CAST: Kim So-hye, Lee Sang-yub, Kim Jin-woo

DIRECTOR: Choi Sang-Yeol, Hong Eun-Mi

Adapted from the novel “Sunjeongbokseo Ikwonsuk” (순정복서 이권숙) by Choo Jong Nam, My Lovely Boxer is the story of a boxer, Lee Kwon Sook, who at age 17, was a prodigy in the sport. She suddenly went missing and left no trace of her whereabouts.

Kim Tae Young is a ruthless sports agent who entices gifted athletes into the world of sports. He quickly capitalizes on their talents, profiting immensely in a brief span before they inevitably fade away. Among his clientele is Kim Hee Won, an exceptional baseball pitcher. Distinctively, Hee Won holds a special place in Tae Young’s heart. Amidst challenges faced by Hee Won, Tae Young is entrusted with the mission to coax female boxer Lee Kwon Sook back into the boxing arena.

“My Lovely Boxer” boasts robust characters with intricate and intertwined motivations.

The premiere episode intriguingly starts by unveiling the “myth” of the boxing prodigy, LEE KWON-SOOK (portrayed by Kim So-hye). She boldly challenges and knocks out a renowned boxer during a boxing enthusiast gathering, only after hesitantly asking, “Can I really hit you?” And indeed, she delivers a powerful blow.

Kwon-sook’s quiet demeanor and absence of arrogance make her instantly endearing. She remains stoic amidst a sea of reporters post-match, leaving both the media and her opponent astounded. The drama proficiently chronicles her meteoric rise in the boxing world through a narrative montage, presenting a concise backstory. Intriguingly, Kwon-sook’s tale is presented solely through the series’ broader narrative lens. Following this introduction, she fades from the storyline — and seemingly from the boxing scene and Korea itself — making way for our main protagonist.

Our protagonist, the relentless sports agent KIM TAE-YOUNG (portrayed by Lee Sang-yub), dominates the majority of the premiere. Initially, it seems like an extended introduction, but as events unfold, it becomes clear that this detailed setup is crucial. To appreciate the depth of his subsequent encounters with Kwon-sook, it’s essential to understand Tae-young’s character and the complexities of his situation.

We first meet Tae-young as a no-nonsense agent, laser-focused on maximizing his athletes’ earnings, irrespective of the means. His empathy is noticeably absent. He deftly navigates one of his clients out of a violent predicament while squeezing the last earnings from another — a footballer on the brink of a fading career — before advising him to hang up his boots. Were it not for Tae-young’s remarkable competence and unwavering confidence, his cold demeanor could easily render him unlikable.

The narrative skillfully teeters on the edge of making us disapprove, only to reveal a completely different facet of his character as a redeeming twist.

The narrative delves deep into the bond between Tae-young and a baseball player he represents, highlighting their shared past, Tae-young’s shortcomings as his agent, and the player’s drastic actions (taken to finance his young son’s critical surgery). Tae-young’s genuine concern surfaces when he fervently defends his client and friend, revealing deep-seated emotions of pain, remorse, and culpability beneath his previously indifferent facade.

In a twist, Tae-young takes the blame for his player’s actions, landing him in the sights of the influential “chairman” of a syndicate that manipulates sports outcomes for its gain. One moment, Tae-young is engaged in a civil discourse with the gambling ring’s representative. The next, he finds himself on the verge of drowning in his bathtub, having been coerced into a debt of 2.5 million to be repaid within three months. This development considerably complicates Tae-young’s predicament.

Lee Sang-yub’s portrayal is nothing short of stellar. While I’ve always been a fan, his range in just the initial episode is commendable – transitioning from a confident and brash agent to someone visibly rattled and fearful, only to mask that turmoil once more. The scene where Tae-young, faced with threats to his mother, watches her from his car and emits a raw, heart-wrenching cry, was exceptionally moving. That moment alone would have convinced me to continue with the series, had I not been already hooked.

At last, the paths of our protagonists intersect. As the sports community in Korea fervently seeks to draw Kwon-sook out of her three-year hiatus, Tae-young, with his typical tenacity, manages to track her down swiftly. When a fan recognizes her, Tae-young, serendipitously present at the eatery, steps in to shield her (I must admit, I was utterly smitten by this gesture).

Subsequently, he hands her his business card, declaring his intent to coax her back into the boxing realm. Armed with extensive knowledge about her and her alias, he ensures she can’t evade him for long. Soon, he becomes a regular presence during Kwon-sook’s morning jogs, relentlessly trying to persuade her.

However, Kwon-sook desires a life far removed from the ring. After multiple relocations and name changes, she has found solace working at a kindergarten and has developed a fondness for the seemingly superficial son of the director, HAN JAE-MIN (portrayed by WINNER’s Kim Jin-woo). Despite her efforts to leave her past behind, certain habits are deeply ingrained in her. Not as a result of her athlete’s discipline, but more as remnants of an oppressive upbringing. Brief flashbacks hint at the violence she and her mother endured from her father. But the true gravity of her past becomes evident when she comments on her affection for Jae-min, noting, “He’s the first man that didn’t punch me.”

We must pause here to express our admiration for this script. The inherent conflicts are profoundly anchored within the characters. As the second episode unfolds, showcasing Tae-young’s relentless pursuit to persuade Kwon-sook to make a comeback, both sides of this tug-of-war are depicted with impressive depth.

Tae-young’s desperation becomes palpable as he employs every tactic imaginable to sway Kwon-sook. He tempts her with financial offers, invokes memories of her deceased mother, and more, attempting to exploit her emotional vulnerabilities. Concurrently, we witness Kwon-sook’s suppressed anxieties resurface.

Undeterred, Tae-young resorts to leaking Kwon-sook’s whereabouts to a journalist he collaborates with, causing chaos. As a result, Kwon-sook’s workplace is besieged by media, her residence is swarmed by reporters, and her once-hidden identity is thrust into the spotlight. But, if Tae-young assumes this aggressive move will break her, he’s met with a fierce punch in retaliation (given she correctly deduces his role in the media frenzy). Yet, amidst his seemingly manipulative tactics, glimpses of Tae-young’s candor emerge. A notable instance is when Kwon-sook proposes a financial settlement, and Tae-young’s counteroffer is the exact 2.5 million he owes to the menacing gambling syndicate.

As the plot delves deeper into the shady world of match-fixing, Tae-young consistently liaises with his intermediary, KIM OH-BOK (played by Park Ji-hwan). He outlines his strategy: reintroduce Kwon-sook to the boxing world, ensure she wins her comeback match to reignite public interest, and then have her intentionally lose the subsequent bout. Dealing with such unscrupulous characters is treacherous — it’s particularly unsettling when one of them, Lee Kyung-young, casually serves soup in his local eatery. Yet, with his back against the wall, Tae-young is compelled to tread this precarious path.

Ultimately, Tae-young achieves his objective, not by coercion, but by discerning and aligning with Kwon-sook’s true desires. On the verge of breaking, a physically and mentally exhausted Kwon-sook encounters Tae-young, who presents an unprecedented proposal: he promises to help her exit the boxing world for good. His proposition is rational — compete in two matches, deliberately lose the second, and retire without further scrutiny. As he poignantly remarks, “No one remembers losers.” The scene culminates with him sheltering her under his umbrella, a symbolic gesture, marking the end of our introductory episodes.

The narrative unfolds seamlessly. In just two episodes, we’ve been introduced to our main characters, understood their stakes, and observed them aligning towards a shared objective. The progression doesn’t feel contrived or hurried. The rhythm of the storyline is impeccable, the intricacies are layered, and the personas resonate with authenticity. It’s been a while since a drama has piqued my interest this much, and that sentiment isn’t solely attributed to Lee Sang-yub’s captivating performance.

This is my inaugural experience with Kim So-hye, and she has left a favorable impression. Her portrayal feels genuine; the immense internal tension she embodies is palpable.

Moreover, her on-screen dynamics with Lee Sang-yub are evident, and given that their interactions form the crux of the drama, We are eager to witness the narrative’s evolution. Regarding potential romance, we are inclined to believe it’s a plausible trajectory.

We remember watching “Mental Coach Jegal” with skepticism about a possible relationship due to the age disparity, only to be surprised. In “Jegal,” the age-gap romance felt incongruous and unsettling. However, considering the foundation laid for Tae-young and Kwon-sook, a romantic arc seems more fitting, although the final verdict remains to be seen.