Heung-Min Son: The Nice Guy of MLS All-Star Spotlight
Heung-Min Son knows exactly who he is and exactly what people think he is.
“The nice guy,” as Ashley Westwood calls him. The smile. The bow. The handshakes. The selfies. A global superstar wrapped in the manners of the kid next door.
It has followed him from Seoul to Hamburg, Leverkusen to London, and now to Los Angeles. For South Korea, he is an icon. For Asia, an inspiration. For MLS, he is suddenly both marquee signing and walking billboard. And this summer, once again, the weight of all that attention pressed down on him.
From World Cup pain to All-Star spotlight
He arrived at the World Cup stuck in a scoring drought and left it with more questions than answers. South Korea went out in the group stage. Son didn’t score. He started the decisive final match on the bench. Afterward, he spoke of winning back the hearts of his people, a stark admission from a man who has already given his country 56 goals and countless nights of joy.
He stands two goals shy of Cha Bum-kun’s national record. He has carried Tottenham for seasons at a time. He has been the face of Asian football for the better part of a decade. That kind of spotlight rarely dims. It just keeps burning.
At some point, he realized there was only one way to live inside that glare: tell the truth about who you are.
"I'm just me," he says. "I'm not really showing up in a different way. Like we could say fake. It's just that, obviously, not every person is going to like me. Not every person is going to be a fan of mine, but I still try to be myself. I try to be humble. I try to be grateful to the people that always give me support. This is just me. I'm never showing fake in my kind of stuff."
The expectations have always been close to perfection. The reality has been something different, something more human. And that, in the end, is what has made him so compelling.
Ambassador, star, and still the kid chasing a ball
In MLS, the job description is bigger than goals and assists. A player like Son signs as a forward, a franchise face and an ambassador rolled into one. Every media hit, every podcast, every community appearance is part of the package. He has decided not to fight that.
"After all the interviews, all the podcasts," he says, "when people see me in a different direction, or people see me in different ways, it makes me happier, because it feels like the distance is a little bit closer."
Charlotte closed that distance even more. For a week, the MLS All-Star Game turned into the Heung-Min Son show. His face was on the billboards, his name on everyone’s lips, his schedule packed with obligations. He turned up to all of it.
He could have rolled his eyes at the timing, the travel, the risk. He didn’t hide that it was a grind.
The flights weren’t ideal. The calendar felt crowded. Above all, he just hoped nobody got hurt.
Then the smile returned, as it always does, and the competitor in him took over.
"It's kind of felt like back in the day when I was like 16, you know?" he says. "It's like when you're in a team, or you get a call up with the national team, and a bunch of random guys are just in there in the camp. Then you just have to know each other. Obviously, there are some big, big names here, but it's not different. We are just all the same: human beings."
The most famous of those human beings happened to wear MLS All-Star colors.
Two goals, three minutes, one MVP
When the match finally arrived, Son reminded everyone why he occupies that rarefied space. The MLS All-Stars fell behind inside the opening 10 minutes. The crowd had barely settled. The game needed a jolt.
The pressure finally told.
Son struck twice in three minutes, turning the scoreline and the mood. By the 35th minute he was done for the night, withdrawn after delivering the show everyone had come to see. The MVP award followed.
"He's an unbelievable player," said teammate Hany Mukhtar. "He's a world-class player for a reason. He shows it every week, and we all know how good he is. We see it in training, and I'm not surprised."
Mission accomplished. Son got his goals. The fans got their spectacle. No one limped off. The week ended with a trophy in his hands and a grin on his face.
"Having this experience is once in a lifetime," he says. "I think it is worth it. I try to enjoy this moment and be grateful, as I always say. Getting invited to this All-Star Game, it's not everyone getting it, so I'm very grateful. I'm having these amazing players next to me, and we're playing together. I think it's a huge honor for me."
For many of those “amazing players,” the honor felt very much the other way around.
The nice guy everyone wants to play with
Some of his All-Star teammates had chased him in the Premier League. Some had only seen him on television. All wanted to share a dressing room with him, even for a few days.
Westwood knew what it was like to be on the wrong end of a Son moment.
"He scored a goal against us when I was at Burnley," Westwood recalled. "He ran through the whole team."
That goal, that run, that smile at the end of it. For opponents, it can be maddening. You get twisted inside out, then he beams at you as if you’ve just played a friendly in the park. There is no malice in him, only in the strike of his right foot.
So the All-Stars gravitated toward him. Tim Ream, who had marked him often in England, relished finally being on the same side. Thomas Muller, another giant of the modern game, slipped easily into the banter.
"We always try to say nice things in front of the camera," Muller joked, "but on Saturday he comes with LAFC to Vancouver. I don't know, maybe he's faking being nice to me!
"His German language is really, really good, and, for sure, he knows a little bit about life in Germany. We talk about the good old times, and also as a type of player, we have a good understanding of each other."
Son, like Muller, took on the role of leader without needing an armband. When the first All-Star training session started with a touch of awkwardness, unfamiliar faces shuffling around, it was Son who broke the ice. Jokes, little comments, that easy smile. The tension dropped. The group loosened.
"Listen, when he was in England, he was always the smiling character, the nice guy," Westwood says. "He always had time for you, and he's exactly the same here. He's just him."
“I’m bad at everything” – and brilliant at being Son
At one point, a reporter tried to drag a bit of bravado out of him. Was there anything he could beat all of his All-Star teammates at? Any game, any competition?
"Nothing," he said. "I'm bad at everything."
Nobody in the room believed him. The evidence of the previous 90 minutes said otherwise. He is good at a lot of things. Finishing. Running in behind. Reading space. Leading quietly. Carrying a league’s marketing campaign on his shoulders without losing himself.
More than anything, he is good at being Heung-Min Son.
Throughout his stay in Charlotte, he seemed to be everywhere. On the training pitch in the rain-delayed Skills Challenge. On stage at events. In front of microphones. In the dressing room. On the giant screens ringing the stadium. Then, when the whistle blew, he did what he always does: changed the game.
Behind all of it, the same core remained. The stages have grown grander, the responsibilities heavier, but the feeling he chases has never really changed.
"I love the ball," he told reporters. "I love the fans, and I love my teammates. From falling in love when I was a child, just chasing the ball, kicking the ball, and celebrating with the boys. I think it's probably what I love most. When I have stress, I always play football. That's why I'm here: I'm enjoying the sport.
"Until the end," he adds. "Until the end, I think, probably, it's the only love that I do."
On to the next game
On Wednesday night, the All-Star festivities ended with a familiar scene. The final whistle blew, his teammates lingered on the pitch, soaking it in. Son didn’t.
He was already being ushered away, heading for the airport, bound back to Los Angeles. Another match. Another obligation. Another stadium waiting to see that smile in person.
One day, the cameras will move on. The interviews will stop. The schedule will clear. He knows that.
He just has no desire to hurry that day along. As long as there is a ball at his feet and a crowd to share it with, Heung-Min Son will keep running, keep scoring, keep smiling.
