“I’m not proud, I’m more cautious.”
Son Woong-jung, the father of Tottenham Hotspur forward Heung-min, is explaining how it feels to see his child win the Premier League Golden Boot and explode into one of the world’s most exciting footballers.
“Because I don’t want it to go to his head,” Son senior adds. “I don’t want him to become too overconfident or cocky. I want him to be humble because nothing lasts for ever — there’s always a chance he could drop in form.
“Take a farmer: he may have a good harvest but he should not be too happy about it. And if he has a bad harvest he shouldn’t be too down about it. Because there’s always the next year, so that’s the mentality I have. With titles like the Golden Boot, yes, it’s a great accomplishment but I want to make sure he doesn’t falter in form and keeps that consistency.”
Woong-jung is speaking to The Athletic at the Son Football Academy in Chuncheon, the city in which Heung-min grew up, just over 100 kilometres north east of Seoul. Where the Spurs striker, along with his brother Heung-yun, was coached with laser-like focus and strictness by their father. Where the Son boys would have to keep the ball up for four hours on end, and take part in drills with hundreds of repetitions and have to start again if they faltered, and not allowed to join a team until they were in their mid-teens so that they could nail the basics first.
To understand how Son Heung-min has made it to this level, you have to understand the man who still lives with him in north London and who coached him with such merciless precision during his formative years. His willingness to go again, the determination for constant improvement, the two-footedness — it was all honed in Chuncheon.
On the latter skill, which has seen his son become the most two-footed goalscorer in Premier League history, Woong-jung explains: “Usually when students or footballers are starting, they tend to have a preferred foot — and the ratio is 3:1. Three for the stronger foot and one for the weaker foot. Here when they start training, if you’re right footed you always touch the ball with your left foot first — so you develop that other foot. And, eventually, you get to a level of two-footedness.
“In Heung-min’s case I knew he was right footed but I made sure that socks, cleats (football boots), shoes, trousers, watch or anything like that, he put on his left side first so he never forgot about the two-footedness.”
In jointly winning the Premier League’s Golden Boot last season, Son scored more with his supposedly weaker left (12) than his right (11).
“Whenever he does shooting practice, I make sure that he does hundreds and hundreds of shots — especially when he was young,” his father continues. “But if the left one was falling behind a bit I’d make sure that he was even and they were at the same level before he was done for the day.”
Son’s father is 60 years old and stands at just under 5ft 5in (167cm). The black sports vest he wears during training emphasises his impeccable physical condition — a product of a daily two-hour gym routine and, when he’s in Chuncheon, about the same amount of time spent on the pitch conducting extremely hands-on coaching sessions.
At the Son academy, he wants to give the 35 or so students the best possible chance of one day emulating their hero. As was the case with his two boys, Woong-jung is relentless in the demands he places on these youngsters — and puts the same emphasis on drills, while still refusing to let his charges play for clubs until they reach 15 or 16 years of age.
Watching him on the training pitch is fascinating.
He barks orders, often including expletives, at the players (most of whom are 12 years old), plays a completely active role in the drills and then a small-sided game; early on in the session, he says one of the boys should go home because he’s not sufficiently focused.
The academy itself is hugely impressive, built at a cost of just under £11million — pretty much all paid for by the Spurs and South Korea star.
There is a clubhouse, classrooms for the children, and about half a dozen pitches, including one full-size one. They hope to soon build a coffee shop and a car park for visitors, while a Son Heung-min museum is in the planning stages.
The academy started a decade ago but, as Son’s profile has risen as he has become more of a name in European football, it has increasingly expanded — first, thanks to a number of big sponsors in 2015 and then accelerating as he has been able to invest more and more in it. Usually in South Korea, these sort of enterprises are partially or fully taxpayer-funded, but this has all been built through private money.
The 35 boys (plus three more who have followed Son’s own path as a youngster and been signed by German clubs) enrolled in the academy are carefully chosen. They come from all over the country, and must meet the high physical and mental standards set by Woong-jung, who despite living in London for most of the year but is the director of the academy and is very hands-on. In his absence, Son’s brother Heung-yun is head coach and looks after things, and is a much more genial presence than his father.
Heung-yun, a 33-year-old who played professionally in Korea and in the German fifth tier, laughs when asked if he’s as strict as their father. “I want to be in the middle — the coach with two faces,” he says. “If I need to be strict, I’ll be strict. If I need to be gentle, I’ll be gentle.”
The aim for these youngsters is for them to one day have a professional career like the Son brothers, and indeed their dad, who had to retire aged 28 because of an achilles injury having got as far as the Korea B team.
Two of the academy’s recent graduates are at Paderborn (Choi In-woo, 19, and 20-year-old fellow midfielder Ryu Dong-wan), with another also in Germany at St Pauli but currently back at the academy recuperating. The Sons have good relationships with German clubs, dating back to Son’s time with Hamburg as a teenager and then Bayer Leverkusen before joining Spurs in the summer of 2015.
Finding clubs for the players is the aim once they turn 15, but children start at the academy aged as young as seven. Supplementary education is available but the youngsters generally go through the state system separately, alongside classes like specialist language ones at the academy to try to prepare them for a career, hopefully, playing in Europe.
As has been the case for Son, who said of his dad in 2019: “My father was thinking of what I needed all the time. He has done everything for me and without him, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today.”
And so, with Son now a global superstar and currently in the country along with his Tottenham team-mates, this feels like an opportune moment to speak to his family members and understand how he evolved as a footballer and how his family are trying to foster a new generation of South Korean footballers.
And separately why dad Woong-jung, in whom his son can see some similarities with Spurs head coach Antonio Conte, is doubling down on his recent claim that his son is not world-class.
Chuncheon is a couple of hours drive from Seoul depending on traffic, and is much more rural than the Korean capital. It is the capital of the Gangwon province, though, which also includes Pyeongchang, where the 2018 Winter Olympics took place. There is an urban area with big skyscrapers but they look a long way in the distance from the academy, which is surrounded with forestry and has mountains behind it.
The drive in takes you past posters and a mural of local hero Son, and his image is front and centre of its entrance.
As we enter, a group of youngsters exit a classroom where they’ve been having an English lesson, and we sit down to hear from Woong-jung before seeing a training session in action.
Woong-jung is a big celebrity in his own right in Korea, helped in large part by the fame and success of his son in the Premier League. He has a distinctive appearance and last October released a book on the principles of his teachings titled Everything Starts With The Fundamentals. But he rarely gives interviews — an exception being the one in June where he stated that he doesn’t think Son is world-class.
His passion is in trying to create the right conditions for aspiring footballers to prosper.
“When I was training my sons at a very young age, one of the most difficult things here is that the climate is not very suitable, because it is very cold during winter,” he says. “During summer it’s very hot and humid, and there aren’t many elite-level grounds they could provide if they had someone to take to the next level of football. Whether that’s the national level here, or the pro level here, or even Europe.
“And that’s one of the regrets I had and one of the reasons I accompanied Heung-min to Germany so he could have that kind of environment.
“So I wanted to provide that kind of environment for younger kids here. And I was able to do this because of the income of Heung-min — to give a chance to anyone aspiring to be at that level of footballer.”
He goes on to explain how he deems it essential that his young charges can control the ball with any part of their foot — as well as other parts of their body. This was part of the rationale behind some of the legendary routines his sons went through when they were growing up. One was juggling the ball for three laps of the pitch — one with the left foot, one with the right, then one with both. If they dropped the ball at any point, they had to start again from the first lap. At one point the fierceness of Woong-jung’s instructions raised concerns among one passer-by.
The famous exercise where Son had to keep the ball up in the air for hours on end was another staple related to this principle of using all parts of the body, and left a lasting impression on the now-Spurs forward.
“He gave us four hours of keepy-uppies,” Son said in 2019. “Both of us. After about three hours, I was seeing three balls. The floor was red (because of his bloodshot eyes). I was so tired. And he was so angry. I think this was the best story and we still talk about it when we are all together. Four hours keeping the ball up and you don’t drop it. That’s difficult, no?”
Things don’t appear quite as extreme when The Athletic visits, but the session starts with the 12-year-olds kicking the ball into the air and controlling it. On repeat. For about 15 minutes.
Again, other fundamentals for Woong-jung include his charges not playing as part of a team or even shooting at goal until they’re around 15 years old — as was the case with Son.
“You don’t put your kids who can barely walk into a track and field tournament,” he says by way of explanation. “And it’s the same thing. Because when you’re in a match, first of all you need to be able to control the opponent. If you can’t handle the ball alone, let alone handling the ball with an opponent, what’s the point in sending them to a match?
“The second reason is that for schools, parents and some clubs that have kids playing matches at an early age, it’s not about developing them as players, they care more about winning matches and local competitions — rather than focusing on developing the basic fundamentals.”
For some of the youngsters at the academy, the idea of playing for a team is a genuinely alien concept.
On the shooting ban, Woong-jung says: “Before the age of 15, we don’t tell kids to shoot the ball. Why is that? It will damage their ligaments and joints. Because they’re not yet fully matured yet. It was the same with Heung-min.
“And that’s also why I was against my children participating in club matches at that age, and it’s the same philosophy with the current group.”
Woong-jung does not want the mistakes that contributed to the early end of his own playing career repeated.
To succeed at the academy, you need to completely buy into these methods — not to mention be willing to relocate your family to Chuncheon, as there is no on-site accommodation. There are other non-negotiables too.
“This isn’t a playground, and I’m very strict about it,” Woong-jung says. “If you’re going to be here and don’t have a good athletic form and look lazy on the field and around the place, that’s a huge no for me. The other one is attitude in general. Be humble, be respectful to who you’re teaching and who you’re being taught by.
“If those two elements are not there, I will expel them from the academy.”
Woong-jung paints a pretty vivid picture of how he operates, but how do those who have been coached by him feel about it?
Older son Heung-yun played in the German lower leagues with Hamburg side SV Halstenbek-Rellingen but retired young.
“He just had no talent,” is his dad’s honest typically forthright assessment.
Heung-yun says: “When I was being coached by my father, it was a very scary and very difficult atmosphere because he was such a strict coach. But when I coach, I wonder if the students now are able to keep up with it. So I put in a balance of being strict sometimes and sometimes gentle.
“My father could be like that too, but he put a lot of emphasis on focus and how to develop that focus to a high level. The juggling exercise for example was a way to maintain that focus.”
The current crop of youngsters speak highly of Woong-jung, but are clearly pretty scared of him. “Maybe it’s different for other coaches but when I come through the gates, the eyes — they all change,” he says. “They all know. It’s like a drill sergeant has come in. They snap into position, ready to go. I’m still quite tough on them.
“Sometimes my sons were like, ‘You’re like the stepfather, or father-in-law, you’re that tough’. I’m proud of that image.”
Woong-jung and Heung-yun both say, though, that the old fella has softened a little with age.
We get some evidence of this at the end of the session, when he gives the boys warm hugs.
Behind the main training pitches, there is a steep set of stairs — specially installed for the youngsters to run up and down. Conte’s notorious fitness coach Gian Petro Ventrone would surely be impressed.
Over on the other side, behind the 11-a-side pitch, there are big covers to protect the surface from heavy rain and cold in the winter.
While the young players start the session by kicking the ball high up in the air and controlling it, Woong-jung tells a coach one of them should be sent home because of his lack of focus.
The hands-on way he shuttles around different areas of the pitch is reminiscent of Conte the previous day, during Spurs’ open training session in Seoul.
As the youngsters go through their routines, GPS trackers pick up their every move — part of which is geared towards injury prevention and ensuring they are not overburdened. The sessions last up to two hours with short breaks to mimic the length of a match and are intense, and so this is a valid concern.
This feels like another comparison with Conte after Tottenham’s brutal session the previous day.
“I highly respect Coach Conte, and the key reason is his passion,” Woong-jung says. “You can see the way he acts and coaches the players. Some people, when they saw the training and how he changed the training mentality at Tottenham, thought, ‘Isn’t that a bit too much? Isn’t that a bit too extreme?’. But then it was because of that passion that they were able to make it into the Champions League.”
Heung-yun adds: “He likes Conte as a coach and the way Conte wants the players to focus and have the right mentality and physicality for training. It reminds him of training with our father.”
Woong-jung laughs off any comparisons with Conte — and the idea that he would be able to beat the former Juventus and Italy midfielder in a race.
But everything he does during the session is at a brisk pace. “How dare you walk?” he says to one of the players.
In general, the parents of these children — many of whom are at the session — don’t seem to mind Woong-jung’s forthrightness. They say that they see his more approachable manner with the players at the end of the session, so know that it’s coming from a good place. He is also able to rein it in when needs be — holding back from one player who appears on the verge of tears.
The point is made as well that cultural differences may make his behaviour feel a little less extreme to a Korean audience. Even if he appears to one observer with Western points of reference “like a footballing Gordon Ramsay”.
Heung-yun meanwhile acts more as the good cop of the pair, encouraging the players and at one point impressing them with a rabona pass.
Woong-jung may be the director of the academy, a role normally associated with sitting behind a desk, but he seems to do more running than most of the players.
After urging the players to be quicker with their rondos, the group is split into two. Woong-jung plays as a centre-back for one side, bossing the game from there and at one point putting up an imaginary flag to disallow a goal after a youngster had snuck in behind him to score. It looked borderline offside at best. “His team never loses,” says one of his colleagues, laughing.
Woong-jung also has no compunction about using skills to dribble his way past the opposition players. There’s a hint of the Competitive Dad character from the 1990s sketch comedy series The Fast Show or, for older readers, the late Brian Glover as the PE teacher in 1969 movie Kes.
In accordance with his instructions, there is no shooting other than close-range finishes.
Once the players turn 15 they will start in intensive shooting drills, as Son did, with a focus on ensuring they become completely two-footed. When he was 18, Son focused on shooting practice, shooting 500 times with his left and right foot, respectively. He would pick certain points in the goal to aim at, which became known as “Son Heung-min zones.”
“I’m not particularly proud of it (Son’s two-footedness), it’s really just a demonstration of what I’m teaching,” Woong-jung says. “What I’d like to emphasise is that you should be free to do whatever you want with the ball if you’re a good footballer.”
Son himself visited the academy last month, much to the boys’ delight. And it recently hosted a tournament for young players from different east Asian countries, as well as Colombia.
The day of The Athletic’s visit is the last before the summer holidays, and it feels as though Woong-jung wants to make the most of the short remaining time available. Having said he wants to “push the players to the limit — mentally and physically, and with the ball”, he leaves them in no uncertain terms about what he wants.
“Why are you in the wrong position?” he asks one; “Is this time to be standing?” he asks another.
Some of the coaches are asked similarly searching questions. It definitely has the feel of a military exercise.
And in another echo of Spurs’ training session on Monday, one exhausted player lies collapsed behind the goal.
However one feels about Woong-jung’s methods, there is no denying that they worked extremely well with Son — both as a player and as a person.
“I’m a lot less strict with my sons now,” Woong-jung says. “From the age of about 15 I’ve been a lot more flexible, more supportive. They’re adults and they make their own decisions — as long as they’re the relatively right decisions. I tend to be in the distance. I’m in the background. That’s my coaching style and relationship with my sons now.”
Based on his father’s advice, Son does not intend to get married until after his playing career is over. Woong-jung says this kind of discipline is a big reason why his son has been so successful: “There are seductive elements. You need to have a mind of steel to cut out those unimportant and distracting elements in order to succeed.”
Woong-jung still works with Son on specific aspects of the game, encouraging him to practise certain things if he feels they need improving. But much of his role nowadays is psychological, ensuring Son never gets either complacent or too big for his boots. “Make sure you stay humble and don’t get drunk off the power and fame,” Woong-jung tells him. He subscribes to a widespread belief in Korea that 70 per cent of one’s life is luck, with only 30 per cent about talent.
This determination to keep Son humble is perhaps part of the reason he said last month that he doesn’t consider him to be world-class.
And Woong-jung doubles down on this position now, shaking his head vigorously when the question is put to him.
“I maintain that stance,” he says. “Personally, I hope and pray on an individual level after every training session and match that Son improves his skills by 10 per cent.
“What I define as world-class is very narrow. If you’re going to label someone as world-class, it shouldn’t be used lightly. You can’t just be subbed off, or used for certain domestic leagues or cups. You should be used in every match, and people should admit you should be used for every match. That’s how I see the definition of world-class.”
Woong-jung says Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo can be put in that category; and on whether Son can get there says, “he puts in a lot of effort, so I always hope so”.
Having travelled to Seoul for Tottenham’s pre-season game on Wednesday against a Team K League all-star squad, Woong-jung is not sticking around for the friendly against Sevilla tomorrow (Saturday). He is flying back to London today to get their London house ready ahead of the new season and think about what Son needs to work on from Wednesday’s game, in which he scored twice during Spurs’ 6-3 win.
Son’s journey from Chuncheon to the Champions League may have transformed him into a global superstar, but Woong-jung doesn’t think that much has changed at all: “At the very beginning when I was coaching Heung-min, he was very happy. And during the hard times, he was still very happy. Right now, he’s happy playing football and will be in the future.”
After a pause, Woong-jung says, as if speaking to his son: “I think that when I first saw you as a kid, I saw you with just a football; and now when I see you as a professional player, I see you with just a football.”