[WEEKENDER] Beyond the podium: Embracing true diversity in Korean sports

A Korea Times opinion piece says Korean sports remains split by ratings, outdated labels and profit-driven broadcasting, with the Asian Games in Nagoya, Japan highlighting the divide. It argues that lesser-known sports, women athletes and naturalized or mixed-race athletes are routinely overlooked or labeled unfairly. The piece says true diversity would value athletic effort and dignity over medals, salaries or national prestige.

The article says Korean men’s 3x3 basketball won a historic Asian Games gold medal and canoe sprint athletes also reached the podium, but major Seoul broadcasters aired early-round baseball instead.

It traces the mindset behind the bias to the 1980s military dictatorship and its 3S policy, which used screen, sex and sports to distract the public.

The piece cites Lee Jun-seok’s teqball gold as an example of media focusing more on his decision to leave a corporate job than on his training and strategy.

Published Oct 2, 2026 7:01 am KST

Asian Games show how television ratings, outdated labels, thirst for national glory still overshadow athletic effort

South Korean players lie on the court to celebrate after defeating Qatar 19-10 in the men's 3x3 basketball final to win gold at the 2026 Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games at a special court in Kinjo-futo Station Plaza in Nagoya, Japan, Sept. 25. Korea Times photo by Ha Sang-yun

NAGOYA, Japan — When the Korean men’s 3x3 basketball team secured a historic Asian Games gold medal here last week, the celebrations back home were muted. That same quiet greeted the nation’s canoe sprint athletes as they paddled their way to the podium. There was only one Asian Games event for that time slot that made it to viewers through the major broadcast television networks in Seoul: early-round baseball.

The Asian Games, promoted with grand “Imagine One Asia” banners, are designed to project unity. But for Korea, the competition has exposed a strict, deeply unequal domestic sports culture — one that divides far more than it unites, valuing TV ratings and outdated labels over athletic skill.

South Korea’s Kim Jin-uk pitches during the first match of the Super Round against Japan on Day 6 of the 20th Asian Games at Toyohashi Municipal Baseball Stadium in Toyohashi, Aichi, Sept. 25. Korea lost 5-0. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

The broadcast blackout was not a deliberate affront, but a reflection of a TV industry tied to profit. Just months ago, major broadcast networks championing the “public’s right to watch” criticized cable channel JTBC for securing exclusive rights to show the World Cup and the Winter Olympics. However, when faced with the cold reality of television ratings, those same networks naturally turned toward the guaranteed numbers of a baseball game, leaving great moments in lesser-known sports completely ignored.

The divide dates back to the 1980s, when Korea’s military dictatorship used the “3S” policy — screen, sex and sports — to distract a frustrated public and try to force a sense of national pride. Sports were treated as a simple tool where winning was the only thing that mattered.

South Korea’s Lee Jun-seok celebrates his win over Iraq’s Al Jalil Mexer Alelayawi to take gold in the men's singles teqball final for the 20th Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games at Nagoya City Higashi Sports Center in Nagoya, Japan, Sept. 20. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Decades later, that results-only mindset remains. For athletes in less popular sports, excellence alone is rarely enough to earn respect. When Lee Jun-seok won a historic gold in teqball thanks to a flawless strategy, the media largely ignored his actual skill. Driven by public hunger for drama, coverage focused instead on his decision to leave a steady corporate job to concentrate on the sport. The story demanded a sad tale of sacrifice to validate his medal, brushing over his intensive training. It is a culture that requires a tragic backstory while quietly downplaying hard work.

This mindset weighs equally heavily on famous athletes. There is a tiring habit of framing every men’s medal race as a desperate attempt to win a military service exemption, focusing on a legal shortcut while skipping over a lifetime of discipline. The absurdity of this was clearly shown recently when a reporter asked Lee Young-jun, a forward for the national football team who had already finished his military duty, why he was still playing so hard. Lee delivered a firm reply: “I play to win.” Tying a young athlete’s effort strictly to his draft status is an insult to the sport itself.

South Korea competes against Japan before a packed crowd during the finals game in women’s handball at the 20th Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games at Toyoda Gosei Memorial Gymnasium in Inazawa, Aichi, Japan, Sept. 27. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

The public’s support is just as selective. In 2019, South Koreans expressed anger on a national level when the men’s football team played a World Cup qualifier in an empty stadium in Pyongyang. But for women athletes, competing in empty arenas is everyday life. Although the national women’s basketball and handball teams captured gold medals at the current Asian Games, they are accustomed to returning home to play before empty seats. The anger over empty stadiums, it seems, is saved only for the most popular of men's sports.

This professional bias was clearly seen when Korea’s highly paid baseball stars lost to a Japanese squad made up of industrial-league players — factory workers and office clerks who practice after their shifts end. Rather than respecting their grit, the Korean public reacted with anger. The backlash shows how athletic worth is directly tied to high salaries, treating professional sports as an exclusive club rather than a pure test of skill.

South Korea’s Daniel Biwesa, left, competes in the men’s 100m Round 1 for the 20th Asian Games at Nagoya City Mizuho Park Athletic Stadium in Nagoya, Japan, Sept. 25. Biwesa advanced to the semifinal. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Most damagingly, this exclusivity goes beyond paychecks and bleeds into issues of race. Until very recently, it was normal in Korean sports leagues to refer to foreign players as “yongbyeong” — literally, “mercenaries.” That closed-off mindset continues today. When sprinters like Biwesa Daniel Gasama or athletes like Namadi Joel-jin are introduced to the public, labels are used as barriers. They are introduced as “naturalized” or “mixed-race,” rather than simply Korean. The double standard is clear. When Son Heung-min steps onto a pitch in England, the British public does not brand him with outsider labels; he is simply a brilliant footballer. Yet at home, the outdated idea of ethnic homogeneity maintains a strong grip on the public imagination. These athletes sweat and bleed under the Korean flag; in a truly inclusive culture, there are no asterisks next to a nationality.

The fault does not lie only with the athletes who play popular men’s sports or with the fans who have long turned to them for comfort and unity during hard times. Broadcasters, too, are bound by the pressures of profit. The true issue is a deep-rooted system that feeds the mainstream, creating a closed loop that makes it impossible for diverse, local sports to grow in the public mind.

South Korea's Yeo Seo-jeong competes on the vault during the women's artistic gymnastics individual all-around final at the 20th Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games at Nagoya City General Gymnasium in Nagoya, Japan, Sept. 22. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

If sports are meant to heal social divides, society must broaden its view of athletic value. The most beautiful proof of this at these Games did not happen on a baseball diamond, but inside the gymnastics arena. Gymnastics is, by its nature, a sport of physical storytelling. Because athletes translate their raw emotions into physical action, it is a sport where true, individual diversity naturally takes center stage. During the women’s team competition, athletes performed very different routines, each bringing a unique, personal art to the floor.

The crowd responded in kind. Ignoring the national flags on the scoreboards, the audience erupted in real applause for the pure effort of every single gymnast. It was a brief, clear look at what sports can be when a culture drops its biases.

A copy of the Chunichi Sports newspaper sits at a coffee shop in downtown Nagoya, Japan, Tuesday. The front page of the region's largest sports daily features the local professional baseball team, the Chunichi Dragons, illustrating how the publication prioritizes local pro sports over the ongoing Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

On Tuesday morning in Nagoya, even with the Asian Games in full swing, the front pages of the local sports papers looked exactly as they always do: filled with news of regional professional baseball teams. For the people of this city, the daily standings of the Chunichi Dragons matter more than the gold medals of the Games. It was not a rejection of the international competition, but quiet proof of a mature sports culture — one where local passions and daily fandoms are not simply swallowed whole by the loud excitement of national events.

That steady, daily loyalty to the sport itself, independent of national glory, is the true vision of a diverse future for Korea. It is the real path toward genuine sportsmanship — a culture that respects human effort and dignity long before the final medal tally is complete.

《韩国时报》的一篇评论文章指出，韩国体育界仍然存在收视率低、标签陈旧以及以盈利为导向的转播等问题，而日本名古屋亚运会更是凸显了这种分裂。文章认为，一些不太知名的体育项目、女运动员以及归化运动员或混血运动员经常被忽视或被贴上不公平的标签。文章指出，真正的多元化应该重视运动员的努力和尊严，而不是奖牌、薪水或国家声望。

文章称，韩国男子三人篮球队赢得了历史性的亚运会金牌，皮划艇短跑运动员也登上了领奖台，但首尔的主要电视台却播放了棒球比赛的早期轮次。

它追溯了这种偏见背后的心态，认为它源于 20 世纪 80 年代的军事独裁政权及其 3S 政策，该政策利用屏幕、性、体育来转移公众的注意力。

文章以李俊锡获得特克球金牌为例，说明媒体更多地关注他离开公司工作的决定，而不是他的训练和​​策略。

发布于2026年10月2日 上午7:01（韩国标准时间）

亚运会表明，电视收视率、过时的标签以及对国家荣耀的渴望仍然掩盖了体育竞技本身的努力。

9月25日，在日本名古屋金城太郎站广场的特设球场，韩国队在男子三人篮球决赛中以19比10战胜卡塔尔队，夺得2026年爱知-名古屋亚运会金牌。赛后，韩国队员躺在球场上庆祝胜利。（韩国时报 河相允 摄）

日本名古屋——上周，韩国男子三人篮球队在亚运会上夺得历史性的金牌，但国内的庆祝活动却十分冷清。同样，韩国皮划艇运动员在登上领奖台时，也感受到了同样的寂静。在首尔的主要电视台，那个时段只有一项亚运会赛事能够播出：棒球比赛的早期轮次。

亚运会以“想象一个亚洲”的宏伟横幅进行宣传，旨在展现团结。但对韩国而言，这项赛事却暴露了其国内严苛且极度不平等的体育文化——这种文化分裂远大于团结，重视电视收视率和过时的标签，而非运动技能。

9月25日，在爱知县丰桥市丰桥市立棒球场举行的第20届亚运会超级循环赛第六天的比赛中，韩国队投手金镇旭对阵日本队。韩国队最终以0比5落败。韩国时报崔元硕摄

这次电视转播禁令并非蓄意挑衅，而是电视行业唯利是图的体现。就在几个月前，那些高喊“公众观看权”的大型广播电视网还批评有线电视台JTBC获得了世界杯和冬奥会的独家转播权。然而，当面对残酷的收视率现实时，这些电视网自然而然地转向了收视率有保障的棒球比赛，完全忽略了那些不太热门的体育赛事中的精彩瞬间。

这种分歧可以追溯到上世纪80年代，当时韩国军政府推行“3S”政策——影视、性、体育——以转移民众的注意力，并试图强加民族自豪感。体育被视为一种简单的工具，胜负是唯一重要的事。

9月20日，在日本名古屋市东体育中心举行的第20届爱知-名古屋亚运会男子单打特克球决赛中，韩国选手李俊锡战胜伊拉克选手阿尔·贾利勒·梅克塞尔·阿莱拉亚维，夺得金牌。图为李俊锡庆祝胜利。（韩国时报 崔元硕 摄）

几十年过去了，这种只看结果的思维模式依然存在。对于一些不太热门的运动项目的运动员来说，仅仅拥有卓越的成绩往往不足以赢得尊重。李俊锡凭借完美的策略赢得了特克球历史性的金牌，但媒体却大多忽略了他的真正实力。在公众渴望戏剧性事件的驱使下，报道的重点反而放在了他放弃稳定的企业工作、专注于这项运动的决定上。故事需要一个悲惨的牺牲来证明他获得金牌的合理性，却忽略了他艰苦的训练。这是一种需要悲惨背景故事，却悄悄淡化努力的文化。

这种心态同样深深影响着著名运动员。一种令人厌倦的习惯是，将男子运动员的每一场奖牌争夺都视为争取免服兵役的孤注一掷，只关注法律上的捷径，却忽略了终身自律的重要性。这种荒谬之处最近就显露无疑：一位记者问已经服完兵役的韩国国家足球队前锋李英俊，为什么还要如此拼搏。李英俊坚定地回答：“我是为了赢球而战。” 将年轻运动员的努力与他们的兵役状况完全挂钩，是对这项运动本身的侮辱。

9月27日，在日本爱知县稻泽市丰田复合纪念体育馆举行的第20届爱知-名古屋亚运会女子手球决赛中，韩国队与日本队在座无虚席的观众面前展开激烈角逐。（韩国时报 崔元硕 摄）

公众的支持也同样具有选择性。2019年，韩国男足在平壤空荡荡的体育场进行世界杯预选赛时，韩国民众表达了全国范围的愤怒。但对于女运动员来说，在空荡荡的体育场比赛却是家常便饭。尽管韩国女篮和女手球队在本届亚运会上夺得了金牌，但她们早已习惯了回到家乡在空荡荡的看台前比赛。看来，只有最受瞩目的男子体育项目才会引发对空场比赛的愤怒。

这种职业偏见在韩国高薪棒球明星输给一支由产业联赛球员组成的日本队时体现得淋漓尽致。这些产业联赛球员大多是工厂工人或上班族，他们在下班后才来训练。韩国公众非但没有尊重他们的拼搏精神，反而感到愤怒。这种强烈的反弹表明，运动员的价值与高薪直接挂钩，职业体育被视为一个排外的俱乐部，而非纯粹的技能较量。

9月25日，在位于日本名古屋市瑞穗公园体育场举行的第20届亚运会男子100米第一轮比赛中，韩国选手丹尼尔·比维萨（左）正在比赛。比维萨晋级半决赛。照片由《韩国时报》崔元硕拍摄。

最具破坏性的是，这种排他性不仅仅体现在薪酬上，还渗透到种族问题中。直到不久前，在韩国体育联盟中，称呼外籍球员为“雇佣兵”（yongbyeong）——字面意思是“雇佣兵”——还是司空见惯的事情。这种封闭的心态至今仍然存在。当像比维萨·丹尼尔·加萨马（Biwesa Daniel Gasama）这样的短跑运动员或像纳马迪·乔尔-金（Namadi Joel-jin）这样的运动员出现在公众面前时，标签却成了障碍。他们被介绍为“归化”或“混血”，而不是简单地说是韩国人。这种双重标准显而易见。当孙兴慜踏上英格兰的球场时，英国公众不会给他贴上“外来者”的标签；他只是一个才华横溢的足球运动员。然而在韩国国内，过时的种族同质性观念仍然牢牢地影响着公众的认知。这些运动员在韩国国旗下挥洒汗水、浴血奋战；在一个真正包容的文化中，国籍旁边不应该有任何星号。

问题不只在于那些从事热门男子体育项目的运动员，也不在于那些在艰难时期寻求慰藉和团结的球迷。广播公司也同样受到盈利压力的制约。真正的症结在于一个根深蒂固的体系，它迎合主流，形成一个闭环，使得多元化的本土体育项目难以在公众心中发展壮大。

9月22日，在位于日本名古屋市的名古屋市综合体育馆举行的第20届爱知-名古屋亚运会女子体操个人全能决赛中，韩国选手吕瑞贞正在进行跳马比赛。（韩国时报 崔元硕 摄）

如果体育运动旨在弥合社会鸿沟，那么社会就必须拓宽对体育价值的认知。本届奥运会上最精彩的例证并非发生在棒球场上，而是在体操赛场上。体操本质上是一项用身体讲述故事的运动。运动员将他们最真挚的情感转化为肢体动作，因此，这项运动自然而然地展现出真正的、个性化的多样性。在女子团体赛中，运动员们表演了风格迥异的节目，每个人都将自己独特的艺术带到了赛场上。

观众也以同样的方式回应。他们无视记分牌上的国旗，为每一位体操运动员的全力以赴献上了发自内心的掌声。这短暂而清晰地展现了当一种文化摒弃偏见时，体育运动能够呈现出怎样的面貌。

周二，一份《中日体育报》摆放在日本名古屋市中心的一家咖啡馆里。这份地区发行量最大的体育日报的头版刊登了当地职业棒球队“中日龙队”的新闻，这表明该报将本地职业体育置于正在进行的爱知-名古屋亚运会之上。韩国时报摄影师崔元硕（Choi Won-suk）摄。照片由《韩国时报》记者崔元硕拍摄。

周二上午，在名古屋，即便亚运会正如火如荼地进行，当地体育报纸的头版头条依然如往常一样：全是地区职业棒球队的新闻。对于这座城市的居民来说，中日龙队的每日排名比亚运会的金牌更重要。这并非是对国际赛事的漠视，而是成熟体育文化的静谧体现——在这里，地方的热情和日常的球迷群体不会被全国性赛事的喧嚣所淹没。

这种对体育本身的坚定不移、不计国家荣誉的日常忠诚，才是韩国多元化未来的真正愿景。这才是通往真正体育精神的真正途径——一种在最终奖牌榜揭晓之前就尊重人类努力和尊严的文化。