Soccer will always be a corrupt sport—that’s part of the show – Quartz

Corruption and soccer share an intimate relationship, but anyone who discovered that for the first time last week hasn’t been watching closely enough. While the American legal process will, in time, reveal the depth of FIFA’s corruption, the sport’s most common sort of fraud is self-evident in world soccer history.

On June 22, 1986, for example, Diego Maradona became a legend as he sprinted, dribbled, and dodged past at least six opposing English defenders and scored what became known as the “Goal of the Century.” Maradona’s goal against England is, next to Sepp Blatter’s re-election as FIFA’s president, the single greatest individual achievement in the history of soccer.

But Maradona scored two goals in that fateful match, and his first goal in Argentina v. England, was history-making for another reason: it was a complete fraud. Breaking the most cardinal sin of soccer, Maradona handled the ball, punching it into the net with his bare hand. Yet, the Tunisian referee allowed Maradona’s punch. The cheat has since been canonized in soccer lore as the “Hand of God,” and in keeping with soccer culture, this blatant wrong never sullied  Greatness can be achieved through both guile or integrity. Maradona’s reputation. He is still worshipped as a minor deity in Argentina and remains, of course, a global soccer icon.

Or take the 2002 World Cup. On paper, the FIFA-run championship was groundbreaking because it was the first World Cup to be held in Asia. Yet the tournament itself displayed a bizarre number of shocking upsets, notably South Korea consecutively defeating soccer heavyweights Portugal, Italy, and Spain to reach the semi-finals.

On one hand, the 2002 World Cup was the event that catalyzed my obsession for the beautiful game. At the time, it seemed as if Korea’s fairy tale run to the semi-finals was sure to be turned into a hit Korean drama. Now, corruption allegations in the 2002 World Cup have never been substantiated. But as Korea defeated Italy and Spain, European media outlets began to cry foul. Sore losers or not, the question was raised, and endures.

The most iconic Korean soccer image is of Ahn Jung-Hwang leaping over the legendary Italian Defender Paolo Maldini to head Korea’s winning goal past Gianluigi Buffon in the 119th minute of their elimination match. The goal, given the incredible career accolades of both Maldini and Buffon, may have been unbelievable, but it was fair. The series of events leading up to the goal, however, was not. In that game, Korea was essentially given a license to kill. Flying elbows and reckless tackles were the norm, and it showed on Italian winger Francesco Coco’s bloodied face. Late in the game, Francesco Totti was sent off for diving in a play that was undoubtedly the wrong call.

FIFA itself went as far as to concede that the referee, Byron Moreno, had made an error. Even later in the game, Damiano Tommasi had a goal called back by Moreno for offside. He wasn’t.  For Koreans, their zealous support during 2002 World Cup must have been a sort of collective catharsis. Franco Frattini, Italy’s minister for public offenses commented, “The referee was a disgrace, absolutely scandalous.”

The Korean farce of 2002 was not finished with Italy. In the very next game, in the World Cup quarterfinals, an Egyptian referee, Gamal Ghandour disallowed two legitimate goals by Spain against Korea. One goal was disallowed for a phantom foul. Another goal was disallowed, because the ball was called out of bounds on the cross, even though the ball was at least one ball length in bounds. According to the BBC, Spanish media later reported that Grandeur had received a Hyundai car from then Korean FIFA Vice-President Chung Mong-Joon.

In my mind, over a decade later, there is no doubt that Korean games were indeed fixed. My passion for soccer was built on a lie. 

Soccer is a temporary escape from reality. It’s a fantasy and a spectacle. In the otherwise ordered and structured reality that we happen to live in, soccer provides a departure from norms. The summer of 2002 in Korea was pure pandemonium. Millions of Koreans gathered en masse to support their national team for every game. For a country that is renowned for its diligent and industrious working habits, Korea essentially shut down for a one-month holiday. For Koreans, their zealous support during 2002 World Cup must have been a sort of collective catharsis and a testament to the country’s resilience. The tournament was being held in the wake of the IMF Crisis that had nearly crippled the Korean economy.

In broader historical context, the images of packed stadiums, mass gatherings, and a technologically developed and modernized country offered a radical juxtaposition of images from a war-torn hell that was subsequently governed by a series repressive dictatorships for over three decades. Korea’s remarkable result in the 2002 World Cup, which was accentuated by a prominent crowd message reading “Dream Come True” in Korea’s semi-final match against Germany in Seoul, was a near perfect reflection of the country’s inexplicably rapid emergence from the third world.

Just as fans suspend the norms of behavior in their support of one team or another, so do those inside the game seek to satisfy their audience by suspending the everyday rules and standards that discourage deceitful and corrupt behavior. In this regard, soccer is as much a spectacle to be performed, as it is a sport. In soccer’s habitual chaos, greatness and immortality can be achieved through either guile or integrity. Either way, both will be celebrated in the stands.

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