Every four years, there’s a month where I dedicate every fibre of my being to watching the KNT, and no, it’s not the World Cup. Sure, the World Cup is the headline act, the crown jewel of international football. But no other competition excites me as much as the Asian Cup.
For me the Asian Cup has always seemed so attainable yet equally elusive. I wait in giddy anticipation as the Asian Cup rolls around in January in the hope that we might be able to break the drought in my lifetime.
Coming into the 2024 rendition, I was the most confident I’d been since I started watching back in 2007. Yes, we all had doubts about Klinsmann but something about this current crop of players felt different. I was quietly confident in the players’ ability to make up for the manager’s shortcomings.
After all, results are determined by the 11 players on the pitch, no?
Oh how wrong I was.
Foreshadowing the Exit: Korea in the Group Stages
The first game against Bahrain was probably the only match where this team showcased what they were actually capable of.
For the majority of the match, we were dominant. There were, however, early signs of the cracks that would begin to show later in the tournament.
Lee Jaesung’s smart cutback in the 6th minute was ballooned over the bar by Cho Guesung, who would end up struggling to find his shooting boots (and even his golden helmet) for the rest of the tournament.
Hwang In-Beom had a ridiculously good game, marking his 50th appearance for Korea with a wonderfully curled effort into the top right corner for the first goal. He created time and space for the wide players, retaining possession well despite being isolated and double-teamed throughout much of the game.
Unfortunately, this would become a recurring theme in the group stages and was likely one of the reasons why he would go on to look so exhausted towards the tail end of the tournament.
Coming into the second half, Korea looked complacent and scrappy, allowing Bahrain back into the game after the defense was left scrambling.
This would also become a common theme for Korea who would go on to throw away the lead in all three group stage matches.
In this instance, however, our anxiety was put to rest, as Lee Kangin took the game by the scruff of the neck to equalise through a scrumptious finish from outside of the box.
He was instrumental in Korea’s win, netting another before threading a delicious ball into the path of Son who took the shot awkwardly before sending it just wide.
Cruelly, this would end up being the best performance of our tournament and Kangin would fail to stamp his authority on a game in the same way as teams would start to catch on to our dependence on him for creation.
For the second game of the group stage we would meet the team that would hand us our eventual downfall.
This was also where Klinsmann would begin to expose his incompetence to the point of no return. At this point, some people gave him credit for his “proactive substitutions” but in reality, he was merely making necessary amendments to his own poor team selection.
As the starting lineups were released, a collective groan could be heard on stream from Albert and Kevin who had seen the lineups while I was readying up. Leaky G, the worst player on the pitch from the previous game and Cho Guesung who had been rendered limp by the Bahraini defense were starting again.
This was also where Klinsmann’s awful squad selection became plain to see. A lack of depth was sorely evident in key positions, especially down the middle, where we had no quality alternatives for our two central midfielders.
Hwang Heechan and Kim Jinsu’s injuries also meant that Klinsmann would persist with playing Lee Jaesung outside of his best position/role despite having a near like-for-like replacement in Jeong Wooyeong on the bench.
International management is all about using your best available players in their most suitable roles and yet, it seemed like Klinsmann was married to a non-existent playstyle.
Son Heungmin was used in an oppressing role that would end up with him having the most minutes played in the entire squad, yet one of the lowest touches. Klinsmann seemed hell-bent on using Son as a fantasista-esque #10 without realising this was limiting the opportunities he would get in favourable positions (or the “Son-zone” if you will).
With Hwang Inbeom asked to support and push forward behind a gung-ho amalgamation of attacking talent in front of him, Park Yongwoo was left to the wolves and Jordan, like many teams after them, would go on to expose the gaping hole that was Korea’s midfield.
Yongwoo would remain ineffective for much of the campaign, highlighting how great the loss of Son Junho has been.
But Yongwoo isn’t the root cause.
When it comes time to play Malaysia, led by Kim Pangon (the man credited for recruiting Paulo Bento) the entire team crumbles.
Korea manages to muster up 0 goals from open play against a Malaysian side with nothing left to play for but pride. Not only do we concede 3 against them, but we need an assortment of set piece goals from Lee Kangin and Son Heungmin to bail us out.
Although much of the post-match discourse from the general public was surrounding the idea that Korea were actively trying to avoid Japan in the Ro16, Korean fans understood it for what it was. A tactical disasterclass from a clueless manager who had failed to motivate and expected to walk the game without a gameplan.
Smiling to the Semis: The Zombie-Team Keeps Our Hopes Alive
As we have chosen to ‘avoid Japan’, I’m left slightly disappointed as the Hanniljeon/Nikkansen matchup eludes us in the Ro16 and we’re drawn against Saudi Arabia.
In my pre-match ponderings with Kevin, we both agreed that the prospect of facing a Mancini-led Saudi Arabia in the first round would prove to be just as daunting of a task as facing one of the Big 4 tournament favourites.
As the lineups make their way to Socials, we surprisingly line up with a back 3 for the first time in Klinsmann’s tenure. Seol Yongwoo and Kim Taehwan provide width on the overlap as Hwang Heechan returns to the bench after his return from injury.
Starting with a back 3 was intriguing, as it was most likely adopted to reinforce the defense and compensate for a lack of defensive midfield presence against a press-happy Saudi side. However, the first half proved to be painful to watch as Korea remained ineffective on the counter throughout and seemed unable to retain possession against a scintillating Saudi press.
As I pulled my fingernails away from my mouth at half time, I thought to myself that for the first time in the tournament, the tactical structure seemed to be proving effective. Sure our attack was ineffective, but the point of the back three was to sit back and tire out the Saudis.
That was until the very next minute when Abdullah Radif came on to send the Saudi Arabian fans into raptures.
Surprisingly, however, Klinsmann made some effective tactical and personnel changes. The return of Hwang Heechan’s physical presence, coupled with his direct style proved to be a turning point in the second half as the Saudi Arabian defense started to become visibly sluggish due to the high demands of Mancini’s playstyle.
As Cho Guesung came off the bench to finally hit the ground running during the dying moments of added time and we toiled our way to penalties, I was quietly confident in the team’s ability to see it through despite suggestions that we would struggle.
Lo and behold, it felt like I had been taken through a time machine back to 2018. Two monumental saves from Saint Jo and confidently dispatched spot kicks from all of our players had me screaming from the top of my lungs at 5 in the morning.
As I held my hands in disbelief, it seemed as though Klinsmann had finally got it right.
There wasn’t too much to fault about the performance against Saudi Arabia overall.
Although there was a hint of good fortune about it, I felt like we had carried out a game plan successfully for the first time in the tournament.
We had set up in a structured defensive shape to nullify Saudi Arabia’s biggest threats and once we went behind, sensible changes were made to overcome the deficit. Looking back on the Asian Cup run, I would say that this was the moment that had allowed us to start dreaming again.
Then came the next game against Australia. As much of an idiot as Graham Arnold is, I knew this would still prove to be a stern test.
Despite Australia coming into the tournament with one of their worst sides in recent memory, they still possessed two of Korea’s biggest kryptonites - a 2m tall centre half and physicality through the middle.
Set pieces will be our downfall - is what I thought to myself coming into the game. And yet, just like the game against Malaysia, we end up scraping our way through thanks to set pieces.
Australia’s first goal, however, retells a story we were all familiar with by this point. Defensive communication, or lack thereof, ends up gifting Goodwin a goal just before half-time.
As Kim Taehwan makes his way towards Mitchell Duke (Australia’s worst striker who is being covered by one of the best centre backs in Europe), he leaves acres of space at the back post for his opposition number to run into.
Taehwan isn’t solely to blame in this scenario, take a look at Park Yongwoo who’s left gawking at the cross coming in.
Or the positional disasterclasses of Kim Younggwon and Seol Youngwoo in the moments leading up to the cross that opens up an easy path for Metcalfe to find the overlapping Atkinson.
These two pictures are a mere fraction of how disorganised and disjointed the defense looked throughout the tournament.
Cometh the hour, cometh the man. Luckily for us, individual brilliance from Son shone through this game.
Hwang Heechan converted a penalty won by Son to equalise at the death yet again and then during the first half of extra time it happened.
Son curls a delightful freekick away from Ryan’s reach to score the goal of the tournament and send Korea to the Semi Finals of the Asian Cup.
If anything, the dramatic finishes to these knockout games highlighted a reality none of us were willing to accept quite just yet.
We were not good enough as a team and we barely scraped by via the sheer willpower and desperation of our best players.
A Second Chance: The Redemption Opportunity
A second encounter in an international tournament against a weaker side on paper is a gift. You are given ample information from the previous encounter to ensure you are better prepared the second time around.
Jordan did just that.
Klinsmann, on the other hand, had not done his homework. Supported by a handpicked team of 35 analysts, coaches and scouts (the largest staff numbers Korea has ever taken to a tournament), it seemed like Jurgen had learnt very little from the last outing against Jordan. In fact, we had taken a backward step.
It is hard to summarise such an abysmal performance without snapping a vein in my neck, but I shall try nonetheless.
0 shots on target in a tournament semi-final with 70% possession. Hitting the woodwork off a Lee Jaesung header early on was the closest we came to even a sniff at goal.
This match was merely a boiling point for all of the issues that had become clear for Korea as the tournament went on.
A lack of ideas in possession, a lack of defensive structure and focus, a lack of replacements for players who were clearly on their last legs.
These aren’t statements to discredit Jordan’s achievements. They were clearly the better side who carried out a clear game plan from start to finish.
But we were atrocious and miles from our best.
Looking Beyond Bias and at the Performance
So what really went wrong for Korea?
Before I began writing this last section, news broke that Jurgen Klinsmann had (unsurprisingly) been sacked. But perhaps surprising, is his dogmatic belief that he had done a good job.
“With not losing 13 games in a row!” he proudly trumpets in his closing statement. Perhaps that is the most poetic way to describe the way we played under his tenure.
The team was not set up to win, but rather, to ‘not lose’.
Now perhaps it is a little unfair to use non-per90 stats when talking about goals scored and conceded considering the fact that Korea made it to the latter stages of the tournament. But I believe this visualisation is a perfect representation of how Korea was during this tournament. Bang-average.
In fact, the only time Korea looked remotely structured in defense was when we lined up with a 3 at the back against Saudi Arabia.
From the above section, you may think that I was trying to highlight individual errors as the root cause for our defensive woes. The two goals we conceded against Jordan in the Semis were also down to individual mistakes right?
In reality, I believe the opposite to be true. This Korean side was unable to conjure a single comprehensive team performance throughout this cup run.
Looking at our defensive performance by the numbers reflects this same story. When we look solely at the percentiles for tackles won and interceptions, you would be forgiven for thinking we were structurally sound.
But when we consider that we conceded the most Group Stage goals in close to 30 years and 3 of them came against Malaysia (with all due-respect), it’s clear we were atrocious defensively. However, if you look a little deeper you can see that the reason we lead the tournament in these statistics are due to the individual brilliance of some of our players.
Kim Minjae is the only Korean player among the top end for interceptions, whilst the same is true for Hwang Inbeom and Lee Jaesung for tackles won.
To me, the fact that we are one of the tournament leaders in errors leading to shots doesn’t mean that the quality of our players are subpar. It means that these players are being put in unfavourable roles or positions that our opponents are leveraging to their advantage. It highlights tactical ineptitude and a failure to utilise the strengths of our players correctly.
Hwang Inbeom is not Luka Modric. Even so, players like them require ample support to facilitate their ability to create, dictate tempo and retain possession. Placing one of the worst Korean DMs in recent memory alongside him and asking him to do the work of an entire three man midfield is not utilising his strengths.
Placing Kim Minjae in a dysfunctional backline and asking him to play as a stopper to prevent opponents outnumbering and getting in behind our midfield whilst providing inadequate defensive cover is not utilising his strengths.
Enough about the defense though, surely we can take solace in our attacking performance right?
Well, despite what the headline statistics may suggest, digging deeper suggests some worrying trends in attack as well. Consider the fact that Korea had no shots on goal in the first half vs Australia and no shots on goal altogether vs Jordan and you start to realise how flattering the numbers really are.
On top of this, observing our numbers for goals per shot and goals per shot on target also indicates how inefficient our offensive performance was.
Cho Guesung led the tournament for big chances missed (5) whilst only taking 10 shots. That means half the shots taken by our starting number 9 were crucial misses.
Again I’m not here to scrutinise and single out the players. It is the manager's job to adjust and motivate the team when things aren’t working.
Jurgen told the media that Cho was his undisputed starting striker going into the competition and persisted with his choice even when it was clear it wasn’t working out.
We were outscored by Japan and Iraq, both of whom exited the tournament at an earlier stage.
Yes, we were still somewhat potent in attack, but not from open play. We narrowly avoided defeat against Australia and Malaysia thanks to goals exclusively from set pieces. Korea led the tournament in free kick goals and were second only to Jordan for goals from outside the box.
Our attack wasn’t good. Son Heungmin and Lee Kangin were.
To what extent is a team’s attacking efficiency really influenced by the tactics? Well sure it’s the players themselves that miss the open goals and cannon their shots off the woodwork.
But at the end of the day, the quality and volume of chances created are down to the tactics. So too is the striker at the end of those chances. No other team in the competition was as reliant on one player to create quality looks like Korea were.
I begrudgingly believe this team played out the tournament and lived up to the expectations, or dare I say, they overachieved.
Because we all knew how Jurgenball would play out. The only ones who didn’t were the idiots who hired him in the first place.
The headlines for the next Asian Cup write themselves.
Can South Korea Overcome a 67 Year Drought at the 2027 Asian Cup?
This time, however, I’ll know the answer is no.
Not unless something changes at the very top.
What an insightful read, that honestly had everything from storytelling to analysis. You captured the general feeling to a tee. Felt exactly the same at the beginning, quietly confident. Only to end up miserable…