Why Did It Have to Be Yoon Seungwoo?
The atmosphere in the National Assembly audit room completely flipped starting from Representative Baek's reasonable questioning at the wrap-up. Shouts and accusations gave way to data and logic filling the space.
Representative Baek set down his documents and fixed his gaze directly on Director Lee Jinhak.
"Director Lee Jinhak, you've explained the procedural delegation. But there's still a lingering question. There are testimonies that even the former selection committee members weren't informed of the final decision at the time of appointment. This could be interpreted as a lack of communication. Why was it handled in secret?"
Lee Jinhak responded in a far more relaxed posture.
"There was a reason for that. At the time, the core details of the former selection committee meetings were leaking out in real-time. Fragmented information was getting out before the committee could even deliberate properly, and the public was passing judgment first. It happened repeatedly."
This wasn't just an excuse. Even I, a professional footballer, and the kid next door could tell from the news articles who was up for consideration as soon as the former selection committee meetings started. We weren't even on the committee, but we chewed them over, tore them apart, savored, and enjoyed them in advance.
"In a situation where public opinion is against it, what coach would take the team with conviction? The association isn't a place that rides the waves of public sentiment—it's where football experts must hold firm to their principles. In a high-risk leakage environment, it was a decision to protect the candidates and take full responsibility for the appointment myself. I saw it as the bare minimum respect for the incoming coach."
Representative Baek nodded. "I understand the intent was to control information to take responsibility for the outcome. Well noted."
Representative Baek's timer hit zero and blinked off. Next to grab the mic was another senior member from the Sports Committee, Representative Ma. Unlike the previous lawmakers, he picked up the questioning calmly.
"Witness Lee Jinhak. I've accepted the reason for the closed information sharing. Now, to the essence: Why Yoon Seungwoo specifically? The public can't understand skipping overseas luminaries like Wagner or Poyet for a domestic coach. Answer."
The room held its breath. I watched Lee Jinhak's one-man show. With plenty of time, he laid it out in exquisite detail.
"Let me coldly compare the candidates on the list at the time by their caliber."
As Lee Jinhak began his explanation, the chat speed picked up.
"Dash was unemployed at the time. He'd just finished his contract after failing to qualify Greece for Euro 2024. Doubts about his tournament-solving ability lingered, and his career since the mid-2010s was dotted with frequent sackings, rating him lower in stability than incumbent champion Yoon Seungwoo."
Representative Ma listened intently to Lee Jinhak's response.
"David Wagner had just been sacked from Norwich City in England's second division after failing promotion. From his Schalke days, he has a distinct tactical identity, but the risk of not stemming a team's decline was too high. Too dangerous a card for a position like the Korean national team where failure isn't tolerated."
Lee Jinhak glanced briefly at Yoon Seungwoo.
"In contrast, Coach Yoon Seungwoo was the incumbent coach of a K League 1 champion team. Over the last five years: two titles, ACL semifinals—the only one among the three who hadn't forgotten how to win. Above all, while foreign coaches waste time figuring out the players, he was the sole battle-ready card who could hit the ground running and rack up points. With only a year left until the World Cup window, that factored in heavily."
Lee Jinhak drove the nail home as he wrapped up.
"Considering the current factionalism within the national team and the unique discipline issues, Yoon Seungwoo was the only one who could seize control of the squad and mediate administrative conflicts within a year. Under the judgment that there were no legal or procedural issues, we placed the most efficient, highest-probability bet. Rather than unemployed overseas coaches, an incumbent domestic one with winning experience had the edge—so we approached Yoon Seungwoo, asked if he'd consider the job, discussed football philosophy, and it led to his appointment."
I chuckled inwardly listening to Lee Jinhak's response from my seat. So very National Assembly audit-like. If this audit had started with shouting and ended the same, that world would have been truly horrific. Only now did the audit room start feeling like a place for real truth-seeking.
Representative Ma jotted down notes quietly on Lee Jinhak's answer, then turned to look at me.
All the room's cameras swiveled to my face.
"Witness Ryu Rion."
"Yes, Representative."
"Witness Lee Jinhak's response was the administrative best-case logic. But ultimately, it's the players who kick the ball, right? As a player, how does Yoon Seungwoo's appointment feel? No regrets about not getting a foreign luminary?"
Luminary..?
I fiddled with the mic for a moment before slowly opening my mouth.
"Representative, appointing a coach in football isn't a math problem. Whether it's Wagner or Dash, players follow the coach who comes. That's pro life. But name value doesn't guarantee results. Even a luminary might fail on discipline or tactics. Above all, Dash and Wagner are a stretch as luminaries—and coaches who aren't can become ones. That's the gap between theory and reality in football, its unique nature."
I glanced at Lee Jinhak and continued.
"Our national team isn't crumbling from one tactical flaw. As you know, faction issues, medical team conflicts... all the chronic ills have surfaced. In this mess, the one who best understands Korean football's quirks, communicates deepest with players, and can sort this out—Yoon Seungwoo fits. I think he's the second-best for the Korean national team's situation right now. An outsider cleaning this swamp in a year? I'm skeptical."
The room went silent. A few lawmakers swallowed hard at my "swamp" word.
Representative Ma nodded, then shifted his gaze to Coach Yoon Seungwoo beside me.
"Good. The player's perspective has merit. Now, Witness Yoon Seungwoo. The claim is your appointment is field-tailored... but this is the point the public struggles with most. You already failed miserably at the Brazil World Cup ten years ago. So why step up again for this poisoned chalice? Pure patriotism?"
Coach Yoon Seungwoo gripped the mic with a heavy expression. Amid the morning's barrage of criticism, a flicker of regret crossed his steadfast eyes.
"The Brazil failure ten years ago... the most painful mark on my coaching career. Preparation was lacking, and I overestimated myself. I was a rookie coach then, but no excuses. It was my shortfall."
He caught his breath, then continued firmly.
"But I haven't left the pitch in the last ten years. I built from the bottom in K League, winning titles. The reason I stand here again is simple: Seeing the association's crisis and the national team's fractures, I judged my ten years of experience had one last place to shine—here. I left the comfort of club life for this arrowboard of blame because I believe it's my final calling in football."
Yoon Seungwoo's answer boiled down to a calculation: his ten years of achievements matched the national team's experience needs.
Representative Ma gathered his papers and fired his final salvo.
"Ultimately, all you witnesses here boil down to one point: Maybe not the best, but the only viable fix for Korean football's worst crisis. Correct?"
To that question, Lee Jinhak, Yoon Seungwoo, and I—all three witnesses—nodded in unison.
If the morning chaos stemmed from lawmakers' ignorance, wasn't this afternoon hush the responsible contemplation of those facing reality?