How a Football Coach Influenced a Culture

On a warm Autumn's day after wandering aimlessly around Seoul Forest taking pictures, I decided to have a cup of coffee before heading home. I entered one of the many cafes just before the sun started to set and was greeted with a warm smile from the guy behind the counter. He was not much older than me and had those thick dark framed glasses that every Korean guy seems to have. When I ordered my coffee in Korean the guy saw that as an opportunity to strike up a conversation with me. After I answered his question about where I was from, he said: “Nederlandu? Ahh, Eindhoven!” At that moment I could not exactly place why he didn’t mention Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague, or even Utrecht, but he gave me the answer himself soon after: "PSV Eindhoven! I like Hiddinguuu!" I half tried to change the subject by saying that I came from a city near Amsterdam and support Ajax, but the harm had already been done. He ignored what I just said and went on about Hiddink. "Yes, Hiddingu" I replied eventually, accepting my defeat.

Yes, Guus Hiddink. The Dutch coach of the South Korean national team who was so successful at the World Cup of 2002 in Japan and South Korea by leading his team all the way to the semifinal and beating some top teams along the way. The success story of the Korean national football team at the 2002 World Cup is well known and documented. Just say "Italy" in South Korea and many Koreans become teary eyed and talk about the best victory in their football history. Hiddink is the cultural link between my country and South Korea, more so than Hendrick Hamel, who shipwrecked on Jeju island during the Joseon period (although they are both represented at the Dutch museum on Jeju island). Through the success of Hiddink, the Dutch became familiar with the Koreans and vice versa. Before that World Cup, I wasn't really interested in Korea. Sure, I knew about the war between the North and the South, my father drove around in a Hyundai Lantra, and we had an LG DVD player, but that was about it.  However, that would change that summer. Unable to qualify for the World Cup ourselves for the first time in 16 years, which was a tragedy all in itself (Jason McAteer, the bastard), the only Dutch link to the World Cup we had was Guus Hiddink, the coach of South Korea. So without a team of our own, the Dutch media focused on him.

I remember there was much sympathy for the South Korean team in the Netherlands. The passionate support of the Korean fans, dressed in red with all kinds of attributes, was similar to our own way of supporting our national team. We learned about the Korean fans cleaning up their own mess after supporting their team, which amazed the Dutch and started a discussion about our own short comings, because we always leave a huge mess after a game. The way South Korea played (attractive attacking football) captured the hearts of many Dutch people because of the similarity in style with our own national team.  However, nobody (the South Koreans included) had any expectations at the time, because South Korea never won a game at previous World Cups and had been beaten by the Dutch team several times with a big goal margin. Also, in their preparation for the World Cup, they had lost two games with a 5-0 margin and Hiddink had been blamed for that, earning him the nickname “Five Versus Zero” in South Korea. The Korean press was extremely negative and asked for his resignation many times; asking themselves why they needed another foreigner, that didn't understand Korean culture, in charge of their national team. To say it was a surprise to see South Korea progressing all the way to the semi-final and Hiddink becoming South Korea's national hero is an understatement. It was nothing short of amazing, although they also had a little luck on their way with favorable decisions by the referees. All in all it was one of the best World Cups I have ever seen and our own team didn't even play (although that’s not entirely true for me because Turkey played and reached the semis as well).

[caption id="attachment_3563" align="aligncenter" width="533"] Still a hero in South Korea after 12 years.[/caption]

So how did Hiddink become so successful with a team, which had never won a single match on a World Cup? To find that answer we must first see how the Korean national team was organized before Hiddink took over. Korean culture is very suitable in many situations, but sadly running a professional football team isn't one of them. The not-question-your-boss and don't-take-any-risks-mentality and seniority-rules-over-all-culture kills competition in sports. Longstanding personal, familial, and school connections were factors in being selected for the national team and a head coach couldn't ignore them. Older players had more privilege than younger ones (younger players even had to polish the shoes of their seniors) and often didn't have to fear for their place in the team. Such a power imbalance isn't healthy in a professional sports environment. In addition, the risk of losing in the preparation to the World Cup, and an early exit for the head coach, was being avoided by playing generally weaker teams, so it would appear that the Korean team was ready to play at the World Cup. Korean culture was a hindrance in starting with the best eleven and a leading cause in the poor performance of the Korean national team in every World Cup before 2002.

When Hiddink took over, he had asked and received plenary powers in operating the national team, including the selection of players, strategies, training, and support. He basically had complete control. The first thing Hiddink did was demanding domestic professional football teams to give up their top players to the national team for 18 months to prepare for the World Cup. He then did away with the risk avoidance; playing strong teams so his side would get used to the resistance they would experience at a World Cup (hence the 5-0 losses against France and the Czech Republic). Then he cut everybody out that didn't agree to his way of working (that included coaching staff as well as players). Hiddink completely abolished traditional selection policies linked to personal, family, education, and social class affiliations within Korean society. He replaced some of the older players with talented youngsters and the older players that were left he convinced of his way of working. He told older players that they had to respect the younger players and not use their authority against them. He mixed older and young players at the dining tables (a practice that wasn't common before). All these measures were taken to break the Korean culture within the team. He didn't abolishing Korean culture completely though, but made use of elements that would give him an edge to improve the team. For instance, he made use of how bosses are never questioned by subordinates brilliantly. In matches during training, where Hiddink refereed, he made mistakes on purpose and asked his players if he was correct. Their culture prevented the players from responding honestly, but he saw in their eyes that they thought he was wrong. So he raised his voice and repeated if they felt they were wronged until they finally responded, and then told them they should put that feeling and energy in their football. This is how he fired up his players. He also did things that Korean coaches could never do, for example asking the president if his players would be exempted from military service so they could make a career as a professional football player (which the president arranged for them), all to get the players so fired up that they would do anything to win.

Hiddink’s method became a model for success in South Korea that was picked up not only by other coaches and other sport organizations, but also by a wide range of businesses. Many books about his methods became bestsellers in South Korea. It was seen as a potential way of advancing Korea’s global interests in all fields, including sport, politics, science, education, the economy, and citizenship. The fact that Hiddink, a foreigner, was able to challenge the authorities and even operate outside traditional cultural protocols signaled that Korean society was changing. It was called the Hiddink syndrome and has affected many aspects of Korean society.  Since going through the International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) financial crisis in the late 1990s, Korea's society became more open due to government policy, but Hiddink, being the first foreigner awarded honorary national citizenship and the law even being changed for that, had an even bigger impact in accepting foreigners in Korean society. Public calls for him to be naturalized as a Korean citizen and the eventual introduction of special government legislation to award him honorary citizenship were unprecedented. It lead to awareness, discussion, and debate about the historically homogenous nature of Korea’s exclusive citizenship, particularly with respect to race and ethnicity.

However, that doesn't mean that Korean society is suddenly very different after Hiddink's success. Sure, it's easier for a foreigner to get a visa and even attain citizenship, but South Korea is still a long way from being a multi cultural nation. In spite of all those copies of Hiddink's method sold, Korean society is still very much top down and young people's voices are still often ignored. The effect that Hiddink's success had in the years after the 2002 World Cup has stagnated somewhat, when looking at election results, corruption scandals, and workplace culture of the past couple of years (the conservative party has won the presidency at parliamentary elections twice in a row). Rather, the success of Hiddink signals a particular point where the nation may have become more open to alternative ways of thinking about its past, present, and future with respect to citizenship and identity. However, I don't think another stint of Hiddink taking charge of the national team will help South Korea forward again. Everything has its own time and place. For South Korean society to go forward again South Koreans need to change society themselves and, as in any other nation on this planet, that is a slow and difficult process.

 

Sources used:

• Nammi Lee, Steven J. Jackson, and Keunmo Lee, "South Korea’s “Glocal” Hero: The Hiddink Syndrome and the Rearticulation of National Citizenship and Identity," Sociology of Sport Journal, 2007, 24, 283-301 http://users.polisci.wisc.edu/schatzberg/ps616/Lee2007.pdf


• Wat HR-managers kunnen leren van voetbaltrainers (Dutch: What HR managers can learn from football coaches), http://www.timing.nl/9572953/Wat-HR-managers-van-voetbaltrainers-kunnen-leren.html


• Coen Verbraak, "Guus Hiddink 'Ik heb mijn macht nooit misbruikt' (Dutch: Guus Hiddink 'I have never abused my power')," VN 03-05- 2003, http://www.coenverbraak.nl/hiddink.htm


• De Bewustzijnsfabriek, Hiddink-methode: kijk en luister! (Dutch: The Hiddink method: watch and listen!), http://www.debewustzijnsfabriek.nl/inspiratie-1016/de-hiddinkmethode-17

2014 Asian Games - Was it Worth it?

What the hell are the Asian Games? I, myself, had no idea the Asiad existed at all until I went to cover the games in Incheon this past month.

The name is self-explanatory. The Asian Games are a set of events held throughout and between Asian countries every four years.
The Asian Games are very much like the Olympics, except on a more regional-based level. There are over 44 events such as soccer, fencing, archery, swimming, decathlon, triathlon, and any other “-athon”.
The 17^th Asian Games were held in Incheon, South Korea this year. I was fortunate enough to be part of the Asian Games News Service, and as a reporter for the organization, I had access to all the events.
The games and events were fun to watch, but there were more than just enjoying the games. More than the sporting events themselves, I saw a lot of problems with the entire Asiad and its infrastructures.

 

1. 
   

   No one shows up to watch

   
   There were 36 different sporting events this year, and of course some events might not be popular. I covered basketball and boxing, and both events seem exciting and fun. However, there were barely any spectators for the games. The stadiums were emptier than an abandoned warehouse. Unless the event was in its finals, people didn't want to pay much money to come watch.
   
   [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="502"] "Where did everyone go?"[/caption]
   
   There are a few dedicated fans that come to support their teams, like the Filipinos who cheered on for their basketball team.
   I was sorely disappointed at the lack of turnout for the events such as boxing. For a grueling ten days, I watched over 200 individual boxing matches, and each day, the seats throughout the gymnasium sat empty.


2. 
   

   Game officials are biased

   
   If the system can be cheated, it will. I watched basketball, handball, soccer, and boxing games in person. Without fail, the referees or judges would favor the South Korean team or athlete.
   The women’s lightweight boxing finals between India’s Sarita Devi and South Korea’s Park Jina stirred up quite the controversy. Anybody who watched that fight would have no doubt that Devi won the fight. The decision to give the victory to Park did not sit well with everyone (especially the Indian nationals) except the Korean spectators. The controversial decision is still under official investigation and the topic is still hot among boxing aficionados and fans around the world. Yet, I saw more unfair rulings on the field in other events like soccer and basketball.
   
   [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="456"] Men's basketball: South Korea vs. Iran[/caption]
   
   The men’s basketball finals between S. Korea and Iran was truly an exciting game. Never for a minute did either team take a big enough lead to assume they would emerge victorious. With 16 seconds left in the game, Korea was barely leading 76-75. Iran would have no choice but to foul to stop the clock from ticking down, and Korea managed three more points at the free throw line. With eight seconds left, Iran was trailing 77-79. However, in their last drive to score one more basket, they were fouled numerous times by the Korean players, but the referee failed to blow his whistle and simply let the clock expire. I saw similar favoritism on the soccer field as well, but I won’t get into that. I’m sure I painted fairly detailed accounts of favoritism for Korean athletes. It wasn’t simply the game officials that had a hand in creating a substantial Asian Games.
   [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJGYPS6xVxM]


3. 
   

   It’s not well-organized

   
   In the first few days of the Asian Games, over 100 Korean interpreters simply left. That accounted for over a third of the interpreters available, and some of them were essential because they could speak Arabic, Russian, Chinese, and a few other languages that would have proven useful on the field. They left because they were told one thing, but found to their dismay that the organizers could not deliver on their promises. The interpreters were promised lucrative pay, decent housing, and good working conditions.
   
   [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500"] The only time they were smiling[/caption]
   
   However, when they began their jobs interpreting, they had to work around the clock, being a lackey to the different foreigners that came to speculate and participate. They were told they would be working an eight-hour work schedule, but instead, they had to work more than 12 hours at a time.
   Their pay was much lower than what they were told, and at one point, they were served lunch with stale rice, old dainty meat, and foul-smelling vegetables.
   
   [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="459"] Okay, maybe it wasn't this bad, but it was still unedible.[/caption]
   
   Without them, it was hard for reporters who didn’t speak Arabic or Mongolian like me to conduct interviews. I scrambled and fought my way through other reporters to get a quote from an athlete, but my efforts to reach him or her would be useless as the athletes simply stared at me and kept saying, “No English.”
   
   [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500"] "No English"[/caption]
   
   Overall, South Korea did not have the budget to host such a huge international event, which is why many of the volunteers or workers had a hell of a tough time working throughout the Games. However, it wasn’t completely bad because…


4. 
   

   It’s a great way to meet new people

   
   Although I mentioned above that not many people come to watch the sporting events, there are foreign medias that come from different parts of Asia to broadcast and write about the Games.
   Many of the reporters didn’t speak English, but we all managed to break through this language barrier and communicated effectively.
   Reporters from Jordan were especially friendly. They sat next to us during the boxing matches, and they always had a smile on their face. I sat watching many other people from places such as India, the Philippines, and other Asian nations come to watch and support their respective national athletes play. Through the spirit of competition, many other people along with myself, formed new bonds and contacts with people we never thought we would ever meet. I even had the chance to meet and interview the prince of Qatar. That’s a chance I would never have been given had I not been present at the Games.

There were a lot of issues with the 2014 Incheon Asian Games. However, despite all its flaws, it was an opportunity to bring people of many different cultures into one location. There was a Food Festival that showed off the delectable dishes from countries like Kazakhstan, Sri Lanka, and Thailand. I had the chance to interview some of the head chefs, and the Kazakhstani chef wanted to prepare horse meat, which is the main source of meat in his homeland.

It was a pity he couldn’t find horse meat in Korea because from the fragrances of smoked lamb in his kitchen made all who smelled it salivate. It wasn’t only the Korean spectators that had the chance to mingle with different cultures. People from China were able to shake hands, take pictures and talk with people from Turkmenistan, and the same held true for most of the other different-cultured people.
As long as people are able to have the opportunity to open new lines of communication with other people, then the problems of the Asian Games may be a price we are willing to pay.

Soccer + Tennis = What? Korea's Insane National Sport

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTS0_zBUO5s

I have to admit that when I was asked to write an article about a Korean game called jokgu (족구/足球), I was a bit less than enthused. Vague images of hanbok-clad adolescents playing yutnori (윳노리) against their will on Lunar New Year’s Day (설날) drifting through my thoroughly uninterested brain, I reasoned (badly) that that it was probably just some game with sticks and tiles played by crowds of smoking ajusshi on Sunday afternoons in the park.

“It’s a cross between soccer and tennis,” our videographer informed me, as though that somehow made it exciting. Instead, I was just perplexed. How could hitting soccer balls with tennis rackets be fun?

“It was developed in the military," a close friend, who goes by the name of Wikipedia, added. Ah, yes. Cue the tobacco-scented ajusshi. I was getting nowhere.

Desperate, I turned to YouTube for some visual prompting. And my world screeched to a halt as I found myself watching clips that looked like a Shaolin Soccer remake directed by Michael Bay on a boxed gift set of Bacchus. A bunch of well-muscled guys leaping around a tennis court, Chuck Norrising the daylights out of a hapless soccer ball at speeds that would give any introductory student of Lorentz transformations a headache. Sending it off the shin as a straight volley into an opponent’s chest. Tearing across the full length of the court to leap valiantly through the air and defend from the forehead. Twisting around last-second to roundhouse from a teammate’s lob. Roundhouse. As I sat there, mouth agape, slouched in my own inadequacy and a little bit of drool, my sobbing mind’s eye slowly focused onto a single question: Why did I not know about this before?

Why did our Korean textbooks at the Yonsei KLI spend chapters brainwashing its students with useless ideas like “traditional Korean cuisine is very complicated to make” instead of “Koreans dreamed up a sport that makes ice hockey look like it was invented by your grandmother”? Why do a large contingent of Seoul’s more active expats spend cozy weekends prancing around old soccer fields with Discrafts instead of kicking each other in the face with a nine-inch plastic ball like real athletes? Why did millions of people gather round their television sets last weekend to get drunk around clips of padded men wrestling clumsily for a giant squishy almond instead of fire-eyed athletic warriors turning speed aerials around a far more reasonably shaped toy?

I don’t know. But I do know that this issue must be rectified. So watch our video and weep with inspiration. Then brush up with our simple starter set of jokgu rules:

1. The game is played on a tennis court (6.5 meters x15 meters), with 3 meters at both ends for serving. The net height is to be set at 1.05 meters.


2. Each team has four players on the court at any one time. Teams may have up to three additional players plus a team director on the bench. The team director may not enter the court.


3. Positions and rotation schedules are determined by the team’s own strategy.


4. The object of the game is, like volleyball, to send the ball to the floor of the opponent’s court.


5. Each play begins with a serve. The same team may serve continuously until the other team wins a point.


6. Three touches allowed per side before the ball must be sent to the opponent.


7. The best part: The ball may be contacted with only the feet, shins, or head. Hopefully your own.


8. Games are played to 15 points each; 3 games to a match. The first team to two wins is victorious. [1]

Finally, grab some friends and go out to kick some balls. Just make sure they’re the right ones.