by sportswriters Cao Yibo and Sun Zhe

URUMQI, China, March 24 (Xinhua) -- As the early morning light pierces through the lingering snow on the Tianshan Mountains in China's Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, Yoo Young-tae paces through the wrestling gym.

The South Korean coach watches every lock-up and takedown with a sharp gaze, memories of 15 years filled with sweat, sacrifice, and triumph flooding his mind.

FROM BARREN MATS TO OLYMPIC PODIUMS

A native of South Korea's Gyeongsangnam-do, Yoo was once a celebrated Greco-Roman wrestler. After a distinguished career on the mat-and a successful coaching stint that produced two-time Olympic champion Sim Kwon-ho-he made a life-changing decision in 2009.

At the time, Xinjiang's wrestling program was struggling. Yoo saw an opportunity to take on a challenge far from home.

"I knew nothing about China's Xinjiang at the time," Yoo recalled, "but I was ready to face the language and cultural barriers head-on."

In 2010, he embarked on a journey that would reshape his life and the future of Xinjiang wrestling. Arriving in Urumqi, he quickly discovered that the region's once-proud wrestling tradition had faded, and its talent pipeline had all but dried up.

Undeterred, Yoo threw himself into rebuilding. He traveled extensively across the region, attending local competitions-from the foothills of Mount Tianshan to bustling urban centers-in search of untapped talent.

"The kids here are strong, disciplined, and eager to learn," Yoo said. "Xinjiang is a treasure trove for wrestling."

Starting with the basics, he meticulously taught a new generation the fundamentals of wrestling, instilling in them the same passion and rigor that once defined the sport in the region.

His dedication began to pay off. Xinjiang's wrestling scene has seen a remarkable revival, with Walihan Sailike claiming bronze in the men's 60kg Greco-Roman wrestling at the Tokyo Olympics and Tuo Erbatu securing two National Games titles.

Yoo's outstanding coaching also earned him a position with China's national team, where he led the Greco-Roman squad at the Rio and Paris Olympics.

ROOTED IN XINJIANG LIKE A DESERT POPLAR

As the morning training session drew to a close, wrestlers gathered around Yoo, hanging on his every word as he gave detailed feedback. Initially seated on the sidelines, he soon got down on the mat, pulling a young wrestler beside him to demonstrate key defensive techniques.

Though his back is slightly bent with age, Yoo remains as steady as a desert poplar-resilient and unwavering in the harshest conditions, much like the iconic trees that stand tall in Xinjiang's vast landscape.

Despite receiving offers from other regions with far higher pay, Yoo remains loyal to Xinjiang.

"I've received invitations from all over, but my heart belongs here," he said. "The support and care I've received from my colleagues and the community make every challenge worthwhile."

Off the mat, Yoo has embraced life in Xinjiang with the same vigor he brings to training. He has developed a fondness for local culinary delights such as big plate chicken and Toksun noodles and eagerly joins traditional celebrations with colleagues from different ethnic communities.

"Living in a place with so many diverse cultures has taught me the value of integration," Yoo said. "You must embrace your environment to truly excel at your work."

DEVOTION BEYOND BORDERS

In a city where time rarely permits idle chatter, Yoo's schedule is as rigorous as his training sessions. Even though he shares Urumqi with another South Korean coach-a basketball mentor who has spent years nurturing talent for the local CBA team Xinjiang Flying Tigers-their paths rarely cross, each wholly devoted to their demanding roles.

"No matter what field we are in, we must cherish the opportunities we are given and work relentlessly," Yoo said.

Looking ahead, Yoo remains both hopeful and reflective. He envisions a future where more professionals from South Korea are drawn to Xinjiang, inspired by the region's untapped potential and the chance to make a lasting impact.

Yet, at 64, he knows that one day he may have to leave the land that has become his second home.

"When that day comes, I know I'll feel a deep sadness," he admitted. "But I'll find comfort in knowing that I've left something valuable behind." Enditem