Teqball. It was a sport I knew nothing about until athlete Lee Jun-seok became its inaugural Asian Games champion. Simply put, it is a combination of jokgu (footvolley) and table tennis. It is a sport where players spike a ball across the net onto a curved table using parts of the body other than arms and hands—primarily the feet, head, and chest. Hungary is its country of origin, and it was adopted as an official medal sport for the first time at the Nagoya Asian Games. Watching him win, my first thoughts were, "I didn't know such a sport existed," and "To think our country has an athlete even in such an unfamiliar sport." As expected, there was quite a backstory behind it. Much of it was deeply moving. My thoughts then led to: "This has a lot in common with the story of RESCENE, a girl group currently enjoying explosive popularity." An athlete and an idol group—what on earth could they have in common?
Lee Jun-seok was originally a soccer player. He wanted to become like Son Heung-min. However, after playing in the domestic fourth tier, he gave up his soccer dream. After encountering football tennis, he learned about teqball through an acquaintance in 2020. Even now it is unfamiliar, but back then it was even more obscure. There were no fellow athletes to play with, no training venues, and no equipment. On top of that, opportunities to compete in international tournaments were blocked due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

In February of this year, teqball was adopted as an official sport at the Asian Games. For Lee, it was a miracle. However, the national teqball team could not enter the Jincheon National Training Center because the sport was adopted so late. The national teqball team trained by renting an indoor jokgu court in Icheon. Far from receiving support, they had to endure the bitter sorrow of having no one even recognize them.

The group RESCENE was in a similar situation. As a so-called "small-to-medium agency idol" (belonging not to a major agency, but to a small agency whose only group was RESCENE), it was difficult to receive glamorous spotlight. For two years following their debut, they remained in obscurity. They bowed politely, greeted everyone, and handed out albums, but getting on television broadcasts was difficult. Member MAY even made a pledge: "If we enter the Melon TOP 100, I will run from Seoul to Geoje, and if we enter the TOP 10, I will swim to Chiba, Japan." That showed how desperate they were, and how difficult it was to expect such a feat.
For an athlete in an unfamiliar sport, nothing came easily. Without even a teqball table to practice on, he purchased one on his own with his mother's help. At first, he placed the table in the apartment complex where he lived to train, but that did not last long due to complaints about noise. He dragged the heavy table from underground storage rooms to empty lots, constantly moving from place to place. To make a living, he had to take a manufacturing job at a major conglomerate. Still, he never gave up on teqball for even a single moment. Working daytime shifts, he continued his training at night. When teqball was adopted as an official sport at the Asian Games, he resigned from his job. He traveled to Hungary, the birthplace of the sport, to train at his own expense. He reportedly reached out to local athletes via social media, begging them to train with him.

RESCENE did not get discouraged or slump during their days of obscurity, either. Even when initial reactions were modest, they consistently released a second mini-album, singles, and more. When songs such as "Love Attack" climbed back up the charts and I belatedly listened to their music, I was surprised. This was because they had released an unexpectedly large number of songs despite receiving little attention at the time. Beyond dedicating themselves to practice, they made every effort to make themselves known. They clung to self-produced live broadcasts and fan communication. A representative episode was Christmas Eve in 2024. With no special year-end stage or broadcast schedules, the members held a live broadcast from their practice room and dorm from night until dawn for more than six hours. Concurrent viewers numbered only in the dozens, or around 100 at most, but they conveyed their gratitude to each and every fan, crying and laughing throughout the night as they spent Christmas together.
From the group stage through the tournament, Lee Jun-seok did not drop a single set. As he advanced to the final, stories about Lee began pouring out in news articles and across social media. His story of overcoming all kinds of hardships was more than enough to move people. Then, by staging a comeback victory in the final, he added the crowning touch. The tears he shed while embracing his teammates after securing victory in the final captured all his past blood, sweat, and toil.

It was the same for RESCENE. They received the spotlight from a completely unexpected place. On a YouTube channel started by member WONI in hopes of promoting the team, fellow member MINAMI's shout of "Geoje Yaho" hit the YouTube and TikTok algorithms. Its quirky charm and lightheartedness, devoid of any discernible context, were etched into the public's mind. Prompted by this belated attention, people began asking, "Who on earth are they?" and searching for their past activities. The desperate efforts and attempts they had poured in despite receiving little attention all shone at once. Their genuine demeanor during their days of obscurity and their narrative of overcoming crises, such as a dialect controversy, with sincerity forged a strong bond with the public. "Love Attack," more than a year after its release, wrote a chart-topping legend after a reverse run. Now, popular television programs from every network are lining up to have them on.
While the efforts of Lee Jun-seok and RESCENE were crucial factors in their success, we should not merely demand blind effort from young people. There is a most important and essential common thread between the two: the presence of adults who genuinely believed in, cheered for, supported, and chased their dreams alongside them.

For athlete Lee Jun-seok, it was his mother. She readily granted her son's request to buy a table when he said he wanted to compete in a sport no one had ever heard of, even though the price of over 2 million won was a heavy burden given the family's tight finances. When he said he was quitting his stable job at a major conglomerate, rather than dissuading him, she cheered him on, saying, "If you don't do it now, you'll regret it later." And throughout this Asian Games, she prayed for her son's victory more fervently than anyone else. The moment he finally won, Lee Jun-seok's first cry was, "Mom, I won the gold medal!"

For RESCENE, it was the CEO of their agency. There is a photograph that became a hot topic: it shows the agency CEO performing a deep traditional bow to the YouTubers who helped provide the opportunity for member WONI to gain attention on YouTube. It is like a symbol of an adult who risked everything and strived desperately together with the group for their success. Such leadership by example from an adult became the foundation, cornerstone, and main pillar that enabled them to overcome the trials and tribulations of their long obscurity.
There is yet another commonality: their uncertain future. If this were a fairy tale, it would conclude with "and they lived happily ever after." But reality is different. From here on, difficulties of a new dimension—perhaps even greater hardships—await them.

With his victory, Lee Jun-seok introduced teqball to the public and generated buzz. He also secured a foothold to continue his athletic career. Even so, it is hard to expect teqball to suddenly become a popular ball sport. We have seen many sports enjoy a brief flash of popularity during the Olympics or Asian Games, only to fade from the public mind. Under dim lighting once again, he may have to wage an uphill battle, virtually blazing a trail for teqball's future on his own.

For RESCENE, too, the journey has only just begun. While they have made their name known to the public and garnered immense attention, times like this are precarious. We have seen countless instances where a single word or gesture leads to an idol's downfall, turning support and love into criticism and hatred overnight. Envy from those around them can boil over, or they can collapse under their own complacency. Above all, they must continually validate their musical achievements and worth. For a small-to-medium agency with a fragile foundation, this is no easy task.

One final commonality remains: the need for adults who will polish their value and help them shine even brighter. For Lee Jun-seok, it is now not only his mother, but also South Korea's sports community and the government that must step up as adults. They need to solidify the possibilities he painstakingly paved and turn them into tangible achievements. Building the infrastructure and systems to develop it into a grassroots sport and a promising ball event is now the responsibility of adults, including the sports community and the government.

For RESCENE to grow beyond South Korea into a global artist, and to foster a healthy ecosystem where small-to-medium agencies can grow purely through talent to become new industry giants, is likewise difficult through the efforts of an individual or an idol group alone. Establishing institutions and systems from the opening RESCENE has carved out is also a task that adults must undertake.