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Tag: Taein Chun

  • The School in Korea That Has Produced the Most MLB Players: The History of Gwangju Ilgo

    The School in Korea That Has Produced the Most MLB Players: The History of Gwangju Ilgo

    by Taein Chun

    Gwangju Jeil High School, known as Gwangju Ilgo, is located in Gwangju Metropolitan City in the southwestern region of Korea and is the school that has produced the greatest number of Major League Baseball players in the country. In the early 2000s, Jae Weong[c1]  Seo of the New York Mets and Los Angeles Dodgers, Byung-hyun Kim of the Arizona Diamondbacks and Boston Red Sox, and Hee-seop Choi of the Chicago Cubs and Los Angeles Dodgers reached the MLB stage one after another. Although the three played for different teams, they shared the distinction of being Gwangju Ilgo alumni, and they were called the Gwangju Ilgo Trio as they demonstrated the international competitiveness of Korean baseball. In the mid-2010s, Jung-ho Kang of the Pittsburgh Pirates became the first KBO hitter to move directly to MLB, opening a new path. In 2025, Kim Sung Joon signed with the Texas Rangers as the next emerging player. A total of five Gwangju Ilgo alumni have signed with MLB organizations, the most among Korean high schools. The school also ranks among the highest domestically for producing KBO league players, with 119 Gwangju Ilgo graduates appearing in first division games as of 2024.

    1924, The Spark of Anti-Japanese Spirit That Began on a Baseball Field

    Baseball at Gwangju Ilgo was not simply a sport from the beginning but a symbol of resistance and pride. The baseball team, founded in 1923, is one of the oldest in Korean high school baseball. In June of the following year, the baseball team of what was then Gwangju Higher Common School defeated a Japanese select team called Star by a score of 1 to 0 in an exhibition match. In colonial Korea, the victory of Korean students over a Japanese team was a rare moment of national joy. The field filled with cheers as players and spectators celebrated together, shouting manse. The atmosphere changed abruptly when Star’s manager, Ando Susumu, stormed onto the field in protest, causing chaos as spectators and players clashed, and the Japanese cheering section also joined. Japanese police intervened, and Ando claimed that he had been struck in the forehead by a spike, identifying nine Gwangju players as the attackers. They were immediately detained. Outraged students launched a schoolwide strike that lasted three months. This incident marked the first organized student protest against colonial rule and served as a catalyst for the 1929 Gwangju Student Independence Movement. A monument to the movement still stands on the school grounds. Before national tournaments, Gwangju Ilgo players bow their heads before the monument, renewing their resolve never to give up. This tradition grew into the team’s philosophy, and their strong fundamentals and concentration reflect this spirit.

    Gwangju Ilgo students reenacting the starting point of the Gwangju Student Independence Movement

    1980, The Silent Time That Baseball in Gwangju Protected

    If Gwangju Ilgo in the 1920s contained an anti-Japanese consciousness, then its baseball in the 1980s walked alongside the era of democratization. In the spring of 1980, citizen protests for democracy against the military regime took place in Gwangju. This event, which is called the May 18 Gwangju Democratization Movement, became a major turning point in modern Korean history. At the time, some Haitai Tigers players were still students, and that generation experienced up close the confusion and sacrifice that engulfed the entire city. The atmosphere of that time, when soldiers fired guns at citizens, left a deep impression on the team’s attitude. The more their home city, Gwangju, fell into turmoil, the more the Haitai Tigers players banded together and comforted the hearts of citizens with strong teamwork and hustle play. Former Haitai Tigers player Chae-geun Jang was in Gwangju on May 18. He remembers it as follows. “There were helicopters, soldiers, and the sound of gunfire. At night, we turned off the lights and stayed quiet. I even remember seeing bodies on the street.” Jang said that when May came, fans and players naturally spoke about those memories. For several years afterward, due to political instability, home games were not held in Gwangju around May 18. The government, concerned about large crowds in the Gwangju area around the May 18 memorial, requested that the Korea Baseball Organization adjust its schedule. As a result, throughout the 1980s, the Haitai Tigers had to play games in other regions around May 18. Only in 2000, the twentieth anniversary of the democratization movement, was a home game in Gwangju finally held again on May 18.

    In 1986, the military regime instructed the KBO to move the May 18 game in Gwangju to another region

    Even so, Haitai did not waver. Beginning with their first Korean Series championship in 1983, they went on to win four consecutive titles from 1986 to 1989, five championships in the 1980s, and four more in the 1990s, establishing what came to be called the Haitai dynasty. At the center of this dynasty were core players from Gwangju Ilgo such as Dong-yeol Sun, Lee[c1]  Kang-chul Lee, and Jong-beom Lee. With solid fundamentals and concentration as their weapons, they led the team and helped raise the overall standard of Korean professional baseball. In this way, baseball in Gwangju took root as a source of regional pride.

     

    The Characteristics and Development Environment of the Gwangju Region

    The intense baseball passion in Gwangju began during the golden age of the Haitai Tigers in the 1980s and 1990s. Haitai’s repeated championships became a source of pride for the region, and baseball took firm root as Gwangju’s representative sport. From this period on, parents increasingly tried to raise their children as baseball players, and Gwangju came to be recognized as a city where one could succeed through baseball. Gwangju is a mid-sized city with a population of around 1.4 million. In general, in a city of this size in Korea, maintaining elementary, middle, and high school baseball teams in a stable way is difficult, but Gwangju is an exception. Baseball teams at schools across the region operate on a steady basis, and youth baseball teams are also active. This environment has led to a youth baseball culture in which many players set Gwangju Ilgo as their target school. In addition to Gwangju Ilgo, there are other prestigious baseball schools in the city,such as Jinheung High School and Dongseong High School, the former Gwangju Commercial High School. These schools also have experience winning national tournaments, but in terms of the concentration of player resources and students who hope to advance, Gwangju Ilgo stands at the top. Former KBO technical committee chair In-sik Kim evaluated the situation by saying that while Busan divides its talent between Kyungnam High and Busan High, in Gwangju, the player pool is concentrated at Gwangju Ilgo. Gwangju Ilgo recruits players not only from Gwangju but from all across South Jeolla Province, and promising prospects from middle schools in the area, such as Mudeung Middle School and Chungjang Middle School, as well as nearby cities including Naju and Suncheon, also join the program. As a result, internal competition becomes very intense, and players who pass through that competition show a high level of fundamentals, physical conditioning, and game focus.

    Founding members of the Haitai Tigers

    Industrialization and economic growth in Korea have taken place mainly in the capital region, meaning Seoul and Gyeonggi, and in the Gyeongsang region, including Busan, Daegu, Ulsan, and the surrounding provinces. In contrast, the Honam region has had a relatively weaker economic base. Because of this, baseball has been seen as a realistic career path through which one can raise social status by effort and performance. In such an environment, when parents made decisions about their children’s future, they often favored sports, especially baseball. This culture has continued across generations up to the present. Gwangju Ilgo still supports the roots of Korean baseball today. Even as generations change, the philosophy of valuing fundamentals and mental strength has not changed. From its founding in 1923 to MLB advancement in 2025, Gwangju Ilgo has been both the place that has created the present of Korean baseball over a century and the site where its future is being prepared.

  • Players Are Workers Too: Breaking the Silence and Speaking About Rights

    Players Are Workers Too: Breaking the Silence and Speaking About Rights

    by Taein Chun

    MLB fans are familiar with the MLBPA. Strikes, negotiations, and collective action are deeply etched into the history of American sports. However, in Korean professional baseball (KBO), player rights were long treated as a taboo. Players were stars, yet at the same time they were almost like property of the club. If they spoke up, consequences awaited them. But the cries of a few players eventually began to change history.

    Dong-won Choi: The First Voice for Player Rights

    In the 1984 Korean Series, Lotte Giants ace Dong-won Choi led the team to victory in four out of five games. He was the hero of Busan and a symbol of Korean baseball. Yet at the peak of his career, he began another fight, this time about rights. At that time, Korean players were treated like the property of the club. Salaries were unilaterally dictated. If they raised objections, release or trade awaited them. Injuries were to be borne solely by the players, and there were no mechanisms to guarantee life after retirement. Dong-won Choi pointed out that “players’ lives are treated too lightly” and pushed to establish a players’ association.

    Dong-won Choi, regarded as a symbol of athlete rights in Korean sports

    His demands were simple: abolish the salary cap and floor, introduce a player pension, and allow an agent system. Looking back now, they were completely reasonable proposals. But the clubs resisted, and the media denounced him: “How can a player earning hundreds of millions talk about unions?” Public opinion was cold. Choi was not alone. He sought legal counsel through acquaintances and also turned to Jae-in Moon, who was working as a labor lawyer in Busan at the time. Though he would later become President of South Korea, back then he was a young lawyer defending workers’ rights. This scene shows how unfamiliar and even dangerous the idea of “players are workers too” was in Korean society at the time.

    President Jae-in Moon encouraging Soo-won Choi, the younger brother of the late Dong-won Choi and a professional umpire (2017)

    However, without institutional support, the attempt could not last long. The price was harsh. He was traded overnight, from the symbol of Busan to Samsung. Everyone knew it was retaliatory, but there was no official explanation. Later he said, “Players are workers too. But I was too far ahead of my time.” His challenge ended in frustration, but it was the first voice ever raised in Korean baseball. Just as Curt Flood fought a lonely battle against the reserve clause in MLB, Dong-won Choi planted the seed in Korea.

    The Players’ Association: From Frustration and Turmoil to Recognition

    The seed planted by Choi did not die out. In the 1990s, Dong-yeol Sun and Sang-hoon Lee attempted to reestablish a players’ association. But faced with the wall of the clubs and the absence of legal structures, they ultimately failed. Still, traces remained, the growing recognition that “rights can be discussed.” In the winter of 1999, stars including Jun-hyuk Yang took the lead. The movement to form a players’ association led to the inaugural general meeting in early 2000, but due to lack of preparation and internal conflict, it fell into chaos. The KBO declared it would release as many as 75 players to stop the movement. The secretary-general at the time even said in an interview, “The league will function without those players.” But such pressure only backfired. Player rights were no longer an internal issue but a matter of public debate.

    The second attempt, made after the 2000 season, was different. They emphasized procedure and strengthened internal representation. The first president was Jin-woo Song, a veteran pitcher from Hanwha. He is the all-time wins leader in Korean professional baseball. The fact that such a legend stood at the forefront showed that the players’ association was no longer just a minority voice but an institution representing the entire league. With the support of civil society and public opinion, the players’ association was finally recognized by the KBO in January 2001.

    January 22, 2000, Launch of the Professional Baseball Players Association

    But recognition did not mean stability. Core players such as Jun-hyuk Yang, Hae-young Ma, Jung-soo Shim, and Ik-sung Choi had to endure retaliatory trades and disadvantages. The history of player rights in Korean baseball is one of institutional recognition accompanied by simultaneous suppression. In 2009, six players from Hyundai Unicorns were declared free agents for participating in players’ association activities. This time, even players who had not been involved in the association sent letters of protest to media outlets. “This is too much.” The issue of rights grew from the concern of a few to that of the entire community.

    This scene overlaps with MLB history. In the 1960s and 1970s, when Marvin Miller led the MLBPA as its first full-time executive director, it was the same. His leadership earned the trust of the players, and through strikes and negotiations he secured collective bargaining rights. The moment Jin-woo Song became the face of the Korean players’ association resembles the moment in the United States when Miller brought the MLBPA into the institutional mainstream.

    Player Protection: Voices Rise Again

    Ik-sung Choi was one of the players who stood at the very front during the establishment of the players’ association. But the cost was severe. Due to a retaliatory trade, he had to leave his team overnight. Though he continued playing through frustration, he eventually retired. Many players, bearing similar wounds, chose silence, but he kept speaking. Even after retirement, he did not stop. He founded the Sports Athlete Protection Research Institute and in 2024 held Korea’s first-ever Player Protection Forum. Active players like Kyung-min Heo of Doosan and Young-pyo Ko of KT stood on stage alongside retired players such as Soo-chang Shim and Dae-eun Lee. It was also symbolic that the players’ association and the retired players’ association participated together. In the past, such a coalition would have been unthinkable.

    The First Sports Player Protection Forum in Korea (2024)

    At the forum, topics such as injury compensation, post-retirement life, and the power imbalance between clubs and players were openly discussed. These were once conversations reserved for barrooms, but now they were addressed in institutional language before the media and the fans. MLB fans would find this scene familiar as well. When Curt Flood fought against the reserve clause, he was completely isolated. But his sacrifice became the starting point for major league free agency, and Marvin Miller institutionalized it through the MLBPA. The way Ik-sung Choi expanded his personal wounds into intergenerational and collective solidarity through the forum after retirement mirrors that very process.

    And he did not stop. Through the institute he established, he also joined hands with the Korean Professional Football Players Association, expanding solidarity beyond baseball to other sports.

    The Message Left for Korean Baseball

    The protection of player rights in Korean baseball started late and has followed a difficult path. The challenge of Dong-won Choi against club abuse of power, the collective strength that brought the players’ association into the institutional sphere, and the return of Ik-sung Choi who organized Korea’s first Player Protection Forum, all these steps have formed today’s movement.

    Yet even now in Korea, players are often seen not as “workers” but as “independent contractors.” Criticism persists over whether well-paid stars have the right to speak of rights. But the essence of rights is not about income level. The right to be respected in the workplace and to safeguard one’s body and future safely is not determined by salary scale.

    The message of Korean baseball is clear: players are workers and human beings deserving of respect. Rights do not emerge on their own. They take root only through sacrifice, solidarity, and the empathy of society. The journey for rights in Korean baseball continues to this day.

  • The Uniform of Youth: The Baseball Jacket

    The Uniform of Youth: The Baseball Jacket

    by Taein Chun

    It’s been over 40 years since professional baseball took root in Korea. It’s now gone beyond being just a sport and has deeply permeated Korean daily life and culture. Traces of baseball can be found not only in the cheers and songs at the stadium but also in everyday scenes outside the ballpark. One such example is the sight of students on university campuses wearing matching jackets as a group. This jacket, called the “gwajam,” actually originated from the “baseball jacket,” and today it has become the uniform of youth. More than just a fashion item, this jacket has found its place in Korean society. But how did it get there?

    A Tradition Born with the Harvard Baseball Team

    The roots of the baseball jacket trace back to 19th-century American college baseball traditions. At the time, Harvard’s baseball team awarded its starting players sweaters embroidered with the school’s initials. These were known as letterman sweaters. They weren’t just for warmth, they were symbols of honor, proof of one’s baseball skill and achievement.

    Over time, the tradition evolved into a more practical jacket: wool for the body, providing warmth, and leather for the sleeves, offering durability against friction and wind. This combination was perfect for athletes braving cold weather on the field. At the same time, the two-tone design of wool and leather created a bold look that expressed school colors and identity. With its blend of function and symbolism, the “varsity jacket” became an iconic symbol of American college sports.

    Early Harvard baseball team in the 19th century

    The Birth of the “Baseball Jacket” in Korea

    This jacket entered Korea in the 1980s, coinciding with the launch of professional baseball. The two-tone design of wool body and leather sleeves resembled the thick warm-up jackets worn by players in the dugouts. In fact, players from the MBC Blue Dragons, one of the founding teams, were often seen wearing such jackets with their blue uniforms. This became a familiar sight to fans.

    When combined with the popular image from American dramas and movies, “baseball teams wear varsity jackets,” Koreans naturally began calling this unfamiliar jacket yagujamba (baseball jacket). Unlike its difficult English name, the simple and catchy Korean nickname stuck instantly with the public.

    MBC Blue Dragons’ trademark baseball jacket, 1987

    Baseball jacket worn by youth in the drama Reply 1988

    From Campus to “Gwajam”

    By the late 1990s, university sports teams and clubs began adopting baseball jackets as group uniforms. It’s said that Seoul National University’s rugby team was the first to make them, which is often cited as the origin of the Korean-style gwajam (short for “gwahak jamba,” or “department jacket”).The trend soon spread to academic departments, and the naming system took hold: school/department name on the front, and name/student ID/graduation year on the back. So widespread was the practice that almost every Korean university student came to own at least one. More than showing belonging, gwajam became a symbol of youth itself, carrying memories of that time.

    Matching gwajam, the uniform of youth

    Over time, the gwajam branched out into more variations beyond the original baseball jacket: long padded coats for winter, hoodies for mobility, and custom jackets for individuality. Though the forms changed, the core remained the same: wearing the same jacket together to affirm belonging and share memories. Just as baseball teams express identity through uniforms, the gwajam became another kind of uniform showcasing the collective bonds of students.

    Another Legacy Left by Baseball

    In the U.S., the varsity jacket symbolized the achievements of outstanding athletes. In Korea, however, the gwajam was reborn as an expression of group solidarity. Though its direct link to baseball seems small, the survival of the name “baseball jacket” owes much to the cultural symbolism of professional baseball in Korea.

    Baseball did not end at the stadium. Its name carried over into campus life, becoming part of the landscape of youth. Years later, when one pulls out a gwajam from the closet and wears it again, the cheers, laughter, and time spent with friends come rushing back.The name borrowed from baseball isn’t just a label, it’s proof that Korean baseball culture has deeply embedded itself beyond the game, into everyday life and memories of youth. That’s why even today, the baseball jacket remains the uniform of youth, a testament to the enduring power of baseball culture.

  • ‘Tibucil’ is the barometer of Korean baseball’s popularity

    ‘Tibucil’ is the barometer of Korean baseball’s popularity

    by Taein Chun

    The SPC–KBO Collaboration: The Birth of KBO Bread

    To gauge the popularity of professional baseball in Korea, you don’t have to rely only on stadium attendance or TV ratings. Just look at the little stickers hidden inside convenience-store bread packs, known as “띠부씰 (Tibucil).” Short for “떼었다 붙이는 스티커 (tear-and-stick stickers),” the term has long been a pop-culture symbol linking generations and industries. Today, it also serves as a barometer of baseball’s popularity.

    The Seeds of a Fan Culture

    The Tibucil craze began in the late 1980s, when stickers featuring celebrities or cartoon characters were slipped inside bread packaging. Kids swapped them during school breaks. In 1999, 국찐이빵 (Gukjin Bread), modeled after comedian Kim Guk-jin, and 찬호빵 (Chan-ho Bread), named for MLB pitcher Park Chan-ho, sold 600,000–700,000 packs per day, sparking a nationwide boom. In the 2000s, 포켓몬빵 (Pokémon Bread) pushed sticker collecting to its peak.

    That generation of elementary school collectors are now thirty- and forty-somethings with spending power, sharing the habit anew with their children.

    Gukjin Bread (left) and Chan-ho Bread (right)

    KBO League Joins In: The Arrival of KBO Bread

    In spring 2025, this collecting culture fused directly with the KBO League. SPC Samlip launched “크보빵 (KBO Bread),” created with nine clubs and stuffed with 215 random baseball Tibucil across ten product types. The design encouraged fans to hunt down “내 팀, 내 선수 (my team, my player).”

    The craze was instant. One million packs sold in just three days, and 10 million in 41 days, matching the blistering pace of Pokémon Bread’s 2022 revival. The sales surge coincided with KBO’s record 10 million spectators in 2024, and projections of 12 million in 2025. Stadium fever spilled over directly into Tibucil mania.

    From Stickers to Baseball Culture

    The KBO Bread phenomenon soon moved beyond limited-edition stickers. In May 2025, SPC released a follow-up line, “모두의 크보빵 (Everyone’s KBO Bread),” featuring 180 stickers of team uniforms and 26 of national-team uniforms.

    The concept expanded, too. Popular “야푸 (yagu food / baseball food)” like chicken, nachos, and burritos were reimagined as bread and snacks: 끝내기 홈런 미트 부리또 (Walk-off Home Run Meat Burrito), 몸 쪽 꽉찬 양념치킨볼(Inside Fastball Spicy Chicken Balls), 4-6-3 카라멜 땅콩 베이스 샌드 (4-6-3 Caramel Peanut Base Sandwich). Product names themselves echoed baseball lingo, heightening fan engagement.Thus, what began as a small sticker evolved into an experience spanning culture, food, and merchandise, keeping baseball’s momentum burning.

    Everyone’s KBO Bread, released in February 2025

    Connecting Stadiums and Convenience Stores

    From the start, KBO Bread became a central marketing tool. Between March 20 and April 21, 2025, SPC ran a “크보빵띠부씰 드래프트 이벤트 (KBO Bread Tibucil Draft Event)”: post your sticker with hashtags #크보빵 and #띠부씰드래프트 on social media for chances to win a pure-gold baseball, iPad Mini, national-team uniforms, team goods, or ballpark tickets.

    Follow-up campaigns tied to 모두의 크보빵 (Everyone’s KBO Bread) included photo contests and “도감 완성 (album completion)” challenges. Convenience stores near stadiums handed out stadium-exclusive stickers. Clubs devised their own twists. The Hanwha Eagles offered the fiery 이글이글 핫투움바 브레드 (Eagle-Hot Ttuk-Ttu-mba Bread), NC Dinos sold 공룡알 흑임자 컵케이크 (Dinosaur Egg Black Sesame Cupcakes).

    This spurred a lively ecosystem: buying bread at stores, swapping duplicates online or at meet-ups, and filling feeds with proof photos and unboxing videos. Rare Tibucil fetched premiums many times over retail. Much like MLB baseball cards, but in Korea, more entwined with everyday life.

    A Sudden End After 73 Days

    But after just 73 days, the KBO Bread boom came to a halt. The reason: an industrial accident at SPC’s Siwha factory and the resulting boycott.

    SPC had already faced scrutiny after repeated workplace accidents, including the 2022 death of a 23-year-old female worker caught in bakery machinery. When another accident struck a production site in spring 2025, boycott calls surged. SPC halted production to stem the backlash, and the product disappeared.Scarcity drove prices sky-high. A Do-young Kim national-team sticker resold for ₩15,000, a Hyun-jin Ryu for ₩13,000, five to ten times retail. Ironically, the discontinuation only intensified the collector craze, birthing a new “단종템 프리미엄 (discontinued-item premium)” culture.

    Photo of KBO Bread Tibucil stickers

    What Tibucil Teaches About Korean Baseball

    The Tibucil boom revealed three lessons for Korean baseball:

    1. An affordable gateway. For under ₩2,000, kids could “own” their team or player, lowering the entry barrier compared to pricier caps or jerseys.
    2. An online–offline bridge. Though sold in convenience stores, Tibucil extended naturally into social media, secondhand markets, and stadium exclusives.
    3. A real-time popularity index. Sticker trade velocity and prices quickly signaled which players and teams were hot, providing insights for marketers.

    Even though KBO Bread are gone for now, the message is clear: small collectibles, smartly tied to fandom, can expand touchpoints, blend online and offline, and serve as live metrics of buzz. One day, another little collectible might just set Korean baseball aflame again.