Player Spotlight: Daniel

I was born in the U.S., but I’ve lived my entire life in Korea, most of it on a small island called Jeju. I go to an international school, so I grew up moving between identities. American by passport, Korean by home, international by environment. I’ve never fully belonged to any single place. I’ve always been a mosaic of fragments pulled from different roots. And as I get older, some pieces feel like they’re starting to crack: soon, I’ll legally have to choose between American and Korean citizenship. Both come with opportunity, but both also mean giving something up. Choosing one feels like erasing the other. 

When I step onto a field or court, the noise goes away. That’s where my two worlds meet. I’m not Korean or American or trying to calculate who I should be. I just am. I fall into a kind of flowstate where I stop thinking and start moving – fast, instinctive, in rhythm with the game. I’m not translating anymore. I’m not self-conscious. I’m just playing, from the same joy I felt the first time I kicked a ball or picked up a basketball. That’s the only place I’ve found peace. I’ve been a captain multiple times, but not the loud kind. I don’t dominate the huddle or scream from the sideline every play. I’ll speak when it matters – if I need to correct something or if we need a spark, I’m there. I want to win. But what I value more is being the person my team can lean on. I’ll carry the extra load. I’ll do the hard work that doesn’t show up in the stats. That’s leadership to me. 

The hardest part of that style is that it’s easy to feel alone in it. You don’t always get the credit. You absorb other people’s mistakes. You try to carry everything quietly, and that builds up. But I also know who I am. I grew up in a culture where leadership isn’t always about being the loudest – it’s about being constant, dependable, present. I’ve brought that in the spaces I’m in.

Sports is the one place where everything inside me – my background, my confusion, my drive – comes together and finds direction. I don’t have to explain why I think differently or move differently. I just do what I’ve always done: play the game the right way, lead with action, and try to leave the field better than I found it. 

In a world where I’m always translating between identities, that’s the only place I feel fully fluent.