Fierce Rivalry on the Pitch and a Generous Gift for the Troops
The atmosphere of the 2002 World Cup match between the Korean and American teams was nothing short of war. Korea was busy scripting the greatest upset of the group stage, while the United States was matching that fire with their own surging momentum. The US had drawn with Poland but beaten Portugal, producing a major surprise of their own. Poland’s hopes of advancing would depend on their simultaneous match against Portugal and the result of this game, but Portugal had already been eliminated with two losses. For the Americans, a draw against Korea would guarantee advancement on goal difference; a loss would require some complex calculations. Korea, on the other hand, would advance even in defeat, so they carried the lightest hearts. Yet the match itself burned with ferocious intensity.
It could not have been otherwise. Earlier that year, the Winter Olympics had taken place in Salt Lake City. Short-track speed skating was Korea’s only real medal hope, and in that event American athlete Apolo Anton Ohno had stolen gold with what Koreans universally condemned as a “Hollywood action” foul. The skater who should have been disqualified was Ohno himself, yet the Korean leader was the one penalized. The controversy had poured gasoline on the flames of anti-American sentiment already rising in South Korea as an ironic side effect of improved North-South relations.
The surge in anti-American feeling was itself somewhat comical when examined closely. North Korea’s transformation into a more normal state had punched a massive hole in the activist movement’s traditional struggle narrative. The university-centered left, once poised to ride Juche ideology all the way into the National Assembly, suddenly found its framework shattered. Ironically, the political forces that had delivered the most tangible results from inter-Korean cooperation were the Democratic Liberal Party and the United People’s Party. Even the Democratic Party, now in power, was building its engagement on foundations those earlier parties had laid. The activists who had led the 1988 revolution but still lacked seats in parliament found themselves completely sidelined. Their new rallying cry became anti-Americanism: the demand for US troop withdrawal, renewed focus on the No Gun Ri civilian massacre, and outrage over crimes committed by American soldiers. Most recently they had fiercely opposed the construction of a new live-fire range at Maehyang-ri, giving President Kim Dae-jung a permanent headache.
At least the situation had not worsened further after Al Gore replaced Bush in the White House. Still, a quiet undercurrent of resentment toward America ran through the public. Its intensity had lessened compared to the past, but its breadth had expanded dramatically.
The national soccer team felt the same charge. By incorporating three North Korean players into a unified squad, the team approached the match against the United States with extraordinary fighting spirit. Both sides therefore collided at full strength, turning the contest into a blazing battlefield.
The United States took a 1-0 lead. In the vast open field in Yeoncheon that had been turned into a cheering arena, the reaction split into polar opposites. The Second Infantry Division erupted in whistles and chaos, while the soldiers of Korea’s 28th Division fell into stunned silence. But the quiet lasted only a moment. Far more ferocious cheering exploded from the Korean side, as if they refused to lose even in the stands. Prizes had been offered for the best cheering performance, yet by now no one cared about rewards. The sheer passion of the support seemed to ignite the Korean team.
Despite falling behind, they refused to wilt and attacked with even greater ferocity.
“Huh? It went in?”
The VIP seats had been placed at the very back out of consideration for the soldiers, but the massive Infinity Display made Lee Eul-yong’s penalty kick crystal clear. A thunderous roar erupted from the Korean cheering section at the same instant. Yoo Jae-won was equally startled. In the original timeline, Lee Eul-yong had missed this very penalty.
“Wow, what a powerful strike. Congratulations.”
Former President Clinton, who preferred baseball to soccer, offered calm congratulations. Tiffany, who was cheering for both nations at once, did the same. Yoo Jae-won accepted their good wishes with a smile, but inside he felt strangely unsettled. An unexpected change had occurred in the soccer team, and he could not tell whether it was good or bad. With group-stage advancement already secured, it might have been wiser to manage their stamina. In the original history, the team had reached the semifinals only to fall because of that very chronic fitness problem. This was the first time they had climbed so high in a brutal tournament schedule, and exhaustion had caught up with them. He worried the all-out effort against the United States might exact the same price later.
“Waaa! Korea fighting!”
Yoo Jae-won’s mind had briefly grown complicated, but he soon joined the celebration. Reaching the final was wonderful, yet worrying about every possible twist was pointless. In moments like these, it was better to simply enjoy the present. The score stood at 1-1, the match had grown even more intense, and it had become far more entertaining.
The final score of the last group-stage match between Korea and the United States was a thrilling 3:2.
The team that scored three goals was, of course, the Korean side—the greatest sensation of the 2002 World Cup. The United States, with two goals of their own, had also displayed impressive quality and delivered a refreshing shock to the soccer world. America was a country of professional sports with massive leagues in baseball, American football, basketball, and ice hockey. Soccer had always been an afterthought, yet the level they showed today was clearly more advanced than ever before. Thanks to their strong goal difference, the United States advanced to the round of sixteen ahead of Poland despite the loss.
The cheering contest ended in victory for Korea as well. Even if the Korean team had lost on the pitch, they would still have won the stands. Compared to the American soldiers who simply chanted “USA” or shouted in unison, the 28th Division’s prepared performance had been on another level.
“We will now invite former President Clinton and Chairman Yoo Jae-won and his wife to the stage for the award ceremony.”
The ceremony proceeded immediately. Although the emcee mentioned only Clinton and the Yoo couple, the stage was packed with stars: the commander of US forces in Korea, the commander of Combined Forces Command, the corps commander of the Sixth Corps, and many other high-ranking officers. The combined weight of a former American president and Yoo Jae-won had produced this result.
At Clinton’s question, a massive cheer erupted. In the military, superiors usually received affirmative answers by default, but these roars were pure, unfiltered joy. Neither the conscripted Korean soldiers nor the volunteer American troops had ever experienced a festival quite like this.
The Support Award goes to the Republic of Korea’s 28th Infantry Division.
The Friendship Award goes to the US 2nd Infantry Division.
The results were exactly as expected. With only two participants, naming the prizes “Support” and “Friendship” had been necessary to avoid the awkwardness of first and second place, but Korea’s victory was undeniable.
The awards were presented by Chairman Yoo Jae-won and his wife. The commander of the 28th Division came up personally. Surrounded by so many stars and journalists, he stood ramrod straight.
“Congratulations. We really enjoyed your passionate cheering!”
Yoo Jae-won handed over the trophy with warm words while Tiffany presented a bouquet. As a special prize, they also gave a large certificate board covered with logos: Bordeaux HDTV, washing machines, dryers, Xbox, and cable television.
The division commander’s expression turned puzzled. Receiving gifts was wonderful, but the certificate did not specify quantities.
Chairman Yoo Jae-won has promised to supply Bordeaux HDTVs, Classe large-capacity washer-dryer sets, Xbox game consoles, and cable television subscriptions to every platoon barracks across the entire armed forces.
The moment the emcee explained, the commander gasped. He had to double-check whether he had heard “entire armed forces” correctly. Most barracks still used old CRT televisions—many with only a single set per platoon. The same went for laundry; hand-washing in freezing winters remained a bitter memory, especially when soldiers had to wash others’ uniforms as well.
Yoo Jae-won, who remembered those days vividly, had decided to use part of his “money swag” to supply every platoon in the army, air force, and navy with modern appliances. The quantity would not even reach one hundred thousand units. He had also added Xboxes so soldiers could enjoy their free time, and cable subscriptions for forward units that often suffered from poor reception.
The Friendship Award gifts were similar—Bordeaux TVs and Xboxes—but in smaller quantities. American soldiers could freely bring personal items into barracks anyway. Altogether the prizes cost roughly 100 billion won, yet to Yoo Jae-won it was a negligible sum compared to the fortune he had recently acquired.
“We have sufficient stock. Distribution will begin tomorrow, starting with the victorious 28th Division.”
At the words “tomorrow,” cheers erupted from the 28th Division soldiers.
“We have also prepared gifts and lucky lottery tickets for the civilian guests, so please collect them on your way out!”
Yoo Jae-won had not forgotten the students and residents of Yeoncheon either.
“Finally, I want to say one thing to all of you. Thank you sincerely for your military service.”
The loudest cheer of the day rose at Yoo Jae-won’s final words. There was no distinction between Korean and American. After a group photograph, the long-named event—2002 World Cup Yeoncheon Korea-US Combined Cheering Competition—came to a close.
Although the biggest headlines went to the Korean team’s perfect 3-0 group stage record after defeating the United States, Yoo Jae-won’s massive gesture also dominated the news. The sheer scale was impressive, but what truly shocked viewers was the visual: former President Clinton and high-ranking American generals treating Yoo Jae-won with obvious respect. In the usual power dynamic, Korea automatically became the weaker party when facing America. Yet here were American generals and a former US president showing genuine warmth toward a Korean businessman—an unfamiliar and striking image.
From their perspective, however, it was only natural. Everyone knew of his close friendship with President Al Gore. They also remembered how Yoo Jae-won had cooperated with the US military during the 9/11 attacks and helped achieve remarkable results in Afghanistan. Moreover, even career soldiers eventually retired, and many worried about their post-service careers. ID Group offered the perfect solution. The conglomerate was already expanding into defense technology through its high-tech research institutes and producing real results. No better landing spot existed for retiring officers.
Thus, what seemed like a modest distribution of gifts in Korea had created enormous ripples. But for Yoo Jae-won, the real game was only beginning. After fully enjoying the group stage, he flew to the United States with Tiffany. The trip would last only one night and two days before returning to Korea, but its purpose was anything but ordinary.
It was the signing ceremony for the acquisition of America’s flagship broadcast network, NBC.