*This content was translated by AI.
Upon hearing the news of the death of Jang Woong, a former member of the International Olympic Committee (IOC), who was a symbol of North Korea's sports diplomacy, memories that remained on one side of the heart for a long time were quietly revived.
I have met many people over 30 years as a sports reporter, but not many people have such a strong impression and warm humanity at the same time. Despite being a sports diplomat representing North Korea, which is at odds politically and militarily, he has always been a person who has not lost his human warmth.
His first meeting was in the summer of 2002 in Monte Carlo.
At that time, an important meeting was held for inter-Korean sports exchanges a month before the Busan Asian Games, and I got the opportunity to cover the scene as a reporter for a Korean broadcaster. Sitting with IOC member Kim Un-yong, he was already a key figure in North Korea's sports diplomacy, which has a great presence on the international stage.
The first interview began in a somewhat tense atmosphere, but an unexpected scene followed the next day. I happened to run into him again on the street I found for a short break. Wearing a shirt and training pants, he looked as simple as a neighborhood neighbor. Though he did not talk for long, he laughed with human stories and pleasant jokes, not politics or ideology. At that moment, I was meeting one warm person, not 'North Korea's IOC member'.
The relationship led to an unexpected opportunity.
In 2003, I was able to visit North Korea with the performance of the Kukkiwon Demonstration Team in Pyongyang, and his consideration was behind it. He directly mentioned the names of Korean reporters who covered the Monte Carlo meeting and delivered it to us, and thanks to that, I got the opportunity to experience Pyongyang firsthand. The time I was able to see the North Korean sports scene up close remains an unforgettable memory both as a reporter and as an individual.
The second deep memory is the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics.
At that time, Korea was making all-out efforts to host the PyeongChang Winter Olympics, and he continued to communicate with the Korean side while maintaining a cautious attitude rather than expressing an official position.
I still remember eating together at a Korean restaurant in Vancouver. He, who particularly liked soybean paste stew, emptied two bowls, saying, "This is really delicious." He was at the center of international sports diplomacy, but at that moment, he remained simple and human. That was the essence of a man named Jang-woong I remember.
The 190-centimeter-tall former national basketball player has continued his active career on the international sports stage since he was elected to the IOC in 1996. In particular, he led the International Taekwondo Federation (ITF), built his own territory despite political constraints, and played an important role in conveying North Korea's voice to the international sports world.
Above all, he was an important link in inter-Korean sports exchanges.
His quiet but decisive efforts were behind the historical scenes of the two Koreas holding the Korean Peninsula flag and co-entering at several Olympics, including the dispatch of the North Korean team's cheering squad for the Busan Asian Games and Sydney, Athens, and Pyeongchang. Rather than always coming to the fore, he was the one who opened the way out of sight.
Especially when we met him again during the 2018 Pyeongchang Winter Olympics, he also carefully told us about the sports environment inside North Korea. His explanation that reporters who specialize in sports are also active in North Korea made him feel that efforts to record and deliver sports are continuing even in a limited environment. It was a moment when I realized once again that sports are a common language that connects humans beyond ideology.
Later, when I visited Pyongyang again, I asked about his news, but I heard that he was away due to his poor health. And he also resigned from the IOC in 2018, making him feel that an era is slowly ending.
Looking back, he was a person who made it possible to communicate in the language of sports on the boundary between politics and ideology. Without him, the various scenes of inter-Korean sports exchanges we remember might have been different from now.
Now he has left us, but on the bridge he has placed we are still walking towards each other. I pray for his repose from the bottom of my heart.
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*This content was translated by AI.
