‘I just knew how to score goals’: Dejan Damjanović on instinct, rivalry and a life in extra time

Dejan Damjanović never resembled the prototype modern striker. He was not defined by speed, muscle or pressing. He possessed something rarer: an instinct for where goals appeared and the conviction that, when matches became hardest, he would be there throughout an extraordinary 25-year professional career.

That gift carried him from the Balkans to Korea, China and Hong Kong, producing three K League titles, induction into the K League Hall of Fame and the AFC Champions League’s all-time scoring record. It made him an Asian football legend — admired, feared and, after crossing Seoul’s great divide, debated.

Speaking to Ryan Walters on Tunnel Vision, Damjanović reflects on the teammates behind his success, the transfer FC Seoul supporters question and the misses that linger. He explains why talent is never enough, how football has changed and why, three years into retirement, he considers himself in extra time rather than beyond the game.

Editor’s note: Answers have been lightly edited for length and clarity.

If a scouting report described someone as a “Dejan-type player”, what would that mean?

He can score goals. Even near retirement, clubs called and asked whether I could find somebody like me. I knew how to score. I was always in a good position, at the right place in the right moment.

I scored some beautiful goals, but many were like Filippo Inzaghi’s: I was simply there. Even after international duty and long flights, teammates would say, “Stay there. We will bring the ball and you will score.”

Today many strikers look perfect: tall, fast, strong, six-pack, like models. Then they cannot score ten goals in a season. I had almost no muscle for 15 years and averaged close to 20. You need a striker who can score, not somebody who only looks good or runs fast. That quality is in the mind.

Has football changed since the beginning of your career?

It has changed too much. Everybody once wanted to be a number 10: the player behind the striker who could dribble, create a goal and show football’s beautiful side. Now the number 10 has disappeared. You have two number eights and a six, with everything based on running, pressing and physical preparation.

Players are under constant pressure now, but tackles were harder before because referees did not protect attacking players. Famous players can be kicked once and the opponent receives a red card and a suspension. Before, defenders could kick you. Football was different — and I think my generation enjoyed it more.

Who was the best player you faced?

People expect Zlatan Ibrahimović or Wayne Rooney, but I will say Dimitar Berbatov. Ibrahimović probably had the bigger career, but Berbatov was a magician.

I faced him for Montenegro against Bulgaria in Sofia. He looked relaxed, as if he was not doing anything, then within five minutes there would be a goal, an assist or something nobody else could produce. You felt helpless. Players such as Berbatov and Ibrahimović could walk for ten minutes because they knew they could decide everything in one moment. Berbatov’s technique, timing and quality were unbelievable.

Which FC Seoul teammate deserved more recognition?

Go Yo-han. His retired number 13 is deserved. The attention went to players such as (Mauricio) Molina and me because we scored the goals, but Go could cover four or five positions without the team feeling there was a problem.

He could play on either wing, at either full-back position or in midfield. He used both feet, ran endlessly, understood tactics and always behaved like a professional. Players behind us did everything that allowed the attackers to stay fresh for the moments around the penalty area.

That is the reality of successful teams. Goals attract attention, but players such as Go make the game easier for everybody else.

Why did you make the controversial move from FC Seoul to Suwon Samsung Bluewings?

Even years later, FC Seoul supporters still ask why I did it. I made the best professional decision for myself and my family.

I had returned from China wanting to finish my career in Korea. My family was there, my son was born there and I wanted to keep playing in the AFC Champions League. I had a problem with one person, but one person was not going to send me out of Korea.

I showed I was not too old. I played well, scored almost 40 goals for Suwon and broke the scoring record. Looking back, I believe it was the right decision for my family and career.

Do the goals you missed remain with you as strongly as those you scored?

They bother me. If you do not shoot, you cannot score. I scored many important goals, but I also missed chances that could have changed history.

In the 2008 championship final for FC Seoul, I tried to chip Suwon goalkeeper Lee Woon-jae, caught the grass instead of the ball and fell forward. We later lost the final. I also missed two chances against Petr Čech when Montenegro were chasing qualification for Euro 2012.

I cannot live with regret because I won and scored so much afterwards. But at clubs expected to become champions, the responsibility is enormous. I remember the misses because I know what those moments could have changed.

What is the biggest misconception about becoming a professional footballer?

People see a talented child and think everything is finished: he will sign a big contract and earn millions. That is the biggest lie. Talent gives you a chance and attracts attention, but it may be only 20 per cent.

Everything else is hard work, mentality, character, environment and luck. The work helps bring that luck. Many talented players live from talent for several years, become lazy and are caught by players who work harder. Then it is difficult to accept they are no longer the best.

Talent opens the door. You still have to prove and improve yourself every day.

If your career were a 90-minute match, where are you now — and who would accompany you into your dream World Cup final?

I am in extra time — around 120 plus five. I played professionally for 25 years and enjoyed every moment. Now I play amateur football and futsal, but there will be no penalties. I would miss one.

For a World Cup final against Argentina, I would walk out with my father. He put me on the pitch and loved watching me play. My parents sacrificed so much after the war in the 1990s and gave me a proper childhood without allowing me to feel their struggle.

Montenegro would win 1-0. I would score and celebrate with him. Whenever the match was hardest, I scored. That was the kind of player I was.