Forget the Home Hell: Oman Away Prep and Bong Hyeoksu's Return
I directly called out the public's incitement.
"I agree with the justification for correcting the association's mistakes. But the logic of burning down the whole house to kill the bedbugs isn't justice—it's madness. Some agitators are pretending to uphold justice while using the masses to scream for the death of soccer, but who actually suffers the damage? The players sweating blood on the pitch and the tens of thousands of workers who make their living from the sport."
"When sanctions come down, the association's top brass just step down, but for players, their entire careers—ones they've staked their lives on—vanish in an instant."
I spoke as if addressing the brainwashed 50 Million Bandwagon Fans.
"People are mistaken. They think the Republic of Korea plays soccer. Wrong. The only reason we can kick a ball under the name 'Republic of Korea' in the soccer world is because our association is a member of FEFA, the global soccer club."
The reporters buzzed.
"FEPA isn't a federation of nations—it's like a massive franchise headquarters. Our association is just a franchisee with the soccer business rights they issued. That red uniform you all go crazy for, with the tiger emblem on the chest? Without FEFA membership credentials, it's no different from some street hobby league kit."
"You think we qualify for the World Cup because we're good? No—we get member nation treatment, so we go out there and rack up records."
I stared piercingly into the reporters' eyes and continued.
"It means Korean soccer becomes an orphan in the international community. Overseas clubs lose the basis to sign our players, and our league devolves into backyard soccer. We're talking about ripping up our own license to speak the global language of soccer. Is that justice? Or self-destruction?"
Finally, I shot a sneering warning straight at the camera lenses.
"If the association is rotten, think about surgery to fix it—not inciting people to slit the patient's throat just because you don't like it. The moment the association system collapses, the Korean soccer you claim to love evaporates with it. FEFA cracking down on us isn't because they adore our association—it's because they can't stand rule-breakers. Soccer runs on systems, not emotions."
As my response ended, a heavy silence blanketed the mixed zone. My logic-armed words etched into the reporters' notebooks with far more destructive power than mere anger.
Yoon Seungwoo stepped into the press conference room amid a barrage of flashes, his expression far graver than usual as he took the mic. When questions about my water bottle toss came up, he faced them head-on.
"Rion's actions were undoubtedly inappropriate for a national team player. But..."
Coach Yoon Seungwoo let out a deep sigh before continuing.
"It's regrettable that the arrows of criticism are aimed at the player. In truth, the jeers and anger from the fans in the stadium today were directed not at Rion, but at me, the coach. I failed to earn the fans' trust from the appointment process onward, and today's match performance was disappointing, creating that atmosphere."
Typing sounds in the room halted. He was positioning himself as the target of all blame.
"Rion is a player who only thinks about the team's victory. As coach, I should have shielded the players from the psychological pressure of those jeers in the stadium, but I didn't. Rion throwing the bottle was just his frustration and sense of responsibility bursting out in the wrong way. The blame should fall on me, the coach. It happened because of my shortcomings—not because the player truly wants to fight the fans."
He paused, pretending to glance toward the stands, then gripped the mic again.
"I'll endure all the criticism and jeers aimed at me. I'm flustered too, since this is uncharted territory for me, but ultimately, I'm responsible for creating this situation. That said, I earnestly ask the fans: please cheer for our players to give them strength in the stadium. If there's filth to throw, direct it at me. Protect the players."
Yoon Seungwoo was shielding me. My personal judgment on the ugliness of the agitators had turned into this full defense.
The moment my bombshell interview hit the portal site main pages, the Korean soccer community erupted into civil war.
Incheon Airport departure hall. Yoon Seungwoo's eyes, surrounded by reporters, were sharper than right after the Palestine draw. Despite the backlash, he stood before the mics with even greater confidence than usual.
"Coach, right after the Palestine draw, we face Oman at FEFA rank 76—objectively much stronger. What's your solution?"
Coach Yoon Seungwoo locked eyes with the reporter and replied.
"The Palestine result is entirely my responsibility. But Oman will be different. Oman has higher quality and plays more aggressively at home. I'm confident it'll open up more space and chances for us."
No excuses. He owned the failure while laying out a clear blueprint for the next game.
Finally, he stared down the camera lenses and drove the point home.
"The Oman tactics are complete. We won't sit back—we'll turn their quick counters against them and pierce their heart. I'll show you with results. That's all."
He gave a curt nod and strode toward the gate without hesitation. The players following him carried a taut tension different from before.
Maybe because the Palestine ghosts hadn't faded, an inexplicable fatigue hung on my teammates' shoulders.
Then, at the gate, I spotted a familiar back—Bong Hyeoksu, who had to watch the Palestine game from the stands. Just seeing him in team kit, retying his sneakers, felt like the team's center of gravity stabilizing.
I approached Bong Hyeoksu's back with a mischievous grin.
"Whoa, Hyeoksu hyung? All healed already? If you were gonna shake it off this fast, why skip Palestine?"
At my pointed jab, Bong Hyeoksu turned, chuckled softly, and playfully clenched his fist.
"Rion. Wanna get injured this time?"
"Nah, save it."
As I shrugged playfully, hyung tapped my shoulder with that fist. A rough, deep trust unique to men dead serious about soccer flowed through it.
"Let's go. I'll cover the back solid in Oman."
"You sure you can play? Don't get hurt again."
We chuckled together. Watching the fully recovered Bong Hyeoksu lifted the team's mood. That's the presence he brings to his teammates.