Reijnders' Mysterious Absence: Is Al-Qadsiah Wasting €61 Million or Playing a Long Game?

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia – 21:47 Friday night, Al-Awwal Park Stadium. When Al-Qadsiah's official lineup was released one hour before kick-off in Round 5 of the Roshn League, reporters in the press room noticed something unusual: Tijjani Reijnders' name was not on the squad list. No injury. No suspension. Just a brief club statement: "The player is absent for undisclosed personal reasons." When Article 17 sits on the deliberation table, I remember the way Neymar walked past the law without looking down at his feet. This time, no article was violated, but the way Al-Qadsiah handled the information reminds me of a basic refereeing principle: silence is never a verdict. It is merely a delay. Look at the bigger picture. Al-Qadsiah spent €61 million this summer to bring Reijnders from Manchester City to Saudi Arabia. It was one of the most expensive transfers in club history, a clear statement of intent to the rest of the league. But after 3 matches, the Dutch midfielder has only 1 goal and 0 assists. And now he misses a match where his team is heavily favored against Al-Diriyah. This absence is neither technical nor tactical. What does that mean? It means the club views Reijnders as replaceable in the short term, not as an untouchable tactical cornerstone. A player bought for €61 million, at age 28 – the peak years for a creative midfielder – is allowed to miss an important match for "personal reasons." That says a lot about how the club views his value. Compare this to how top European clubs handle similar situations. When Kevin De Bruyne missed matches for family reasons at Manchester City, Pep Guardiola always made official statements, reassured fans, and most importantly, provided a specific timeline. Al-Qadsiah did none of that. They issued a vague statement and let things drift. This leads me to a bigger question: Is this a sign of a deeper problem in how Saudi football operates? When clubs spend heavily to bring in European stars, they often forget that football is not just about money and contracts. It is also about integration, culture, and a sense of belonging. A 28-year-old player coming from Manchester, accustomed to luxury and absolute professionalism, suddenly has to adapt to a completely different environment in Saudi Arabia. That is never easy. From a tactical standpoint, Reijnders' absence forces Al-Qadsiah to play a different match. Without him, the team loses its ability to control the tempo from midfield, loses those line-breaking passes that dismantle opposing defenses. In the match against Al-Diriyah, they still won, but the quality of play clearly dropped. I have watched enough matches in this league to recognize the difference between a team with Reijnders and a team without him. VAR is not wrong. What is wrong is our belief that it can replace a night where a referee makes a mistake. Similarly, €61 million is not wrong. What is wrong is our belief that it can buy stability and integration. Money can buy talent, but it cannot buy mental and emotional commitment. Looking at the financial structure of this deal, I see a familiar pattern. €61 million for a 28-year-old is a fair price by European market standards, but it raises questions about wage structure and squad balance. When one player earns significantly more than the rest of the squad, it creates invisible pressure. Other players begin to question their own value, and the dressing room starts to develop hidden fractures. I remember the lesson from Dynamo Dresden in 2026. When I proposed cutting the wage budget by 20%, selling the captain, and renegotiating sponsorship deals, I was called "heartless." But I do not regret it. Because in football, as in refereeing, being heartless is sometimes the only way to keep things fair and sustainable. Al-Qadsiah might be in a similar situation. They need to decide: Is Reijnders a long-term investment or an unnecessary luxury item? The truth is, with 3 appearances and 1 goal, Reijnders has yet to prove his value. But that does not mean he will fail. Some players need time to adapt to a new environment. Some players need a full season to rediscover their peak form. And some players, no matter how talented, can never integrate into a football culture that is so different from their own. The question here is not whether Reijnders is good. He is certainly good. He played for Manchester City, one of the world's top clubs. The real question is: Does Al-Qadsiah have the patience to wait for him to shine? And more importantly, do they have the wisdom to build a team around him, rather than simply buying a star to decorate their roster? In modern football, victory does not come from buying the most expensive players. It comes from building a cohesive unit where every player understands their role and is willing to fight for the shirt. Reijnders' mysterious absence could be an accident, or it could be a signal that Al-Qadsiah is facing internal issues they do not want to make public. The transfer bubble does not burst because of exorbitant prices. It bursts because people forget that a contract is a piece of paper, and paper knows how to burn. Al-Qadsiah signed a €61 million contract with Reijnders. But that contract only has value on paper. Its real value is proven on the pitch, through matches, through goals, through assists, and most importantly, through the player's commitment to the club. Dresden taught me: when people say "we have no problems," they are actually saying "we have many problems." Al-Qadsiah says Reijnders is absent for personal reasons. I believe them. But I also believe that a club spending €61 million on a player cannot let him miss an important match without a clearer explanation. Ambiguity in communication is the first sign of an organization in trouble. Looking ahead, Al-Qadsiah needs to make a critical decision. They can continue to wait for Reijnders to adapt, or they can start building a team that does not depend on him. Both options carry risks. But the worst option is to do nothing and let things drift. In my refereeing career, I learned that hesitation is the greatest enemy of justice. A hesitant referee creates injustice. A hesitant club creates chaos. Al-Qadsiah is at a crossroads. They can become one of Asia's top clubs, or they can become a lesson in wastefulness in modern football. Reijnders' absence in the match against Al-Diriyah may mean nothing. But it could also be the first sign of a bigger problem. In football, as in life, small details often reveal big truths. And the way a club handles those small details will determine their fate. Al-Qadsiah spent €61 million to buy a star. Now, they need to prove they know how to use that star. If not, they will just be a wealthy club with empty ambitions. And in football, nothing is more absurd than a wealthy club without direction. I will continue to follow this story. Because I believe it is not just about a player missing a match. It is about the future of Saudi football, about how clubs here build their squads, and about what they truly value: victory, reputation, or mere glamour. As I left Al-Awwal Park that night, I could not help but think of a simple question. If Reijnders were not their most expensive star, would Al-Qadsiah have handled his absence differently? The answer, I fear, would not please romantic football fans.