CHAEHYUN
WHAT’S IT TO YA?
July 29, 2026
Chaehyun “Romance” Lim is a Korean photographer based in Vancouver whose connection to football began at a young age. After moving from Korea to Canada, the game became a way for him to remain connected to home while finding community in a new city. Through his photography and involvement in Vancouver’s growing football scene, Romance is now helping document and shape the culture surrounding the game.
We chopped it up about his earliest football memories, growing up watching South Korea, supporting the national team from across the world and experiencing their journey at the 2026 World Cup.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How did you first fall in love with football?
I’m a 2002 World Cup kid. I was in fourth grade when South Korea and Japan hosted the tournament. Even before it began, Korea was already warming up for it. The national team played friendlies against England and France, the streets were filling with people in red shirts, and it felt like the entire country was preparing for something huge.
Around that time, I became close with one of my classmates. After school, I would go to his house, and we’d spend hours playing EA Sports’ 2002 FIFA World Cup. He later got a PlayStation 2, so whenever we got tired of playing FIFA on the computer, we would switch over and play Winning Eleven 7.
Football completely took over our lives. We read World Cup books, built paper figures of the players, and used a small rubber ball to play a kind of heading volleyball in his bedroom. Once, we were taking penalties in his living room and broke the glass on one of the kitchen lights. We ended up standing there with our hands in the air as punishment.
Those are the smaller memories that happened inside my friend’s home. But when I think about the tournament itself, the first words that come to mind are pure madness, excitement and hysteria—in the best possible way. The entire country was caught up in it. I felt so much energy and emotion that summer. Even as a kid, I couldn’t stop thinking that football was going to become something important in my life.
We chopped it up about his earliest football memories, growing up watching South Korea, supporting the national team from across the world and experiencing their journey at the 2026 World Cup.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How did you first fall in love with football?
I’m a 2002 World Cup kid. I was in fourth grade when South Korea and Japan hosted the tournament. Even before it began, Korea was already warming up for it. The national team played friendlies against England and France, the streets were filling with people in red shirts, and it felt like the entire country was preparing for something huge.
Around that time, I became close with one of my classmates. After school, I would go to his house, and we’d spend hours playing EA Sports’ 2002 FIFA World Cup. He later got a PlayStation 2, so whenever we got tired of playing FIFA on the computer, we would switch over and play Winning Eleven 7.
Football completely took over our lives. We read World Cup books, built paper figures of the players, and used a small rubber ball to play a kind of heading volleyball in his bedroom. Once, we were taking penalties in his living room and broke the glass on one of the kitchen lights. We ended up standing there with our hands in the air as punishment.
Those are the smaller memories that happened inside my friend’s home. But when I think about the tournament itself, the first words that come to mind are pure madness, excitement and hysteria—in the best possible way. The entire country was caught up in it. I felt so much energy and emotion that summer. Even as a kid, I couldn’t stop thinking that football was going to become something important in my life.
What is your earliest memory of supporting the Korean national team?
One of my strongest memories from the 2002 World Cup is watching a Korea match with my family at Olympic Park in Seoul. The park was close enough to our home that we could walk there, almost like we were going on a family picnic. Looking back, I feel very lucky to have grown up near such a large public space.
Thousands of people gathered there to cheer for Korea, and as an eleven-year-old, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. I watched all kinds of emotions unfold around me—joy, tension, disappointment and relief. The World Cup wasn’t just a series of football matches. It felt like a shared national experience.
It’s funny now, but I was absolutely obsessed with Hong Myung-bo, who was the national team captain. His leadership earned him an enormous amount of respect from Korean football fans, and he was my idol. I even received his autobiography as a birthday gift.
Once, I heard he was going to play in an all-star match that started at four in the morning in Korea. I set an alarm and went to sleep with it right next to my ear. My mom found out and took the battery out while I was sleeping, so I missed the match. Back then, it wasn’t easy to find highlights afterwards, and I cried my eyes out.
There was also a new restaurant near our home that announced Hong would be holding a signing event. It was an expensive place for us, but my mom still took me there.
One of my strongest memories from the 2002 World Cup is watching a Korea match with my family at Olympic Park in Seoul. The park was close enough to our home that we could walk there, almost like we were going on a family picnic. Looking back, I feel very lucky to have grown up near such a large public space.
Thousands of people gathered there to cheer for Korea, and as an eleven-year-old, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. I watched all kinds of emotions unfold around me—joy, tension, disappointment and relief. The World Cup wasn’t just a series of football matches. It felt like a shared national experience.
It’s funny now, but I was absolutely obsessed with Hong Myung-bo, who was the national team captain. His leadership earned him an enormous amount of respect from Korean football fans, and he was my idol. I even received his autobiography as a birthday gift.
Once, I heard he was going to play in an all-star match that started at four in the morning in Korea. I set an alarm and went to sleep with it right next to my ear. My mom found out and took the battery out while I was sleeping, so I missed the match. Back then, it wasn’t easy to find highlights afterwards, and I cried my eyes out.
There was also a new restaurant near our home that announced Hong would be holding a signing event. It was an expensive place for us, but my mom still took me there.
What does the Korean national team mean to you today?
I genuinely support them. Put simply, I want them to make it happen again. To be honest, I don’t want to lose them.
I’ve worked in the Korean sports industry since 2017, and I’m also someone who truly loves football. Over the years, Korea has often followed a strange pattern. When things are going well, we sometimes find a way to trip ourselves up. But when we’re facing a real crisis, we’re also capable of coming together and finding a way through it as a team.
In the past, people often said football in Korea was something the public only cared about during the World Cup. Over the last five years or so, however, the culture surrounding the game has grown enormously.
One thing I still find disappointing is how quickly some supporters cancel Korean football and its culture whenever the team or the system lets them down. I understand why people become exhausted. There are serious issues, including problems within the structure of the game.
Despite all of that, I still love and support Korea, Korean football and the national team. Sometimes you have to start the build-up again from the back. Winning feels great, and losing hurts, but either way, they’re still our team—rain or shine.
What was it like experiencing Korea’s 2026 World Cup journey from Canada?
From the moment I decided to move to Vancouver in February 2025, I believed I would somehow see Korea play at the World Cup in North America. But as both a football supporter and a photographer, I didn’t want to simply watch from the stands. I made it my goal to cover a Korean match at the World Cup, and I spent a lot of time trying to build a realistic path towards that opportunity. Whether I was shooting the match or watching as a fan, I just wanted to experience something while the tournament was here.
If Korea had finished second in their group, there was still a possible route for me to see their round-of-32 match in Los Angeles. I had already prepared plans for the flight, hotel and ticket. Unfortunately, that opportunity never came. There was a lot of talk before the tournament about this potentially being the strongest Korean squad ever assembled, so the way the journey ended felt especially empty and disappointing.
Still, experiencing a World Cup here in Vancouver gave me a kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I imagine many Canadians experienced something similar to what I felt in Korea in 2002. Hopefully, a new generation of 2026 World Cup kids will come out of it.
I genuinely support them. Put simply, I want them to make it happen again. To be honest, I don’t want to lose them.
I’ve worked in the Korean sports industry since 2017, and I’m also someone who truly loves football. Over the years, Korea has often followed a strange pattern. When things are going well, we sometimes find a way to trip ourselves up. But when we’re facing a real crisis, we’re also capable of coming together and finding a way through it as a team.
In the past, people often said football in Korea was something the public only cared about during the World Cup. Over the last five years or so, however, the culture surrounding the game has grown enormously.
One thing I still find disappointing is how quickly some supporters cancel Korean football and its culture whenever the team or the system lets them down. I understand why people become exhausted. There are serious issues, including problems within the structure of the game.
Despite all of that, I still love and support Korea, Korean football and the national team. Sometimes you have to start the build-up again from the back. Winning feels great, and losing hurts, but either way, they’re still our team—rain or shine.
What was it like experiencing Korea’s 2026 World Cup journey from Canada?
From the moment I decided to move to Vancouver in February 2025, I believed I would somehow see Korea play at the World Cup in North America. But as both a football supporter and a photographer, I didn’t want to simply watch from the stands. I made it my goal to cover a Korean match at the World Cup, and I spent a lot of time trying to build a realistic path towards that opportunity. Whether I was shooting the match or watching as a fan, I just wanted to experience something while the tournament was here.
If Korea had finished second in their group, there was still a possible route for me to see their round-of-32 match in Los Angeles. I had already prepared plans for the flight, hotel and ticket. Unfortunately, that opportunity never came. There was a lot of talk before the tournament about this potentially being the strongest Korean squad ever assembled, so the way the journey ended felt especially empty and disappointing.
Still, experiencing a World Cup here in Vancouver gave me a kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I imagine many Canadians experienced something similar to what I felt in Korea in 2002. Hopefully, a new generation of 2026 World Cup kids will come out of it.
If you could photograph any Korean national team player, past or present, who would it be?
From the past, I would choose Park Ji-sung. He showed me that you don’t always have to be the loudest or most visible person on the pitch. If you continue doing your job and playing your own game, people will eventually appreciate and love you.
Whenever Manchester United were playing, I would check the lineup to see whether Park was starting. If he was, I’d be so excited that I could barely sleep. Whenever he touched the ball, it almost felt like I was the one receiving it. I would have loved to capture, through my own camera lens, the energy around him as he covered every part of the pitch.
I’ve already been incredibly fortunate to photograph Son Heung-min in both Los Angeles and Vancouver. If I were choosing from the current team, I’d go with Lee Kang-in and Hwang In-beom. They have very different qualities and styles, and I’ve supported both of them for a long time. I’d love to photograph them producing one of those defining performances on a major stage.
Before moving to Canada, what did you expect its football culture to be like?
I’d been fascinated by North American sports, including MLS, since I was a teenager, so I was excited to finally experience that culture in person. After arriving, however, I realized Canadian football is about much more than MLS. Leagues like the CPL and NSL are beginning to establish real roots and identities of their own.
I haven’t even been in Canada for a year and a half, but I’ve already met so many great players, supporters and friends through the game. When I first arrived in Vancouver in February 2025, I went to a Whitecaps match and met members of the Southsiders. They struck me as an incredibly passionate and welcoming group of supporters.
Every Monday, I join sessions with Sunset Beach FC. It’s a place where people from all kinds of backgrounds can connect and share the same energy through football. I’m also preparing to play in the upcoming VMSL season myself.
I’d love to spend more time having deeper conversations with people here about the game. To me, football is a language.
Photos & Interview: Tagwa Moyo
From the past, I would choose Park Ji-sung. He showed me that you don’t always have to be the loudest or most visible person on the pitch. If you continue doing your job and playing your own game, people will eventually appreciate and love you.
Whenever Manchester United were playing, I would check the lineup to see whether Park was starting. If he was, I’d be so excited that I could barely sleep. Whenever he touched the ball, it almost felt like I was the one receiving it. I would have loved to capture, through my own camera lens, the energy around him as he covered every part of the pitch.
I’ve already been incredibly fortunate to photograph Son Heung-min in both Los Angeles and Vancouver. If I were choosing from the current team, I’d go with Lee Kang-in and Hwang In-beom. They have very different qualities and styles, and I’ve supported both of them for a long time. I’d love to photograph them producing one of those defining performances on a major stage.
Before moving to Canada, what did you expect its football culture to be like?
I’d been fascinated by North American sports, including MLS, since I was a teenager, so I was excited to finally experience that culture in person. After arriving, however, I realized Canadian football is about much more than MLS. Leagues like the CPL and NSL are beginning to establish real roots and identities of their own.
I haven’t even been in Canada for a year and a half, but I’ve already met so many great players, supporters and friends through the game. When I first arrived in Vancouver in February 2025, I went to a Whitecaps match and met members of the Southsiders. They struck me as an incredibly passionate and welcoming group of supporters.
Every Monday, I join sessions with Sunset Beach FC. It’s a place where people from all kinds of backgrounds can connect and share the same energy through football. I’m also preparing to play in the upcoming VMSL season myself.
I’d love to spend more time having deeper conversations with people here about the game. To me, football is a language.
Photos & Interview: Tagwa Moyo
