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Citizens of North Korea do not lead easy lives, if for no other reason than their soccer team sucks. The North Korean team has made it to the World Cup exactly two times: 1966, when they actually made the Final 8, and 2010, when they, well, did not. In their three Group Round games, the North Koreans went 0-3 and were outscored 12-1.
Upon return to their home country, no parade was waiting for the team. For one thing, nonmilitary parades are almost certainly illegal there, but also the team was a disgrace. The government was less-than-pleased with this egregious affront to the Little Oppressive Dictatorship That Could, and so they responded the only way they knew how: hours upon hours of finger-wagging and shaming.
Some family members may have been involved.
On July 2, a week after losing 3-0 to Ivory Coast, the team was put on stage at the People's Palace of Culture, in front of more than 400 spectators, for what the government called a "grand debate." Of course, it was as much a debate as when a mother "debates" her kid on whether or not they should take out the garbage. Pak Myong Chol, the country's Minister Of Sports, kicked off the festivities by giving the entire team an hours-long tongue-lashing, accusing them of failing in their "ideological struggle" against the world. They were accused of betraying their country and committing treason against the country's honorable heir, Kim Jong-Un.
Sports commentators spoke next, and since their job is to take giant steaming pisses all over athletes anyway, doing so one more time must've been a cakewalk. But that wasn't all; other athletes, from other teams that presumably didn't suck as badly as the soccer guys did, were given the opportunity to describe just how badly the team performed. And by "opportunity," the government almost certainly meant "do it or we'll force you to shoot your own children."
"And don't give us puppy dog eyes, either. You deserve this."
Then, after getting verbally beaten up time and again in front of hundreds, the players themselves were made to speak. They weren't allowed to defend themselves or anything, no. They were instead forced to criticize their coach, Kim Jong-Hun, repeatedly telling him off over just how awful of a coach he was. It was like the end of a comedy roast where the guest of honor gets to roast everybody in retaliation, only slightly less funny.
All in all, the public shaming lasted six hours. And not once did anybody address the real problem: Kim Jong-Hun had received coaching tips and tricks directly from Kim Jong-Il during games, through an invisible cell phone that Dear Leader had invented all by himself. Clearly, Jong-Il should have spent less time tinkering with ghost phones and hamburgers, and more time working on the team's striking strategy.