"Well done. You were truly outstanding. Your country and your people will be proud of you."
At Miami Stadium in Florida on the 4th of this month, where the round-of-32 match between Argentina and Cape Verde was held at the 2026 World Cup in North and Central America, Lionel Messi, who barely secured victory after 120 minutes of a fierce battle, embraced Cape Verde's goalkeeper Vozinha and said these words. Filled with respect for the opposing team, this praise from the "God of football" made the match one of the finest of the tournament.
This World Cup, which Spain concluded by lifting the trophy again after 16 years, poured out as many dramas of emotion and joy, frustration and tears as its participant count grew from 32 to 48 nations. But the intense self-introduction and narrative written with the whole body by one small country stepping onto the World Cup stage for the first time seems destined to be inscribed on the very first page of this World Cup's history.
Cape Verde. It means "green cape." The name derives from its sharply protruding terrain, and this is also why the national team's nickname is the "Blue Sharks." Many people now know this country, which is even hard to find on a globe. A tiny piece of land made up of 10 volcanic islands on the Atlantic Ocean west of Africa. A young nation of 530,000 people that became a Portuguese colony in 1456 and only gained independence in 1975.
Beyond Cape Verde's history, which might appear on a world history exam, there is another memory that will remain long in many people's minds and hearts. The Blue Sharks faced "invincible armada" Spain in the group stage and held out without conceding a goal. Cape Verde is the only team that Spain failed to beat all the way to the championship. In the round of 32, they pushed defending champion Argentina to the edge of a cliff. Even against the world's strongest teams, they did not shrink, and even after conceding, they did not give up. Believing until the last moment that they could catch up, they ran and ran to the end.
Cape Verde never won a single match. But no one called their journey a "failure." That is because they showed many things more important than results: grit and tenacity, courage, and belief in their own football. Making people look forward to the next World Cup and the next match, they remained a team that "lost but won."
Our people wanted to see the football the Blue Sharks showed. It was not that we wished for victory in every match. We wanted to see the kind of football that keeps clashing even against a strong opponent, rises again even after conceding first, and runs for victory until the whistle blows.
Everything Cape Verde's football showed was once all that we had. The Taeguk Warriors also created countless scenes that made the people proud and gave heart-swelling emotion. The advance to the round of 16 at the 2022 Qatar World Cup, and the victory over Germany at the 2018 Russia World Cup, were such moments. Going back a little further in time, the advance to the semifinals at the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup sits at the pinnacle of that emotion.
I once again recall 2002, when we tasted the miracle of the entire nation becoming one in the squares, breaking down the prejudices of generation and class. The reason that summer remains an eternally shining memory in the people's hearts is not solely the result of the semifinal legend. It was possible because of a system that rolled fairly like a soccer ball equal only before ability and sweat, breaking the chronic ills of Korean football such as school ties and regional connections, and because of the players' grit and tenacity as they roamed the ground with all their might.
34th out of 48 nations. This is the report card Korean football received at this World Cup. Had the number of participants not increased, this would have been not a simple early elimination but a collapse to a level that casts doubt on its very competitiveness in the finals. This was no misfortune that struck suddenly one day. It is a reality faced at the end of layers upon layers of time spent turning away from the problems that made us lose, one by one, our strengths and our colors.
Korean football is now talking about reconstruction. The head of the Korea Football Association will change, and a new manager will be appointed. The association, which has monopolized power through closed operations and connection-centered decision-making, has also come under scrutiny. With even the political sphere watching closely, there will be some movement toward change in one way or another.
But if, at the end of that change, we fail to reclaim what our football has lost, then I say without hesitation that there will be no future for Korean football. If it does not change properly this time, we may not even get the chance to receive a shabby report card at the next World Cup.
