‘I enjoy football through the suffering’: Osmar Ibáñez and the mind of a defender

Osmar Ibáñez’s football education began in a Spanish village square, avoiding passers-by and keeping the police from confiscating the ball. It carried him across continents and into successful teams throughout Asia.

From Buriram United to FC Seoul, the defender accumulated trophies, captaincy and a reputation built as much upon intelligence as physical authority. He could strike from distance – one famous goal against Juventus follows him – but he measures football through positioning, discipline, sacrifice and the connections that allow a team to function at elite level.

Speaking to Ryan Walters on Tunnel Vision, Osmar explains why pressure made him stronger, what supporters do not see behind a professional performance and why the collective comes first. He reflects on the contradiction behind his greatest goal, the importance of his wife throughout a two-decade relationship and the satisfaction he finds not in laughter, but in football’s struggle, exhaustion and mental challenge.

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

What is your earliest football memory?

It is not even a match. I remember playing in the park and the main square of my small village, trying not to hit people and keeping the police from confiscating our ball.

Those moments were happier and probably more influential than any game I played later. Sometimes I still speak to those friends or we walk through the square and look at each other when a ball comes past.

I would go back to when nothing mattered. You had your friends and chose who you wanted to be: “I’m this team. Look, I’m Zidane.” My first favourite was Roberto Carlos, then Zidane. I grew up supporting Real Madrid, but becoming a professional turned me into a football supporter. I wanted good teams to win.

Who was the best player you faced?

Santi Cazorla. I faced strong Real Madrid teams, but Cazorla stood out when I played against Málaga.

He was small, with enormous quality, and the first player I saw use both feet equally well. We joked that using both equally meant being equally bad with each. Not with him. He could do things with the ball that would make a normal person trip and fall.

It was not only his technique. You could see that he understood the game perfectly: his positioning, timing and ability to recognise each situation. That combination made him special.

You loved playing in front of Urawa Red Diamonds’ supporters. What did that pressure give you?

For me, the more pressure, the better. More supporters, more noise – just bring it on. I loved FC Seoul’s AFC Champions League matches against Urawa. Saitama Stadium was full, the chanting never stopped and the atmosphere was everything a player wants when leaving the tunnel.

Some players experience it differently, but that environment gave me energy. You could run more and feel more powerful.

Barcelona’s stadium was intimidating differently. I was 22, sitting on the bench and feeling very small. I remember thinking, “What will I do if the coach calls me?” But once I crossed the line, the pitch was my responsibility.

You said you “enjoy football through the suffering”. What does that mean?

I am happy on the pitch, but I do not enjoy football through laughing or joking. I enjoy the running, suffering, fighting and challenge. Every time the ball moves, there is a new situation to solve. There is no time to laugh because I am locked in.

That does not mean I am angry. Away from the pitch, I am relaxed. During matches and serious training, I need competition. I enjoy the tiredness, mental struggle, pressure from opponents and even the referee’s bad decisions.

Those words may sound negative, but they are not. Perhaps my position and background made me see football that way. As a central defender, you are the last line.

What do you remember about your spectacular goal against Juventus?

It was my best goal, and probably my worst decision. We were around 25 or 30 metres out, and I did not see an obvious option, so I shot.

Watching the video afterwards, I realised we were three against two. From a coach’s perspective, shooting was terrible. I should have drawn the defender forward and released a teammate. Instead, the worst decision produced the best goal of my life.

That is football’s beauty: you do not always need the correct choice. People still approach me about that goal, although after so many years at FC Seoul I wish they also remembered the 2016 title, when I was captain and we played excellent football.

What defines an “Osmar-type player”?

Good luck – training is going to be terrible. More seriously, the player must be smart. In Spain, we value what a player has in his head: what he sees and understands, not only what he can do with the ball.

He must be intelligent with and without possession. It is easy to focus on technique, but defensive work is equally important. He must also be disciplined, committed and a team player.

Football can be selfish, but on the pitch the team is everything. You need the teammates around you, just as they need you. Individual skills differ, but intelligence and understanding of the collective should remain.

What is the biggest misconception about professional footballers?

People see us for perhaps two hours each week. The match is the most important moment, but they do not see what it takes to arrive there.

There is active training and what people call invisible training: everything in your life that affects performance, condition and recovery. Supporters expect results, I understand that, but sometimes a match goes badly for reasons outside a player’s control.

It is like making content: people see the finished hour, not the work behind it. Unless somebody has been close to a professional, they may not understand the preparation and sacrifice required 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Where are you in the 90-minute match of your career, and who walks beside you into your dream World Cup final?

I am in Korean-style extra time, another ten minutes. I can feel the referee checking his watch.

My wife would walk out with me. We recently completed 20 years together, and she has been there through good times, bad times, arguments, disappointments, victories and defeats. She has listened to every football problem and should be an expert in sports psychology. We do not always want advice; sometimes we need someone to listen.

Spain would beat Argentina 3-0. Maybe I would score the opener from a set-piece, or provide an assist. One goal means suffering and 2-0 is dangerous. At 3-0, you dominate the ending and make the opponent feel they were never close.