In the KFA's kingdom, only the nobles thrive. A revolution may be the only solution.

Some say Korean society is built on the so-called 1987 system, a reference to a social, economic and cultural reshaping as the country democratized in June of that year.

For Korean football, that year would be 1986.

That summer, the country qualified for the World Cup for the first time in 32 years, since the 1954 tournament in Switzerland.

The watershed moment was born out of World Cup disappointment, with Korea failing to qualify for the 1982 tournament as Kuwait claimed the sole Asian Football Confederation berth. Coming to terms with the fact that amateur football would never catch up to the rest of the world, Korea decided the only solution was a professional league.

And thus the K League was launched in 1983. Major companies such as Daewoo and Pohang Iron & Steel Company — now known as Posco — poured in resources and engaged in bidding wars for players. The companies were more interested in seeing their players perform for the national team than in winning league titles or developing the game in the community.

That priority stood in stark contrast to Japan's J League, which was launched under a long-term vision of building community-based clubs under the broad goal of creating "a happier country through sports."

"The Gyeongbu Expressway was built in a hurry, and repair work had to begin from the day it opened," said a veteran figure in football. "Korean professional football was the same."

“But just as the Gyeongbu Expressway became a foundation of Korea’s economy, the K League became a driving force for Korean football’s development as we fixed it along the way.”

The push paid off, more or less, as the Taeguk Warriors went on to qualify for 11 straight World Cups since winning a spot in the 1986 tournament.

But that momentum appears to have met its match, with Korea's dismal showing at the FIFA World Cup 2026 showing that the 1986 system appears to have reached its expiration date.

Gone are the days when the Korea Football Association (KFA) can simply prioritize short-term results over long-term development and rely on stopgap measures — like appointing a manager who had already failed to deliver in a World Cup — whenever problems arise.

Motivation and myopia

Korea has long focused on enhancing national prestige through results at the Olympics or World Cup under the slogan "physical strength is national strength." If successful outcomes could be produced, even harsh training methods were glorified.

Military service exemptions granted for Olympic medals and Asian Games gold medals acted like a high-dose steroid injection for athletes. At the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup, Korea took the extraordinary step of passing a special law to grant military service exemptions to players after the national team advanced to the Round of 16.

The 2002 semifinal run under manager Guus Hiddink marked the peak of what Korea could achieve under the 1986 football system, built on a results-first approach and the prioritization of the national team. Hiddink himself said that being able to operate the national team like a club for a year and a half contributed to the success.

During the third-place match against Turkey, the Red Devils held up cards that together spelled out "CU@K-League" — "See you at the K League" — expressing fans' hope that the World Cup momentum would carry over to domestic football. The league enjoyed a brief three months of popularity after the tournament, but failed to turn that enthusiasm into structural change.

The pattern of patching up the national team in pursuit of short-term results, without a long-term vision, also remained unchanged, with perhaps the biggest victim of that mentality the person most responsible for success: the manager.

Since Hiddink, Paulo Bento, who led Korea at the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, is the only gaffer to complete a four-year contract, leading to some fans calling the position a "poisoned chalice."

Japan, by contrast, has established a culture that guarantees managers see out their contracts based on the World Cup cycle. Hajime Moriyasu has led the Samurai Blue for eight years.

What will it take?

After Korea's group-stage exit this summer, fans' anger has focused on KFA President Chung Mong-gyu and manager Hong Myung-bo, who has since resigned. But just replacing the two will not, by itself, change Korean football. Reform beyond the 1986 system cannot be achieved in a short period of time.

One footballing official was critical of the modern KFA: "The current football system is structured so that a small number of football figures can enjoy vested interests."

The most important agents of change are footballing figures themselves, who have reaped significant rewards from the focus on the national team.

"They said dirt fields were not acceptable, so we built natural grass fields," said a football official. "They said there was nowhere to train, so dedicated training centers were built. They said they needed football-only stadiums, so those were built, too. They said there was no second division, so a second division was created. What more needs to be built now?"

Since making such demands, many national team luminaries have opted to stay away from the pitch, more content to give their two cents from the sidelines. While an active YouTube presence may offer more personal gains than mentoring younger players as part of the system, their insight, expertise and advice are wasted assets.

Among the stars of the 2002 side, only a few have steadily built coaching careers through school, university or professional teams. Cha Du-ri currently manages Hwaseong FC, having earlier coached at Osan High School. Seol Ki-hyeon managed Gyeongnam FC and Sungkyunkwan University.

Meanwhile, Lee Eul-yong, who did have a stint as caretaker manager for FC Seoul in 2018, could be seen seated next to Lee Chun-soo in a video on his former teammate's YouTube channel posted on June 25. The pair critiqued, criticized and at times outright lambasted the performance of the Taeguk Warriors — for whom Lee Eul-yong's own son, Lee Tae-seok, was on the pitch, under the tutelage of both 2002 veterans' former captain.

Neatly stacked on the coffee table in front of them was the product of a sponsor.

K-pop, K-dramas and K-movies have developed dramatically since the 1980s and risen to world-class status. Korean sports, likewise, were among the first in Asia to make an international breakthrough as Yang Jung-mo won gold in wrestling at the 1976 Montreal Olympics. But it seems now that the old system has hit its limits.

"This does not seem to be a problem limited to football," a former KFA employee said. "There is a lack of persistence and research on the ground."

“In Korean sports, it has often seemed more important to align with the right people than to study and work hard. Tactical decisions based on instinct no longer work in an era when many teams base decisions on scientific data," the former employee added.

Changing only the KFA president and leadership is not enough, according to sources. The entire organization appears long overdue for an overhaul.

"The KFA should not be seen as an organization that manages, supervises and lords over the football family rather than serving and dedicating itself to it," a representative of a professional club said, pointing to the bureaucratization of the association.

Some say the organization itself is too rigid.

"The KFA always tries to work the way it always has," another football source said. "Even if the president changes, it will be difficult for the KFA to show a new way of working unless its employees pursue self-reform."

As if to signify just how incredulously dire the situation has become — and perhaps to capitalize on public sentiment — the government has taken the unusual step of expressing its intention to reform the association.

"We will have experts form a committee to thoroughly investigate what caused this disastrous result and hold people accountable for the incompetence and shortcomings revealed in the process," Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism Chae Hwi-young said.

BY LEE HAY-JUNE [[email protected]]