For much of the early parts of the 2025/26 Indonesian Super League season, Borneo FC Samarinda looked like a team playing a different game from everyone else. Week after week, Pesut Etam imposed themselves with confidence, clarity, and control, racing to the top of the table on the back of an extraordinary 11-game winning streak. Their football was assertive yet composed, their results emphatic, and the sense around the club was unmistakable: this could finally be Borneo FC’s year.
That feeling was built on substance. Borneo’s early-season run was not merely about scraping wins but about dominance. They pressed aggressively, moved the ball with purpose, and punished opponents who dared to leave space behind. At home, the Segiri Stadium became a fortress; away from Samarinda, they showed maturity and patience beyond their years. Eleven consecutive victories at the start of the campaign placed them firmly in control of the title narrative and forced rivals to chase.
However, as the season progressed and the margins grew tighter, the momentum that once carried Borneo so effortlessly began to slow. The first real warning sign arrived in the form of a narrow defeat to Bali United, a result that ended their perfect run and subtly shifted the psychological landscape. For the first time, Borneo looked human. Soon after, a loss to defending league champions Persib Bandung reinforced the sense that opposing teams had started to find answers to Borneo’s intensity and structure.
What followed was not a collapse, but a gradual erosion of certainty. Matches that previously felt comfortable turned tense. Leads became fragile, and moments of concentration grew increasingly decisive. The 2–2 draw against Persebaya Surabaya encapsulated this phase perfectly: Borneo had control, they had the advantage, yet they could not close the game. Conceding late felt symbolic of a side grappling with pressure rather than riding a wave of confidence.
The reasons behind this dip are layered and interconnected. A demanding fixture list has tested both physical endurance and squad depth, while opponents—armed with more data and motivation—have adapted tactically to disrupt Borneo’s rhythm. There is also the psychological weight that comes with being the hunted rather than the hunter. When winning becomes an expectation rather than a surprise, every mistake is magnified and every dropped point feels heavier.
Crucially, though, this downturn has not derailed Borneo FC’s season. Their blistering start ensured they remain firmly in the title conversation, and the foundations laid earlier continue to provide a buffer against a complete slide. The challenge now is less about ability and more about response. How Borneo react to this period of friction will define whether their early dominance becomes a footnote or the opening chapter of a championship story.
In many ways, this is the phase that separates contenders from champions. If Borneo FC can rediscover their sharpness, manage the mental demands of the race, and turn adversity into fuel, their recent dip may yet prove to be a necessary test rather than a fatal flaw. The season is still alive, and so is the promise—but the road ahead will demand resilience as much as quality.