Heung-Min Son: The Smiling Superstar of MLS

Heung-Min Son knows exactly who he is supposed to be.

“The nice guy,” as Ashley Westwood calls him. The smiling superstar. The player who carries a continent’s expectations and still finds time to sign every shirt, pose for every photo, answer every question.

For South Korea, he is an icon. For Asia, a blueprint. For everyone else, he is the Tottenham forward who turned himself into one of the game’s elite, then crossed the Atlantic as the face of LAFC and, increasingly, of MLS itself.

That kind of status doesn’t come without a cost. This summer was a reminder.

The weight of a continent

Son arrived at the World Cup on a scoring drought and left it without a goal, South Korea tumbling out in the group stage. He started the decisive final game on the bench. When it was over, he spoke of winning back the hearts of his people, of doing whatever it took.

This is a player sitting on 56 goals for his country, just two shy of Cha Bum-kun’s revered record. Those numbers are why the spotlight never leaves him. They are also why, eventually, he had to learn how to live inside that light.

He chose honesty.

For most of his adult life, the world has demanded near-perfection from him. He knew he could not be that. What he could be, relentlessly, was himself.

"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."

That is the version of Son MLS has signed: not just the goalscorer, but the ambassador. In this league, a player of his size is not simply a No. 9 or a wide forward. He is a handshake, a billboard, a walking press conference.

Son has chosen to lean into it.

"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."

Back to being 16

In Charlotte this week, that distance almost disappeared. Thousands saw him up close, and he made the look worthwhile.

He could easily have rolled his eyes at the demands of All-Star week. The travel. The timing. The endless obligations. He did mention them. He also mentioned the fear that someone might get injured in what is, at its core, an exhibition.

The complaints didn’t last long. They rarely do with him. Very quickly, the smile took over and the tone changed.

"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."

Of those human beings in MLS All-Star colors, none shone brighter once the ball finally rolled.

The MLS side fell behind inside 10 minutes. The game needed a jolt. Son provided it, twice, scoring twice in three minutes before departing in the 35th minute. His cameo was short, ruthless and decisive. He left with the game’s MVP award.

"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 crowd got its show. No one got hurt. Above all, it felt fun.

"Having this experience is once in a lifetime," Son 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."

The nice guy, up close

For many of those “amazing players,” the honor felt mutual.

Some had chased his shadow before. Others only knew him from television. All wanted to share a dressing room with him at least once.

Westwood, who spent years in the Premier League, was happy to be on the right side of him.

"He scored a goal against us when I was at Burnley," Westwood recalled. "He ran through the whole team."

That goal has become part of Son’s legend in England: the mazy run, the calm finish, the inevitable smile. That smile can infuriate defenders, or disarm them. It rarely feels smug. There is little malice in Son, except in the way he strikes a football.

That mix of edge and warmth drew his All-Star teammates toward him. Tim Ream, another veteran of Premier League duels with Son, enjoyed finally lining up alongside him. Thomas Muller, one of the other heavyweights in the squad, quickly turned their reunion into a comedy routine.

"We always try to say nice things in front of the camera," Muller said with a laugh, "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."

On the training pitch, Son and Muller both slipped naturally into leadership roles. When the first session began with a hint of awkwardness — strangers in the same shirt, unsure of the dynamic — it was Son who started cracking jokes, loosening shoulders, breaking the ice.

"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”

At one point, a reporter tried to poke a hole in the myth. Was there anything, any game or competition, where he believed he could beat all of his All-Star teammates?

"Nothing," he says. "I'm bad at everything."

It was an obvious lie, delivered with a straight face and a familiar grin. Son is very good at a lot of things. The goals, the runs, the movement — they speak for themselves. So does the way he carries himself.

More than anything, he is good at being who he is, without the edges sanded off. Nobody else could quite pull off this particular combination of superstar and everyman.

In Charlotte, he did almost everything that was asked of him. He sat through every media obligation. He smiled from every billboard. He mingled with teammates, braved the rain-delayed Skills Challenge, and when the match finally arrived, he did the one thing he always seems to do: he changed it.

Behind the cameras and the commitments, the core of him has not shifted. The stages are bigger now, the stakes higher, the audiences wider. The feeling is the same.

"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 Wednesday night, minutes after the final whistle, while teammates lingered on the pitch and soaked up the applause, Son was already gone. Whisked away, bound for Los Angeles, onto the next game, the next moment, the next obligation.

One day, the obligations will stop. The cameras will move on. The spotlight will find someone else.

As long as the ball is rolling, though, you get the sense that the smile isn’t going anywhere.