South Korean wrestling is heading to the 2026 Asian Games carrying something heavier than the usual expectations of a sporting powerhouse. It is carrying the weight of a lost era. Once a reliable source of Olympic and Asian Games medals, Korean wrestling is now searching for a revival, and its latest motivational weapon is as unusual as it is literal: pork.
With the Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games beginning on September 19, Korea Wrestling Federation president Kim Ik-heon has promised medal-winning wrestlers regular pork gift sets as a reward. Gold medallists will receive the packages every month for two years, while silver and bronze medallists will receive them for one year. Kim also runs a pork processing company, making the incentive both personal and decidedly unconventional.
It may sound amusing from the outside, but inside Korean wrestling there is little laughter about the team’s current predicament. South Korea’s decline has been stark. The country failed to win a wrestling medal at both the Tokyo 2020 Olympics, held in 2021, and the Paris 2024 Olympics. Tokyo marked the first time since 1972 that South Korea had left an Olympics without a wrestling medal. At the 2022 Hangzhou Asian Games, Korea managed only two bronze medals, its poorest performance at the continental event in 57 years.
That history explains the emotional tone surrounding the team ahead of Aichi-Nagoya. At a press conference at the Jincheon National Training Center on August 19, head coach An Han-bong, the 1992 Olympic Greco-Roman wrestling champion, struggled to hold back tears. “We have our backs against the wall,” An said. “I hope our athletes will go out and prove that Korean wrestling is not dead,” he was quoted as saying by Yonhap. The words captured the moment. This is not simply another Asian Games campaign. For Korean wrestling, it is an attempt to prove that the sport still has a place among the country’s elite sporting traditions.
The pork incentive makes for a colourful headline, but the real story is much more serious. Korea’s wrestling problem cannot be solved by rewards after medals are won. The federation itself has acknowledged deeper issues involving athlete mentality, coaching and vested interests. A medal in Aichi-Nagoya would be valuable, but rebuilding the system is the bigger contest. When the reward comes from the federation president’s own business. Kim Ik-heon’s offer is unusual, but it is also a reflection of the urgency surrounding the team.
His company produces pork products, and the president has effectively turned his own business into an additional incentive for athletes. A gold medal will bring a monthly pork gift set for 24 months. Silver and bronze medallists will receive the reward for 12 months. For athletes preparing for a physically demanding tournament, it is certainly a practical reward. But Kim knows that food packages cannot address everything that has gone wrong.
“People in the sport have been only worried about their vested interests, instructors have been too casual in their response, and athletes have been a mess mentally,” President Kim said. “We cannot afford to just keep saying we will get back on our feet. We all have to look at ourselves in the mirror.” That admission may be more significant than the pork. It acknowledges that the federation sees the crisis as structural rather than temporary.
The team’s medal ambitions are also being tested by injuries and inexperience. Chung Han-jae, the reigning Asian Games bronze medallist in the men’s 60kg Greco-Roman category, is moving up to 67kg for the 2026 Games and is returning from a broken right elbow. Kim Min-seok, who won bronze at 130kg in Hangzhou, is also dealing with a torn pectoral muscle. Meanwhile, several of Korea’s other medal hopefuls lack significant international experience.
The federation has set an ambitious target of one gold, one silver and six bronze medals. On current evidence, that target looks more like a statement of intent than a prediction. Yet there are signs that Korean wrestling is attempting to rebuild rather than simply survive. At the 2026 Asian Wrestling Championships, South Korea did manage to put athletes on the podium, including Kwon Young-jin, who won women’s 57kg bronze.
Chung Han-jae said the team shared its coach’s objective. “I think everyone here has the same goal as our coach,” he said. “I want to win gold and show how good Korean wrestling is.” Kim Min-seok, meanwhile, has spoken about celebrating success by wrapping himself in the South Korean flag, which the wrestling team has carried to international competitions for the past two years. That symbolism matters because Korea’s wrestling story is now about restoring belief.
The Asian Games will provide the first major stage. South Korea has set an overall target of up to 45 gold medals and a top-three finish in the medal standings at Aichi-Nagoya. Wrestling is therefore being asked to contribute to a broader national sporting campaign while simultaneously attempting to rescue its own reputation.
The pork gift sets may grab the headlines, and perhaps that is not necessarily a bad thing. They provide a lighter touch to a team confronting some very serious questions. But when the first whistle blows in Japan, no wrestler will be thinking about the next delivery box. It will be evidence that the sport is not dead, just wounded, and perhaps finally ready to fight its way back.
