88 - Soccer Frenzy, Utter Chaos
Touching down at Incheon International Airport, I headed straight to Daeyang Group headquarters without a moment's rest.
"Hm?"
As I entered the building and made my way to the chairman's office, one large framed photo caught my eye. It was Blackburn Rovers—me hoisting the UEFA Cup trophy, drenched in champagne and camera flashes.
"Why's that in front of the chairman's office?"
"The chairman specifically ordered it enlarged and framed like this," the chief secretary replied.
I couldn't help but chuckle. The old man who'd grumbled about soccer fans and whether kicking a ball really made money had hung a massive photo of his daughter-in-law's soccer trophy right outside his office.
I knocked and stepped inside. My father rose from his seat.
"Chairman, I'm here."
"Ah, there you are? Mr. Soccer Chairman!"
"Soccer chairman?"
"Word is you're the chairman of that Black...burn team or whatever? Just like your old man, getting called chairman. Haha!"
The atmosphere had definitely shifted. We settled on the office sofa, and coffee arrived via the secretary. An ashtray, cigarettes, and a gold lighter were set before Father.
He lit up, puffed away, then spoke.
"Profits were disappointing after that UEFA Cup, but sales were through the roof."
"That's marketing for you."
"I get it now—get people hooked on the ball game, slip in the ads, and it works wonders."
Father stubbed out his cigarette and got to the point.
"With the World Cup six or seven months out, you're taking charge of overall marketing."
"Me, handling everything?"
"Next season's entire company revenue streams—you're owning them."
"This could mean marketing investments dwarfing the UEFA Cup win."
"As long as it boosts sales and profits that much."
Father was going all-in. Proposing I handle it all, sidelining my brother at HQ and the execs. He'd laid the table—time to feast.
"Dae-hyun, you know why I'm handing it all to you instead of Dae-chul?"
"Because I'm better?"
"Too many pests buzzing about that soccer of yours."
"Whatever nonsense from national team coach picks—newspapers just chasing sales. No need to sweat it."
"Nah, not that."
"?"
Father lit another cigarette.
"Those deadbeats and self-proclaimed experts yapping on every broadcast."
"They need the airtime to get their names out there and grab public attention."
"Think who's backing them?"
"Guys like that have backers?"
Father opened a drawer by the sofa, pulling out a few photos and a scrap file of newspaper clippings.
Korean Soccer Can't Be Left Solely to Hyun Kyung Clan. Bold Ambitions from Former KFA Vice President Ha Seung-hyo.
"Ha Seung-hyo from LZ Group."
Soccer Dominated by Hyun Kyung and Manipulated by Daeyang—Big Corps Must Step Aside for Soccer People. 'A Sharp Word from Commentator Shin Yoon-seon.'
Did I really need to tangle with these flies? But Father had collected them all, signaling me to handle it.
"We're prepping a big deal with Hyun Kyung, but too many interlopers. On the surface it's soccer, but really it's a power grab for FIFA main sponsorship, KFA, and Korean Sports Council rights post-World Cup."
"Yeah, looks that way."
"No different from politicians—or hell, maybe this is politics."
"Looks like I've got plenty to sort out this trip."
I pocketed the list Father had prepared and stood to get to work.
"Dae-hyun, thanks to you, we're breaking into international sports."
"It'll happen. Global business, soccer diplomacy, and management."
"Go make it count."
"Of course."
Things were about to get insanely busy in Korea.
A short while later.
I linked up with the KFA and arranged a private dinner with President Jang Jun-mo. His penthouse in Paju overlooked the training center he'd built for that first World Cup win.
"Welcome. Tough trek out to Paju."
"Nah. Scouted some prime land on the way—secured plenty of sites for personal real estate investments."
"…."
"And donated a top spot for a soccer center with physical therapy facilities."
President Jang chuckled and poured the wine. Twenty years my senior, the refined gentleman from chaebol stock deserved respect—no need to push the teasing.
"Nice bouquet. Different from European stuff—what brand?"
"Not sure on the brand. Tried it in California, loved it, so I had tons shipped. Personal stash."
Maybe I should do the same. Perfect for parties.
Over wine, Hanwoo steak, and a lavish spread, Jang cut to the chase.
"New year, national team heads to the US for Gold Cup invite from CONCACAF."
"Hope for good results."
"Not the end. Friendlies in South America in February, Europe in March."
"Give 'em what they want, right?"
"Results worry me."
President Jang, who'd poured unprecedented funds into A-matches—every support imaginable. But his expression showed the agony of lacking results.
"France 0-5, Czech 0-5. Growing pains, I thought. Like Vice President Lee's airport line: 'Korean soccer's just ditched the training wheels and started pedaling.'"
"You've backed us this far—no cold feet with six months left."
"Time's short; that's the pressure."
I sipped my wine and addressed his unease.
"I'll help. They say sharing the beating halves the pain. Hate the beating part, but Daeyang's got your back as KFA support."
"!"
Time to drop some Daeyang family intel.
"Mentioned scouting Paju land? Actually, coordinating with Kyungkuk University Foundation for an 800-1,000 bed general hospital site."
"Kyungkuk University Foundation... Ah, heard you were tight with Chairman Kim's family. Makes sense."
"Not just a university hospital—building a physical therapy rehab center next door for a pro sports rehab medicine hub. Kyungkuk Med School and Daeyang Group joint project. I'll import massive medical gear from Europe."
"!"
"We're not tossing money into the soccer void. Leaving visible infrastructure—and results beyond that."
Jang's eyes widened in shock. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped cold sweat, and smiled.
"Th-that's... Daeyang sports rehab center next to Paju training facility."
"Even before I bought my European club, Germany and Italy ran in-house labs, rehab centers, scientific approaches. We catch up starting now."
"Spot on."
"Hell, our guys dodge hospitals for old folks' acupuncture or moxa—sticking that on real athletes, plus Japanese chiropractic and electrotherapy, then writing sports med papers. And get this—it's from the UK."
"The UK treats soccer players with traditional Korean medicine?"
"Bolton University paper. Author: Sam Allardyce, current Bolton manager. I'll get you a copy."
Point is, soccer "advanced" nations from Europe to South America try everything for results. Our investments? Peanuts compared.
"Vice President Lee, hearing this from you eases my mind."
"No need suffering solo. Korean soccer's not just Hyun Kyung's fight."
We clinked glasses, downed the wine, and I told Jang:
"Mr. President, I want to be the next KFA chairman."
"!?"
"Of course, if World Cup goes well, you re-up. I'm thinking next generation."
At 29, I could grab it now, but backlash would be fierce. Let Jang do ten years, then I take over—rebuild KFA proper, beyond Blackburn.
"Been thinking this since before: you handle massive deals so simply."
"In tough spots, go bold—backtalk comes, but no one dares upfront."
"Vice President, since my late father's era, we've prided ourselves on building Korean soccer. That's why my brother bought Jeonju team, and we tried pulling in a Hyun Kyung Industries cousin for soccer admin after me."
Ugh, that horrific original history flashed—nightmare averted.
"KFA cycles: politicians/corps re-elect, soccer guy interim single term, new corp guy elected then re-elected."
"So your successor interim soccer man, then me?"
"You'll be around forty then. Can you wait?"
Right after South Africa World Cup—no Brazil/Russia debacles.
The night deepened meaningfully, discussing KFA succession.
And Alice and I rang in 2002 in Korea.
2002—World Cup year. But New Year's brought a string of awful news.
"Korean soccer's in total chaos. American style crushed 'em."
Alice rolled on the bed with her laptop, handing it over.
CONCACAF Gold Cup: 1-2 Loss to USA, Crumbled by Landon Donovan.
Cuba Match: Empty Possession, Limp 0-0 Draw.
CONCACAF Gold Cup Mexico: Nail-Biter Penalty Shootout Win, Striker Woes Persist?
Pasadena Disaster: Korea Routed 1-3 by Costa Rica in Gold Cup.
Kim Do-yoon Own Goal, Korea Falls 1-2 to Canada.
I'd watched some live, but anyone could see: not results for a team jetting off on massive expense A-matches.
"Tch, these growing pains drag on in real time."
"Movement's sharp, but no goals—manager's fuming solo."
'Like Ferguson's this season...'
She mumbled something at the end—let it slide.
RRRR-RRRR—
Phone rang. International call—not England, the US.
"Hello, who's this?"
"Mr. Lee, it's Guus."
"…Hiddink?"
Call from Hiddink right after Gold Cup ended.