When Son Heung-min finally lifted his first major trophy in professional football, it was far more than just the end of a 17-year drought for Tottenham Hotspur. It was a global celebration—an emotional, unifying moment for fans and neutrals alike, a rare instance in the increasingly divided football world where almost everyone agreed on one thing: Son deserved this.

The magnitude of Son’s Europa League triumph was such that even the BBC chose to cover the story not in their Sports section, but under International News, emphasizing its social and cultural impact in South Korea. The 32-year-old, draped in the Taegeukgi, became more than a footballer—he was a national symbol, a beacon of joy in a time of political turbulence and natural disasters.

The world noticed.

On French radio, RMC Sport hailed the achievement with the heartfelt words: “Comment ne pas être heureux pour ce formidable joueur Heung-min Son” — "How can you not be happy for such a wonderful player, Heung-min Son?"

ESPN shared a jubilant graphic on Instagram, reading, “When Son is happy, the world is happy,” capturing the sentiment of millions. The global football channel 433 dubbed him “Zero Hater,” a term that went viral and quickly racked up nearly 30,000 likes—an apt title for a player universally respected for his class, humility, and unwavering sportsmanship.

Jamie Carragher, Liverpool legend and prominent football pundit, echoed the sentiment on air. “I’m genuinely happy,” he said. “Not for Postecoglou—I think he’s been rightly criticized this season—but for Son. He deserved this. He needed this. For his career, for everything he’s given the club, this is just right.”

In an age where loyalty often takes a backseat to silverware, Son Heung-min stands as a glaring exception. As elite teammates like Harry Kane and Christian Eriksen moved on in search of trophies, Son stayed—because he believed winning with Tottenham would mean more. And he made it happen.

“No one believed in us,” he said after the match, his voice cracking with emotion. “They laughed. But we did it. We finally did it.”

For Tottenham fans, this wasn’t just another captain. This was their captain. A true legend. A man who chose them again and again—and was finally rewarded. “He’s everything a club captain should be,” one fan wrote. “He’s our heart.”

Even Arsenal fans—usually fierce rivals—took to social media to congratulate him. One popular comment read, “I may hate Spurs, but you can’t hate Sonny. He’s football’s good guy.”

The admiration reached far beyond club loyalty. Fans of other clubs flooded comment sections and fan forums with praise, calling him a “true club hero,” a “symbol of loyalty,” and even “the last romantic in football.”

In a sport where players often prioritize personal accolades or career moves over club loyalty, Son’s triumph stands out as one of 21st-century football’s most poetic moments. His story is not just about goals and assists—it’s about grace, humility, and emotional resilience.

As The Athletic put it in their post-match feature: “Son Heung-min has now surpassed Harry Kane as Tottenham’s greatest modern-era player.”

For a man who’s always smiling, always kind, and always giving—this moment wasn’t just deserved. It was destiny fulfilled.

Son Heung-min’s success is not just a personal triumph. It’s a reminder to the football world that kindness, loyalty, and humility still matter—and sometimes, good guys do finish first.