hartadi, and the late Benny Dollo.
Then came 2018.
That year marked the beginning of Sriwijaya’s collapse, coinciding with the club’s stewardship under Dodi Reza, son of then–South Sumatra governor Alex Noerdin. Confident of securing victory in the provincial elections and continuing his father’s political legacy, Dodi embarked on an aggressive spending spree ahead of the 2018 Liga 1 season. Twelve new players arrived, including Hamka Hamzah, Adam Alis, Esteban Vizcarra, Makan Konaté, and Manuchekhr Dzhalilov, while Rahmad Darmawan was reappointed as head coach.
Midway through the campaign, the political gamble unraveled. Dodi narrowly lost the election to Herman Deru, suffering heavy personal and political losses. With Sriwijaya no longer serving its perceived purpose, both Dodi and Alex Noerdin withdrew their support. Star players departed, wages went unpaid, and the club spiraled into chaos. Sriwijaya finished 17th—suffering their first-ever relegation.
The consequences were enduring. Debts from that era crippled the club, and successive attempts to return to the top flight only worsened their financial burden. With the Alex–Dodi political dynasty gone and provincial authorities unable to intervene due to Sriwijaya’s professional status, the club steadily sank further into irrelevance.
Even the signing of Bhutanese star Chencho Gyeltshen in 2023 failed to halt the decline. Though a fan favorite, Sriwijaya could not afford his wages, and he departed midway through the 2024/25 season. By then, the club was unable to recruit replacement foreign players, limping through the second half of the campaign with a patched-together local squad. A late rally under vice-president Mohammad David, aided by limited investment from Digi Sport Asia, narrowly spared them from relegation.
But survival came without stability. Entering the 2025/26 season, Sriwijaya once again faced unpaid wages, minimal resources, and recruitment chaos. They failed to register foreign players, relying instead on veterans and former youth internationals. Planned signings fell through due to paperwork errors or arrived with almost no professional track record. Senior players resigned. And now, the Majestic Hotel lawsuit looms as the final blow.
Sriwijaya FC’s story is no longer just about footballing decline—it is a cautionary tale of how political ambition, financial recklessness, and structural neglect can destroy even the most successful institutions. From domestic dominance and continental nights to courtrooms and unpaid hotel bills, the fall of the Laskar Wong Kito has been slow, painful, and profoundly avoidable. If the Commercial Court grants the PKPU application, Indonesian football will not merely lose a club; it will lose a living piece of its history—reduced to memories, medals, and a badge that once stood for greatness.