The Sinking of the Italian Giant

Money Swag. “Hmph, for crying out loud.” Jeon Jae-jun groaned as he hung up the phone with Yoo Jae-won. Even before making the call, he had been ninety-nine percent certain what Yoo Jae-won would say. Sure enough, Yoo Jae-won had not disappointed. If anything, Jeon Jae-jun had only received a thorough scolding for even considering the idea in the first place. How could the president of the Korea Football Association, the very man who was supposed to shield the national team from outside pressure, be swayed by such nonsense? That had been the sharp rebuke.

“Still, I can’t just ignore it either.”

He could have gritted his teeth and called Coach Hiddink to pass along North Korea’s protest. Yet Jeon Jae-jun found himself unable to disregard Yoo Jae-won’s words. Their relationship already spanned more than ten years. In all that time, he had never once seen one of Yoo Jae-won’s choices miss the mark. From the very beginning—when everyone at Mirae Group had opposed former Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon’s entry into politics—Yoo Jae-won’s judgment had been on another level. It was Yoo Jae-won who had transformed the hollow Tongil National Party into a genuine nationwide force and the undisputed second-largest party in the National Assembly. Though they had stumbled once, he had known exactly what to discard and what to keep, ultimately guiding Jeon Myeong-heon all the way to the Blue House. Above all, the ID Group that Yoo Jae-won himself led had risen to become the world’s number-one corporation in a mere decade. Just days earlier, it had demonstrated its might by purchasing the American broadcast network NBC entirely in cash. Rockefeller Center had come as a bonus.

“The kids these days call it swagger, don’t they? Anyway, he’s got swagger.”

Before becoming president of the Football Association, Jeon Jae-jun had first established his identity as a politician. Thanks to that, he had picked up the latest internet slang, and the word “swagger” had somehow lodged itself in his mind. The admiration came naturally. NBC was beyond imagination, but Rockefeller Center was a New York landmark he had visited multiple times. It was also an icon of the 1980s, when the Japanese economy seemed poised to dominate the world. During the bubble economy era, when rumors circulated that selling all the land in Tokyo could buy the entire United States, Japanese capital had indeed been snapping up American assets on a massive scale—and Rockefeller Center had been one of those acquisitions. The fact that ID Group had now purchased it carried enormous symbolic weight. When news of ID Group’s acquisition of NBC broke, the Tongil National Party’s approval rating had surged by a full three percent. The party now stood at thirty-eight percent in party-support polls, surpassing even the ruling Democratic Party. Naturally, that number had lodged itself firmly in Jeon Jae-jun’s heart. If he ran as the Tongil National Party candidate in the 2003 presidential election, victory was entirely possible. Since this would be the first election under the two-term limit system, President Kim Dae-jung’s advantage was difficult to gauge precisely. Still, given his advanced age, it was reasonable to assume he would not seek a second term, leaving room for Jeon Jae-jun to dream of the presidency. Consequently, the question of how to politically capitalize on the 2002 FIFA World Cup Inter-Korea’s performance weighed heavily on his mind.

The Korea team’s strong showing in the World Cup had nothing to do with Jeon Jae-jun’s political skill. Nevertheless, his popularity had risen sharply. Looking more closely at the weekly approval-rating graphs he received, every time the Korea team won, Jeon Jae-jun’s numbers climbed in tandem. So many people had come to believe that bringing in Coach Hiddink and pouring every Korean resource into the team had been the result of Jeon Jae-jun’s strategic foresight. In reality, he had simply been thin-eared, moving exactly as those around him told him to. And more often than not, that person had been Yoo Jae-won.

This time was no different. In Jeon Jae-jun’s own view, the Korea team had already done enough. They had defeated strong opponents in Poland, the United States, and Portugal, but Italy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the round of sixteen was on another level. He had thought that, for the sake of a graceful finish, it might be better to field one North Korean player. The technical director, advisors, and committee members at the Football Association had all agreed. External pressure had been intense. That was when he remembered the past and dialed Yoo Jae-won, only to hear exactly the response he had expected. Strangely enough, once he heard that expected answer, the voices of the committee members and the loud external clamor all vanished at once.

He would leave it to Coach Hiddink. That was the decision of Jeon Jae-jun, president of the Football Association.

June 18th. The Daejeon World Cup Stadium was packed with a full house of thirty-eight thousand spectators. Having stands filled with one’s own citizens was the greatest advantage for the host nation. One-sided cheering exerted tremendous psychological pressure on the opposing players. Yet the 2002 World Cup was proving to be quite the commercial success, so even matches between other countries drew large Korean crowds, along with passionate fans traveling from those nations. In particular, the Pyongyang matches had all sold out thanks to the novelty of being able to visit the North Korean capital, long hidden behind the Iron Curtain. Of course, the biggest highlight remained the Korea team’s matches. Many wondered whether the team that had already caused a shock by surpassing Senegal in the group stage could pull off another upset against the traditional powerhouse Italy.

This time, however, there was none of the fierce war of words from the past. Previously, Francesco Totti, Italy’s biggest franchise star, had sparked outrage with his remark that “one goal against Korea is enough.” The original statement had been misreported as “Korea is a good team, but I predict a 1-0 victory for our Italian side.” This time, no such misinformation circulated.

“Is it because Daehan Ilbo is gone?”

The only person who could have confirmed that was Yoo Jae-won, who now sat in the VIP box at Daejeon World Cup Stadium, tilting his head in curiosity. Having already enjoyed the group-stage matches through street cheering, he had come to the stadium for the round of sixteen, wanting to experience the atmosphere in person.

“Daehan Ilbo? Wasn’t that the newspaper that went bankrupt?”

His father, Yoo Bong-man, overheard Yoo Jae-won’s muttered words and asked. Since the World Cup was a national festival, Yoo Jae-won had decided that if he was going to watch in person, he would bring the entire family. Though Yoo Bong-man and his elder brother preferred baseball over K-League soccer, when it came to the national football team, their passion matched any baseball fan’s. Both men now waited for kickoff in a state of high excitement.

“It did go bankrupt. Thanks to that, the national mood feels pretty good these days.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant. Now that you mention it, the media has been noticeably quieter lately.”

Quieter was perhaps an understatement—they seemed to have completely lost their minds riding the World Cup wave. Still, with the entire nation absorbed in the tournament, such behavior did not seem strange. During conservative administrations, the paper had acted as though it were one with the regime, securing its interests, while under opposing governments it had nitpicked every issue and thrown obstacles in their path. With that one company gone, the atmosphere felt different. Daehan Ilbo, which had gone beyond sensationalism to manufacture and distribute outright fake news, no longer existed. Most of its owners were behind bars. Not all of them had been caught, of course, and the fortune they had amassed by liquidating Daehan Ilbo and other businesses was still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vast enough that an ordinary person could never accumulate it in a lifetime. But the days when they had held the Republic of Korea in one hand and been called the “president of the night” were gone forever.

Still, the disappearance of Daehan Ilbo would not suddenly change the overall leanings of Korean media. Even now, because World Cup articles sold well, every news outlet was filling its pages exclusively with World Cup specials. News about China, Japan, and even North Korea had been pushed to the back burner. It was good that the controversy that had marred the 2002 World Cup had vanished, but seeing the media lose its collective mind was somewhat concerning.

“Brother! Who do you think will win this time?”

Yoo Bong-man turned to his elder brother.

“Why? Want to make another bet? If my little brother wants to buy a round, who am I to refuse? 1-0 victory for Korea! What about you?”

“Only 1-0? I say 2-0!”

“Italy scoring two goals?”

“Of course it’ll be Korea!”

Sports and betting seemed inseparable. From the way his father and uncle bickered, it appeared they had been placing wagers since the group stage. The stakes had grown large enough to include extended family. It was not just Yoo Jae-won’s household—similar scenes were playing out across the country.

Not just here. Probably all over the world.

Betting—and by extension gambling—held a powerful allure that drew people in. Naturally, the idea of a sports-betting platform surfaced in Yoo Jae-won’s mind. Sports Toto.

Ah, it’s only been less than a year since it launched in Korea.

He pulled out his Android Phone and searched for Sports Toto, confirming it had begun operations in 2001. Yet far more people were making informal bets with family and friends than using the official platform. In Korea, all platforms except the single government-approved operator had been made illegal, eliminating competition. Moreover, fifty percent of the stakes went straight to taxes, so even a massive win left little in hand. Most people still did not even know Sports Toto existed, but in time illegal sports betting would flourish in the shadows. The infamous “garlic-field cash drum incident” that had once sent people scrambling across garlic fields had been money hidden by an illegal Toto operator. Drums overflowing with cash had been captured on camera in vivid detail—a visual shock if there ever was one.

“Jae-won!”

While lost in thoughts of Toto, Tiffany called from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“Your uncle is asking what you’re betting on!”

“Ah, I’m obviously betting on a Korea team victory. The score will definitely be 2-1.”

Whether Jeon Jae-jun had accepted Yoo Jae-won’s advice or Coach Hiddink had stubbornly pushed forward despite external pressure, the starting lineup was one hundred percent identical to what Yoo Jae-won remembered from his previous life. That was why he could confidently bet on a 2-1 victory.

“As expected, Jae-won knows how to pick a winner!”

One of the relatives seated behind him cheered at Yoo Jae-won’s words. Apparently, that person had also bet on the same score. As the match began, the VIP box grew even noisier. Following the Red Devils’ chants accompanied by their massive card section, cries of “Fighting, Korea!” and “Fighting, Korea team!” filled the air. Yoo Jae-won set aside his thoughts about Sports Toto, wrote them down in his notebook, and immersed himself in the game.

The Korea team had once again defeated Italy, 2-1. Thanks to that, there had been no upset—and yet there had. For Yoo Jae-won personally, it was an event that had already occurred in the past, but for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Italy, who had never doubted their victory, it was a shocking result. The match had been so unpredictable that it reportedly sent a truckload of bookmakers packing their bags and leaving Las Vegas. Countless predictions had gone wrong. The shock was doubled because, until Seol Ki-hyun’s equalizer in the eighty-eighth minute, Korea had been trailing after missing a penalty. Yet those celebrating the Korean team’s performance were not only in Korea!