May 17, 2025
A huge sense of relief washed over me. The exhaustion I have felt the last few weeks traveling back and forth from the United States to S. Korea, and then the back and forth travel between Seoul and Changwon dissipated at the sound of the buzzer.
The voice of the LG Sakers, Lee Gyu-Rae, officially and happily announces the Changwon LG Sakers the 2024-2025 KBL Champions.
Yang Junseok throws the ball into the air. Everyone rushes to the court to celebrate. Joy.
The go-to soundrack of championships, Queen’s We are the Champion, is blared through the speakers, and I sing along, even if out of tune:
“We are the champions, my friends
And we’ll keep on fighting ’til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
‘Cause we are the champions of the world.”
Joy.
Team interpreter Kim Yong Guk runs and jumps like a young boy excited to open presents on Christmas morning. Joy.
Coach Cho Sanghyun, overwhelmed with emotion, cries. Joy.
Darryl Monroe hugs and cradles the trophy like a baby. Joy.
Carl Tamayo crouches down on the court and then gives thanks to God. Joy.
Assem Marei dances. Definitely joy.
I felt so happy for the team that I have fallen in love with the last two seasons.
But my happiness level for the team does not compare to the level I have for the Sebaragi, especially long-time fans who have faithfully waited since 1997 to experience LG’s first ever KBL championship.
The sea of yellow, who cheered and chanted their hearts out in all the games, were wiping the tears streaming down their faces. Joy.
The familiar music usually played in Changwon Gymnasium plays in SK’s gymnasium. Fans cheer, chant, and sing until almost an hour past the end of the game.
Even as a foreign fan outside looking in, I celebrate with them. The language may be a barrier, but the love of basketball and the Changwon LG Sakers fosters a bond and camaraderie that all of us understand.
I can’t wait to do it all over again next season.
From the End of the Bench 
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