No matter how South Korea performs at the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, they will be talking about the night of 18 June this year for a very long time.
It was 90 minutes of soccer that bounced between shambolic and euphoric, and somehow ended with confirmation that South Korea will compete at their ninth finals next year.
The picture was very clear for the Taegeuk Warriors: avoid defeat at home to Iran and guarantee your participation at the World Cup. Failing that, hope Uzbekistan – a team to watch out for in the future – don’t beat Qatar by at least five goals in Tashkent.
With the games in Ulsan and Tashkent kicking off simultaneously, TV companies were able to beam images from across the continent to convey a sense of tension, but the reality is that many saw the evening as the ultimate foregone conclusion.
South Korea versus Iran has all the hallmarks of a modern-day grudge match. The reverse fixture in Tehran was won by the home side 1-0, but South Korea had vociferously lambasted the treatment handed down to them in Tehran, from the host officials to the training pitches.
The inevitable war of words in the build-up to the return leg promoted South Korea’s German-based striker Son Heung-min to declare he would make Iran’s captain Javad Nekounam shed “tears of blood”. Son continued by claiming Nekounam “is known for talking too much. We will beat them by three or four goals.”
The Reds’ interim coach, Choi Kang-hee also promised to “make life painful” for the visitors, and bullishly predicted he would “defeat Iran no matter what. Coach [Carlos] Querioz will be watching the Brazil World Cup on TV.”
Querioz, a former Manchester United assistant manager, retorted by saying Choi had “embarrassed the Iranian people”.
Approaching half time, South Korea were sitting remarkably comfortably at 0-0. They effectively owned the ball, creating all the game’s best chances, and despite continually fluffing their lines, any pre-match tension had been lifted by the news that Qatar had taken an unlikely lead in Uzbekistan.
What transpired after the interval will haunt the current national squad for the rest of their careers. Kim Young-gwan was pick-pocketed by Reza Ghoochannejhad, who bore down on Jung Sung-ryeong’s goal and beautifully dispatched the ball into the bottom right-hand corner, igniting chaotic scenes inside the rain-soaked Munsu Stadium.
With half an hour to play, South Korea were visibly shell-shocked and lost all direction and composure. All the while, news was filtering in from Tashkent that Uzbekistan had equalised. Suddenly it was 2-1, then 3-1 – and the walls started to cave in.
The home side wasted chance after chance; Iranian goalkeeper Rahman Ahmadi made one marvellous save that inspired an epic goal mouth scramble. And then the news got worse from Uzbekistan. South Korea’s rivals had scored a fourth, then a fifth, with time remaining. How on earth did they find themselves in this position? Another Iranian goal on the break would be the end for South Korea, as would an Uzbeki sixth.
In the dying minutes, they wasted another glorious opportunity. And that was that. The game was over. But when confirmation came through that Uzbekistan had fallen a goal short, South Korea’s players drew breath again.
Iran had already taken immense joy from this unlikely victory. When the final whistle blew, Querioz immediately leapt towards the South Korean bench, fists clenched. His players goaded the local crowd on the field. And as the drenched supporters exited, several K-Pop groups appeared on the pitch, adding to the confused nature of the evening.
South Korea were left humiliated by Iran, but after narrowly avoiding soccer Armageddon, their redemption can come next summer.
Andrew Farrell works as an English language teacher in Korea.
