Imagine if from the A-League's inception in 2005, the competition had cleverly placed itself as a place for players from the massive continent to the north to test themselves, especially those from Southeast Asia.

Not only would the league had offer a great challenge in a fantastic environment (on and off the pitch), it served as an English-speaking halfway house between Asia and Europe for those that had such ambitions.

At first the players would've been at the opposite end of their careers -starting out or winding down - but as some thrived, better and better athletes could be attracted.

The money on offer improved. After all, with the A-League employing players from India, Southeast Asia, China, Korea, Japan and other nations, there was genuine interest in their home countries.

As bigger stars headed down under, overseas television audiences and revenues increased and so did sponsorship.

More money in the A-League meant higher standards, more fans and more teams. At the same time, clubs and federation were united in their efforts to reach out and engage with the millions of potential fans located to the north.

It doesn’t sound that fanciful. It really could have happened. In the years leading up to Australia joining the AFC, the scenario painted above was talked about in various guises over various dinners with Asian officials.

While there have been moments: for a time Adelaide United, the early success story in the AFC Champions League, were busy behind the scenes in East Asia. Signings such as Shinji Ono and Keisuke Honda went down well in continental terms but there was little that was sustained or consistent.

It should have come from the top and in the form of action and not words. The J.League pushed into Southeast Asia to sign a string of agreements with FAs and broadcasters and then clubs followed to sign players and forge individual partnerships all over a football-mad region of over 700 million residents.

This was done under a new ASEAN quota rule that allowed clubs to sign Southeast Asian players outside of the normal restrictions for foreign players.

For a number of ‘partner nations’ in the region, there is no limit on how many J.League clubs can sign and put in their matchday squads.

Others have not gone quite as far but Malaysia and Thailand offer an extra slot for players from their own region.

And from 2020, as was announced last week, so will South Korea’s K-League. While Japan and Korea have long wanted a higher standard in Asia to give them the platform to challenge the best in the world --it is not easy to do so when 90% of your competitive games come against weaker opposition --the reasons are financial.

Japan sees the ASEAN region as a place to make fans and revenue and officials know that while star players don’t guarantee success, their absence pretty much means failure. Korea is starting further back but is forging ever-closer cultural ties across Southeast Asia with football another string to that bow.

As K-League officials said “Why not?” Clubs don’t have to utilise the extra spot but there are benefits.

Southeast Asian players are relatively cheap and see Japan and Korea as a step up and a challenge, unlike some of the jaded Brazilians that still arrive in numbers. Many will (and have) fail but others, such as Chanathip Songkrasin of Consadole Sapporo will not. Thailand’s biggest star has done much to change the perception of Southeast Asian players in Japan and elsewhere and market the J.League back home

One wonders why the FFA has not followed suit. After all, Southeast Asia is relatively close and has respect for Australian football.

An ASEAN quota would be a simple but effective way of showing that the country is ready to engage. It would only be a start and would have to be backed up by years of action at national and club level but it seems like a natural and necessary step forward.

Southeast Asia is only going to become a bigger and more important market in football in the coming years. It should be Australia’s backyard but the way things are going, the A-League is going to be standing at the kitchen window and watching rivals enjoy the fruits on offer.