16. So Cozy

The summer sport seasons are mostly over, and the winter sport leagues have started. In Korea, the notable winter sports are basketball and volleyball, followed by smaller leagues like handball and futsal. There are other even smaller amateur sports happening, but I have no plans to venture to any of those soon.

Today I'm on my way to Incheon to watch a match at the home area of Shinhang Bank S-Birds, a women's basketball team. They are a team with a proud history, dominating the league for about a decade. But those days are long gone, and for a few seasons now, they've been languishing in the bottom half of the table.

Their home arena is near Dowon Station, located across the road from Incheon Football Stadium, home of Incheon United FC. The big Bluewings vs Incheon match was the only professional football match I attended all season, but I screwed up the trip so badly that I decided not to write about it. The point is, I've been here recently, and I'm confident of where to go and how to get there. There will be no getting lost and arriving as the players take the floor.

I have precious little experience with basketball, to the extent that this will be only the third time I attend a live match. "Matches" I've watched on screens are mostly from sports movies, and those obviously don't count. I have no idea what to expect from a women's match. Is women's basketball popular? What extras will there be at the arena? Will there be something worth buying at the club shop? Is there even a shop? Will I be caught in a stampede and make it onto the news? "A Little-known foreigner, Otto Silver, gets lost and trampled at a basketball arena."

My questions are answered quickly, though. The only refreshment stand at the arena is a food truck selling coffee. Next to the ticket booth is a small club shop with signed balls, stickers, phone covers and a small collection of player shirts. On the other side of the ticket box is the entrance where a fair number of fans are already making their way into the arena.

Throughout the football season, I rarely had to pay for tickets, and it feels like a knife in my side as I dig out my credit card to pay for a ticket. They charge me the "exorbitant" price of eleven thousand won (less than ten US Dollars). Sure, it's not much, but it's still more than zero thousand won charged at most K4 League matches.

There isn't much to explore, so after looking at the club shop, I head inside to find my seat, but I there is a slight problem. I can't figure out where I'm supposed to sit. I ask a staff member, and they mumble something while pointing in the general direction of some open seats. I head over, find an empty spot to plonk down in, hoping it's not assigned seating. By the end of the match, I was still unsure if it was assigned seating, but I was never asked to move, so...

Seating settled, I relax and watch the players finish their pre-match warm-up, dropping Hot-Crossed Bun-looking balls into the net. They're not the only ones warming up, because I start feeling warm. I can even feel sweat running down my back, and soon  I start to peel off layers, all the way down to my t-shirt. Why is the arena so warm? It's a good thing I didn't wear an old, stained t-shirt like I often do when layering for the winter cold.

With everyone warmed up, the players leave the court, but are back soon enough for the introductions. As each home team player is introduced, they run onto the court and high-five their teammates. I'm clearly not made for team sport, because I'd mentally break from the constant high-fiving of everyone around me for every little thing that happens on the court. Are you introduced? High five, everyone! Did you score? High five, everyone! I see you stopped a ball. High five, everyone! You've had enough. Come take a break. But not before...you high-five everyone!

When the match starts, the visitors get possession first, and immediately, we hear "Dee Pen!" over the sound system. Some in the crowd join in, but most are focused on the game itself. In case you are wondering, "Dee Pen" means "Defence". As soon as possession changes, music starts. Silence is a rarity inside the arena, but much of it is manufactured by whoever manages the sound system, or by the team's appointed cheerleader. I'm used to the sound of unpaid football fan groups filling half-empty stadiums, and when I'm in an arena, it's usually ice hockey where the music is cut as soon as play resumes. In basketball, it feels as if there is no escape from the "noise". I guess it's just something I need to get used to if I want to attend more matches.

Being still new to the sport, I find small things fascinating, which I presume most in the arena find merely pedestrian. The club has eight dancers,  and even more little girls doing their best to mimic the adult dancers. That seems excessive, especially because they are tucked away just behind one of the nets. boards? The thing with the basket for scoring. The dancers are behind that thing. While we watch the match, they do their thing in the corner, out of sight of everyone who is not specifically looking at them. Whenever a player falls, teammates immediately run to check and help them up. Once the player is up, someone rushes in from the side to wipe the floor where they fell, reminding me of the ring cleaners in Bloodsport. Referees have numbers, and when they do the video review, classical music plays over the sound system.

Something that is fun, manufactured or not, depending on your viewpoint, is the booing. When the visitors attempt their free throws,  the dancers and everyone behind the net wave their posters up and down while booing. But the jeering seems good-natured and not nasty or personal. I actually wish I could do this at football matches, but booking there never feels good-natured.

Throughout the match, the crowd is generally quiet. There are many small groups, like families, and not far from me sits a group of teenagers. They are quiet most of the time, but during longer breaks in play, when the dancers hand out gifts, they change. The first gift handed out was signed balls. The teenager stayed in their seats, waving and begging for a ball, and one of them gets. But with each successive gift, they are more aggressive, to the point where they wait at the stairs for the dancer to come up to mob her. For the last gift, she comes up, holds out the gift as soon as she reaches the top of the stairs, then turns and leaves. She could not get away faster, and I don't blame her. Considering that the dancers probably try to spread the gifts out as much as possible, it seems unreasonable that of the 10 or so members of the group, 6 managed to get something at least once. I suspect the teens aren't regulars, and it really left a bad taste in my mouth.

Back to the game, the visitors led from the first ball toss. Again, what is the term for that? Did I get it right? I really need to find this out before my next match. They quickly take a commanding lead, and before long, they're 20 points ahead. That seems big considering women's teams rarely score more than 70 points in a match. The home team manages to claw back some points and at one point are even within 10 of the visitors, but they are never a real threat, and the visitors leave 58-65 victors.

With the match over, we all file out of the arena. Outside, people mill about as they wait for others to exit. I pass a father playing with his son, bouncing a signed ball. This is something I'll never understand. Why do you take a sighted ball, then use it as a normal ball? It just feels greedy because there are people who'd genuinely want the ball as a collectable?

Without the crush of a football stadium's worth of spectators, I make my way to the station in a relaxed way, and there is no fighting to get on the train when it arrives. Overall, I enjoyed the experience, and I look forward to going to at least one more match before the season ends.

14. It's Bigger Than I Thought

The train bound for Munsan is only one station away, and I can't wait to get out of the freezing wind cutting straight through me. This is worrying because I'll spend much of the day outside, exposed to said wind.

I'm on my way to Paju to watch Paju Citizen FC. The club was founded in 2012, and although they've never been one of the semi-professional league's powerhouses, they've always been a competent mid-table team, even finishing runners-up in 2022. Like Yeoju before, I've threatened a trip to Paju many times, but the travel time has always discouraged me. Who in their right mind travels as much as two and a half hours to visit a small city bordering North Korea?

Today is Paju's last home match in the K3 League, and if that's not motivation enough, then I don't know what will be. "But, why is this their last match in the K3 League?", you may ask. It's because the city has decided to turn the team professional, and they will join the K League 2 in 2026. They still need to receive final approval in January, but all indications suggest that it's just a formality. Gimhae 2008 FC, who would be crowned K3 League Champions on the same day, also applied to join K League 2, along with a new team that had been created in Yongin, a city in the South of Gyeonggi Province.

The trip to Paju is mostly uneventful, with many passengers taking long trips and using the opportunity to get some shut-eye. One exception is a couple with a baby who insist on sitting in the centre of a row of seats despite a pink seat being available. At the next station after the couple gets on, three older women get on and argue about who should sit where. The one standing and barking out the orders is standing right next to the mother and child when the train jerks, causing her to fall onto the mother and child. The baby is quiet for a few seconds before the shock sets in, and then she starts screaming. The older woman tries to help, but quickly realises it's not helping, so she just sits there sheepishly looking at nothing. This seems to prompt an unrelated woman next to her to weigh in on the situation when the screaming did not stop immediately, but she might as well have said nothing for all the reaction she gets. Yup, it is a pretty boring 2-hour ride if this is all that I have to report.

I'd been to a part of Paju once before, and that was mostly just riding through on a bus, so I was surprised at the size of the area around Geumchon Station. Of all my trips this year, the walk to the stadium has by far the best variety of restaurants, coffee shops and assorted establishments. I had a specific restaurant in mind before the trip because I contacted the supporter I met in Yeoju, asking for a recommendation.  He recommended a Sundaeguk restaurant that he'd been visiting for many years, and I can see why. I don't know how to explain the difference, but their sundae is not the same as the sundae I'm used to, but it is still very good.

With a belly full of lunch, I cover the last kilometre or so to the stadium, giving myself enough time to walk around, take photos, and get something from the food carts that the club posted about on their Instagram account. There are only three trucks, but all are useful. A Philly Cheese Steak truck, a churros and ice cream truck, and a coffee truck.

With a warm coffee and churros in hand, I made my way into the stadium. Entrance is free, and not only is there no fee, but they are "paying me". Everyone entering gets a bottle of water and two boiled eggs. The team-branded paper noise maker is a given, though, so I don't count that as something special.

Inside, I take photos as I start making my way over to where some Paju supporters are already gathered, and along the way, I pass a young man heading in the opposite direction. When he sees me, he quickly turns around, grabs a bottle of water from a pile on a seat, and hands it to me as a gift. You can never have too much water in your bag, can you? And soon after reaching the fans, I'm handed a Paju Citizen FC-branded scarf by a member of the group.

I have to talk about the scarf. Most team scarves in Korea are impractical. Often long and thick, which would be perfect if the season ran through winter, but the Korean football season runs through the hot, humid summer, and a thick scarf is just impractical. The scarf I'm handed today was custom-made for the day and is being given away for as long as the supply lasts. What makes it special is that it is essentially a long towel, and honestly, one of the most useful things I've ever received at a club. With this thing in hand, I can comfortably whisk away sweat while cheering on a team, if it were not this cold day at the end of the season, that is.

The Paju supporters group, named 술이홀, is an odd bunch. Because the group is fairly small, they all know each other to some extent, but they don't seem to have a leader. Instead, everyone kind of does their own thing and ropes the rest in with them. This is even true when they cheer. The three drummers do not seem particularly coordinated, but somehow always in sync. And as the game goes on, some random "leader" will start a chant, with everyone quickly joining in with whatever they started. Then, when that chant is done, the next random "leader" will start, and everyone will go with the new chant or song. It was fascinating to watch. 

At some point, someone brings out a box with even more eggs. There must be 50 eggs in there, and they are begging everyone to take two, or three, or more.

During the first half, I notice a single supporter on the Mokpo side, so I make my way over to see if I can talk to them. They speak almost no English, and the conversation doesn't last long, but I'm able to learn that they are not actually Mokpo supporters, but supporters of a specific player who used to play for Incheon. On the way back from the Mokpo side, I notice a black man, presumably of African descent, sitting alone in the stands. This is an unusual sight, and I stop to ask if he minds a quick conversation. I learn that he's reporting on the game using an app on his phone. I don't want to bother him because he needs to concentrate, but I would have loved to find out more about this, presumably, side job.

Wow. Today I managed to contact a member of the supporters group, talk to them and other members after I arrived, as well as go up to two complete strangers to talk to them. It's not that I don't like talking, because if you come up to me, then I can talk your ears off, but I made first contact today, and I wish I could fully express how big an achievement this is for me.

During the half-time break, as people go to the bathrooms or wherever people go, I amuse myself by watching those who remain. One guy is posing for a photo. He asked someone close by to take the photo, and he looks fairly normal, even shy, until it is time to pose for the photo, when he gets this determined, hard-man expression and stance, which disappears the moment the photo is done. But my favourite part is his Paju replica shirt. It's the number 1 goalkeeper shirt, and the name above the number is 골키퍼, the Korean transliteration of the word "Goalkeeper". Now I want to see a number 9 shirt with "Striker" as the name.

The match itself was fine, but it basically summed up Mokpo's season. Paju screwed up a back pass, and a Mokpo attacker intercepted it with space to run. The keeper started rushing out, so the attacker lobbed the ball in a high arch over the keeper, just for the ball to his the crossbar and bounce back instead of in. But it did not stop there because the ball bounced back and landed at the feet of a second Mokpo attacker, who looked at all the space in front of him and slid it past the keeper, into the crossbar! On any normal day, you would expect both of those to go straight in, or at least bounce in a favourable direction, but not today with Mokpo on the field.

As this was the last home game of the season, there was a ceremony after the match. But they spend so much time faffing about with speeches, highlights of the season on the big screen and photos with the main stand in the background, that I just give up and left. It's not worth freezing in the wind for 30+ minutes just to get one more photo.

There is one more K3 League round left this season, and I'm considering going to Siheung, which will be hosting Paju, but there is also an important WK League match in Seoul. I'm leaning toward the WK League match, but we'll see what happens when I get closer to the day.

2025.09.25 - Yeoju Stadium

Yeoju FC vs Jaju Citizen FC

13 - The Battle Of Orange

Today's match will see YeoJU host PaJU. Both teams' home shirts are orange, JUhwangsek in Korean, with YeoJU wearing bright ORANGE and PaJU a burnt ORANGE. For so much JU, I've named this match The Battle of Orange.

Jeoju is a smallish city on the edge of Gyeonggi Province, best known as the final resting place of King Sejong the Great. It's also known, to a lesser extent, for rice and ceramics. Like Yangpyeong, I know it as a city along the Seoul-to-Busan bicycle path.

Yeoju FC is a citizen club created in 2018. The sitting Mayor of Yeoju is the owner, and the head of Yeoju Football Association is the CEO. Historically, they've never been more than a competent team. They were one of the initial members of the K4 League at its inception in 2020 and earned promotion to the K3 League in 2023.

I've made plans to visit Yeoju FC many times, but I always find an excuse to cancel, because to get to Yeoju, I need to travel to Seoul, and then leave in a similar direction. The trip that intuitively feels like it should be about 1 hour is actually a boring, 2-hour-long, mostly underground slog. But today I'm making the trip no matter what.

The train to Seoul is as full as can be expected for late morning, but the train out is surprisingly busy as well. The subway line heading out to Yeoju starts at Pangyo, where the waiting train slowly fills up before setting off to the edge of the province. Just before we reach Icheon, we exit the tunnel system and are greeted with the rice field of South East Gyeonggi, already starting to glow yellow in the afternoon sun. Icheon is also where 75% of the passengers pour out. Most of the remaining 25% are destined for Yeoju.

Even though I knew the match started at three, I got it into my head that it actually started at two, so at Yeoju Station, I immediately started looking for lunch. I originally planned to head to a restaurant I found on the map, but instead, I'm running into the GS25 at the station to get something I can eat while walking. This is where I encounter one of the rudest convenience store workers/owners I've met in a while. The dude didn't say a single word and actually orders me around with dismissive hand waving. Note to self, do not buy anything there if you see this man behind the desk.

Yeoju's stadium is about a thirty-minute walk from the subway station, depending on your speed. This is a perfect distance to get a feel for the area. The walk doesn't take me through the main urban area, but the area I do pass through is strange. Everywhere I look, I see isolated groups of high-rise apartment buildings separated by farms and small houses. The isolated blocks are connected by quiet six-lane roads. I can't imagine who these roads we built for, because surely it's no busier during the week.

After an uneventful walk along the giant, quiet roads, I reach the stadium from the rear, where I'm greeted by a wall of grass. Unlike most stadiums that have a sort of wall surrounding them, this stadium was built with grass slopes serving as the "wall", making it look more like a bowl in the land than a stadium. It also makes me think of the Japanese fortresses from the game Total War: Shogun 2.

It seems like today is a special occasion because in front of the main entrance is an unusual number of tents with food, snacks and games. The largest tent provides tables and seats where people are eating Guksu bought at the nearby vendor. It would have been nice to know about this before I came, but in hindsight, I should've asked the supporter I was in contact with about the possibility of food at the stadium. Speaking of my contact, it's a young man, possibly in high school, who is all of the Yeoju cheer squad. I shall call him... Yeoju Boy! and now I'm imagining him with an orange cape and a team emblem across his chest. 

Having screwed up the kick-off time, I sit around for a good hour, listening to podcasts and watching the teams slowly get ready for the match. At least I'm here to receive a hard, hard candy that Yeoju Boy is hanging out to everyone in the stand. With public relations done, he heads over to set up his banner behind one of the goals. It's a rather large banner, and he struggles until someone comes to help.

About 15 minutes before kick-off, more spectators start to arrive. Today is the last home match of the season, clearly a special day. I don't know if they always give out signed balls, and if they do, do they hand out this many, but they are throwing two big baskets filled to the brim into the crowd. I'm ont interested in one because I dont have space for a ball, but the three people in front of me clearly dont have the same reservations. They quickly collect two, hide them in their bag, and then gather three more. So greedy.

When the match starts, I sit and watch for a while before I start moving around. First up is the Paju fan cheering on his team from the side. We've briefly interacted on Instagram, so I know he can speak some English, and when I show him my Instagram profile picture, he knows who I am. We swap a few words, and I assure him that Paju's last home match is definitely on my agenda this season, and that I will see him there. I also make a mental note to message him to ask him about what will be available at the stadium on the day.

Next, I make my way around the field to where Yeoju Boy can be heard chanting on the megaphone. I arrive at the same time as a bunch of elementary school boys. They run around, push each other, sometimes join in the chant, and peek at me too often. Yeoju Boy speaks to them a little, but he mostly seems indifferent to them. He jokingly tells me that they are the new recruits, but he seems more annoyed than happy with them. Their presence does not interfere with his chanting, though.

Of the two supporters, I have to give the Paju supporter the edge. He has a selection of chants and never quits. However, despite being young,  Yeoju Boy is active enough to be a challenge. He and his loudspeaker even manage to get the main stand to join in on multiple occasions. If he does not leave the city for university or something, he will grow up to be Yeoju Man!

The second most interesting thing about Yeoju Stadium is that they don't have dedicated bathrooms for the players. The players must leave their dressing room and come out to the public bathrooms to brush their teeth and whatnot. This is common at small community grounds like Seoul Nowon and Seoul Jungnang, but I would have expected a larger stadium like Jeoju's to have a more.

The match itself seems dominated by Yeoju, but the dominance never leads to goals. Their only "goal" comes after the whistle, with the Paju goalkeeper on the ground and the referee checking on him. The ball is lying a few metres away in front of an open goal, and not wanting to waste a chance, a Yeoju player runs up and pops it into the net, much to the annoyance of one Paju player. The Paju keeper is having a rough day, being involved in multiple collisions that leave him on the ground more than once, and at one point during the second half, he is clearly limping.

At the end of the match, the teams come off the field without much fanfare, only thanking each other and the opposition coaching staff before heading off and waving to the supporters. The trip back is as boring as the trip there, and only memorable moments come from the man next to me with breath so I have to change seats, and the Seongnam Line's monitors, which display the speed of the train as well as the distance to the next station, down to the metre.

Overall, it was an enjoyable day, but I will need more incentive to take on this boring trip in the future.

2025.09.25 - Yeoju Stadium

Yeoju FC vs Jaju Citizen FC

*****

12. Rainmaker Referee

Summer has been rough this year, with high humidity and frequent heatwave warnings. To save players from the worst summer heat, all leagues have a summer break, and mid-season matches have late afternoon or evening kick-off times. There were only a few matches available, but none of them looked attractive enough to justify dealing with the heat and kick-off times. So here I am after about a month of inactivity, at Seoul World Cup Stadium, again.

Note: This was also the first time I was at a match with a clear plan to record the experience on video. I'm not happy with the results, but I learned from this, and each attempt will be a little better.

Last time I was here, it was mostly just to go somewhere different, but this time I'm here specifically to watch Changnyeong WFC. Changnyeong is a rural county in the Southeast of Korea,filled with farms and farmers. I've watched most of their matches this season via live streams on YouTube, but this is the first time I watched them in person. I fully expect Changnyeong to lose. In the twenty league matches this season, they've won one, drawn one and lost eighteen. They come into this match with six losses in a row and, I think, three more from the recent National Women's Football Championship. Despite Changnyeong's record, I'm hoping for an interesting match because although Seoul started the season with a bang, they seem to be fizzling out. In their last ten matches, they won two, lost two and drew six.

As before, I head to Seoul directly after work. I'm not particularly hungry and grab a piece of cold chicken and a cheap beer from HomePlus before heading over to the auxiliary stadium. While there I spend some time capturing video of the area and players warming up. I also take out my newly acquired pink Changnyeong away shirt and hang it over my bag to show which team I'm supporting today.

Diagonally behind me is a woman with a camera attached to an almighty lens. If she were a man, I would joke that she is compensating for something, but what is the female equivalent of that silly joke? Seriously, though, I think you'd be able to photograph the nose hair of players on the other side of the field with that piece of telephoto glass.

Just to the side of me is a young man who looks like he left work early to be here. He is too well-dressed to sit among us ruffians. When he notices the shirt draped over my backpack, he stands and, ever so slowly, inches his way towards me, I'm guessing "to get a better look at the players warming up". I know what's coming, but I'm not allowed to avoid the conversation, so I'll just have to wait for the inevitable...

"Where are you from?" Yup, that's what he leads with. No matter where in the world you are, this is the most common first sentence when speaking to someone obviously not from here. We get to chatting, and I learn that he is an Incheon United supporter, not not a Changnyeong WFC supporter. He is here because his favourite player, number 2, Choi Jeong-Yun, plays for Changnyeong. Unfortunately, she is injured and will not play today. She is on the field with the rest of the team as they warm up, and she its on the bench with the substitutes, but that is all we will see of her during the match.

Mr, United is filled with football trivia about Korean teams and players. He even remembers facts about South Africa at the 2010 World Cup, and remembers that Sundowns played against Ulsan in the Club World Cup. Amazingly, he can name a South African national team player who played for a club in England.

Soon enough, the referees and players make their way onto the field, players huddle up for the pre-game chant, and it's time to kick off. Interestingly, there are no pre-match team photos.The whistle blows, and as if waiting for the signal, the heavens open to pour out every bit of moisture they'd been building up during the day. The players are instantly drenched. The rain lasted for only a moment before it stopped, but for the rest of the match, it would make brief but strong appearances.

During the match, Mr Font of Knowledge slips me bits of information about the teams and players, from recent results to players club histories. He also mentions that it's the third time he watches Changnyeong, and he brought a present for his favourite player. I ask if I may know what he brought, and he says a Starbucks cup. Interesting. Is it common for fans to give players presents?

Right on half-time, Seoul gets a free kick near the box. They lob the ball straight at the keeper, who promptly tips it straight into her own net. I assume it wasn't as easy a save as it looked, but from where we were sitting, with only one viewing, it looked like a rather straightforward tap over the bar. Up to this point, Seoul looked the better team, but Changnyeong was doing a good job of keeping them at bay and a draw looked like a real possibility. Oh well, such is life. After the goal, the players head straight to the locker room for the break.

When they come out, Changnyeong star player, number one draft pick, and member of the national team, Lee Eun-Yeon, grabs my attention. She doesn't look happy with life. Before a half starts, the team gathers, forms a circle, and bends over to do a quick chant. Lee is in the circle, but doesn't bend over and doesn't chant. During the match, whenever she has the ball, you can see she is a quality player, but off the ball, she is a very different player. It's not clear what her role is in midfield. She doesn't look defensive because she rarely chases or closes down attackers. She doesn't look attacking because she is too far back and doesn't run into space. She just hangs out and waits for the ball to appear at her feet. It's disappointing because the few times she did have the ball, she had the crowd Ooh-ing and Aah-ing.

(A few days before the match this article popped up on my feed, and honestly, after reading that I'm just surprised she is even on the field.)

An amusing moment comes when the referee awards Seoul a free kick. Instead of spraying a circle to mark the spot, she sprays a single dot. As soon as she turns her back, the Seoul player scoops up the whole dot, moves it about a metre forward, and places the ball just behind it. I doubt that metre will make any difference, but A+ for effort and sneakiness.

Seoul does not score in the second half, but twice unmarked attackers hit the woodwork. Cheongnyeong fights bravely and looks like they were trying, but it's mostly the same old same old. Their ball handling under pressure is terrible, and their first touch more often than not bounces in unintended directions. On top of that, they still don't seem to have any real game plan. Even plain old Route One would be better than whatever they are supposed to be doing.

The match finishes 1-0 to Seoul, and after the match, the players thank each other and the referees. The Seoul players huddle up for a team talk (without thanking the home support first) while the Changnyeong players walk off without even acknowledging the visiting supporters with so much as a wave. They definitely know they have support in the stands because during warm-ups, more than one player waved at someone they knew. This nonsense might be standard behaviour in most countries, but in Korea it's just plain rude. I was annoyed, but it clearly left my match buddy a bit down.

Before leaving the stadium, I exchanged contact information with the Incheon Mind Trap and promised to contact him if I decide to go to a match at Incheon United. It just so happens that Incheon will host Suwon during Chuseok, and that seems like a juicy match to attend. As we walk out of the stadium, I notice the woman with the telescope for a camera and her friend standing where the team buses normally pick up the players. I assume they are waiting for the players to come out, and I get confirmation when Incheon Man says he will join them. I still have an hour of travel ahead of me, and I'm not in the mood to wait until the players come out one day, so I greet him and head to the subway station. I hope he managed to give the gift to Number 2.

It's been too long without free live football, and I can't wait for the kick-off times to change so that I can attend K3 League matches.

2025.08.25 - Seoul World Cup Stadium Auxiliary Field

Seoul City Hall WFC vs Changnyeong WFC

11. Sexy Beasts

The WK League is the highest tier of women’s football in Korea. Officially, it is a semi-professional league, but players in the better-funded teams often earn enough to be fully professional.

Most teams are operated by companies like Hyundai Steel, but not the two teams I'll watch tonight. The home team is Seoul City Hall, also known as Seoul Amazones, operated by Seoul City. The visiting team is the reigning WK League champions, Suwon FC Women. They are operated by Suwon FC, a professional team currently competing in the K League 1.

This season, all matches other than the opening round are played on weekday evenings, meaning that, practically speaking, Seoul is the only team I’m able to reach. I planned to attend a match a week ago, but there was a problem with the trains into Seoul. There was no telling how long the trip, which normally takes an hour, would take when trains are standing at stations for 15 minutes at a time.

Thankfully, the trains are fully operational today, so I have no excuse. Trains heading into Seoul in the evening are naturally emptier than trains carrying commuters out of Seoul, but even with that, it's unusually quiet today. I find a seat immediately and pass the time glancing at passengers staring at their phones or sleeping. Here and there, someone is wide awake listening to something or reading a book. It’s interesting how many people read books on the train. I guess it’s easier when you always travel in the relatively empty trains.

The route to Seoul World Cup Stadium is a familiar one that I've made so many times for FC Seoul matches, and I make the transfers almost without thinking. It feels strange to approach and arrive here without a mass of Black-and-Red-clad passengers pouring out of the train. The exact opposite, in fact. Not a single person is wearing FC Seoul colours, and only about 5 other people are heading up and out of the station.

Tonight, I'm not heading to the World Cup Stadium itself, but to the auxiliary field, possibly my favourite football venue in Korea. It's the perfect size for a Korean semi-professional team, football-specific, with no running track to distance us from the action. The stand here is raised, meaning there are no significant blind spots either. The pitch itself is something called a hybrid surface. I’m not sure what that means, but I'm told it's not the normal artificial stuff used on all the community pitches around the country. All that matters to me is that the surface is always green and smooth. 

I don’t head to the pitch right away. Instead, I head towards the main stadium. The bowels of the stadium are filled with shops and restaurants, and a HomePlus. You would expect more shoppers, given the number of apartments near the stadium, but it's oddly quiet tonight. The quiet is disconcerting when compared to the chaos of an FC Seoul match day. After a quick walk about scanning the open restaurants, I settle on curry. Finally, some curry! It's no surprise that I’m the sole patron, and I can't help but wonder how the shops and restaurants turn a profit with so few weekday customers.

Dinner done, it’s time to find snacks for the match. At HomePlus I find something called a Ginger Highball. *sigh* “Highball” has been a thing in Korea for a couple of years now. The preferred term used to be cocktail, but I guess that doesn't sound trendy enough any more. A highball is a specific kind of alcoholic mixed drink, but the way it’s used in Korea has made the word meaningless. Anything that is not straight beer, wine, soju or whiskey is called a highball. Take the drink I chose as an example. It’s not a mix of anything and nothing more than an alcoholic ginger beer. I know, for a fact, that you can brew alcoholic ginger beer, because I’ve done it, and if you can brew it, then surely it’s not a “highball” or even a cocktail any more? This rant has nothing to do with football, and I apologise.

Ginger beer and, sorry, “Highball” and crisps in hand, I head to the auxiliary field. Most of the spectators are already there, including the usual collection of old men sitting outside on the park benches next to the fence. I always wonder if they are aware that there is no entrance fee. As I walk past them, one red-faced man stares at me, almost falling off the bench as he turns to follow my path. Next to him is a paper cup and an open bottle of cheap makgeolli. I wish I'd brought my home brew tonight because I'd have loved to pour him a cup. I suspect it would get me in trouble as he'd want to talk, and odds are, it would not be an English conversation. I have experience with drunk people wanting to chat, not grasping that I only understand about 20% of what comes out of their mouths, babbling on until I excuse myself. But you never know, many people in Korea know a lot more English than they're willing to admit, and alcohol tends to remove people’s inhibitions to speak English. The reverse is probably true as well, and if I were more social and willing to get drunk, I might've been a bit more proficient in Korean by now. Of course, I mentally resolve to start studying Korean again so I can sit down and have a small conversation with other spectators. (I'm glad to report that since that day, I've put in a serious effort to get back to studying Korean.)

As usual, I sit on the side of the visitors. As far as I know, there are no rules in the WK League preventing fans from mixing in the stands, or at least the rules aren't enforced. However, the habit is for home fans to sit on the right when facing the field, and away fans on the left, behind their respective dug-outs. Three of Suwon’s chanting supporters are here with a drum and a loudspeaker, but if they chant 10 times, then it’s a lot. They're mostly there as vocal supporters to encourage the players and shout at the ref. The rest of the supporters are quiet and only half-heartedly join in when the cheer squad launch into a simple “Su-Won-Eh-Feu-She!” chant. The spectators show more life when they laugh at the Suwon coach throwing a fit at an on-field decision. To be fair, he is quite entertaining.

Side rant: The most basic Suwon FC chant of “Su-Won-Eh-Feu-She!” is why I can't be a Suwon fan. The letter "F" is a single letter, it does not have syllables! Suwon FC's baseball neighbours are just as bad, trying to chant KT Wiz as “K-T-Wee-Geu!” Wiz is one single syllable, without a G! Why do they insist on a name their supporters can’t chant properly?!

Throughout the match, we're accompanied by what I like to call “Sexy Mosquitoes”. They look like mosquitoes when on the ground, just bigger and jet-black. But when they fly, their bodies hang down, like they're struggling to carry their own weight. And I call them “Sexy Beasts" because they mate in the air, in front of us, while we're trying to watch football. I did not come for this. Shameful!

On the field, Suwon is doing well. The defending champions have had a terrible 2025 season, but today they've come to win. They score first, on the opposite end from where their substitutes sit. Substitutes aren't allowed to rush onto the field to congratulate the scorer, so instead they stand next to the field, waving their arms like fan girls, trying to get their teammate’s attention. It is funny, but also adorable. Speaking of adorable, the women's teams have a way of doing the most basic thing and making it look cute. For instance, they don't just line up for a team photo; they strike poses. Nothing big, maybe just a hand on the face here, two “victory” fingers there, but it's so unlike the men who line up with a "get it over with" attitude. The players often know supporters in the stands, and sometimes they spot someone they know, followed by a beaming smile and arm-waving. Don't let that fool you, though. When the whistle blows, they play hard. They are competitors, and they want to win as much as any other athlete. It's a league that's easy to like.

In the second half, Seoul managed to score an equaliser. The score stayed like that, and the match ended in a draw. But it was no tame draw, though, and both teams fought to the end, with control and momentum swinging from side to side.

Near the end of the match, I notice a German man sitting in my vicinity. I’m not sure when he arrived, but as I leave, I overhear him discussing the upcoming FC Seoul vs Barcelona FC match. Before heading to the subway station, I take some night photos of the main stadium, which allows him to catch up and ask if I know how to buy a ticket for the aforementioned match. More specifically, he wants to know if there is a way around the common problem in Korea of needing Korean-issued ID and phone number to register for the ticketing sites. Maybe he is a tourist, or on a short-term work VISA. Whatever the situation, he's unable to register and buy tickets online. Unfortunately for him, I don’t care about that match. If I lived in Seoul, I might have offered to buy the ticket, but I’m not travelling an hour just to give someone else a ticket for a match I’m not watching myself.

All in all, it was another good day out at the World Cup Stadium, and I'll be back when Changnyeong visits to sport my brand new custom pink away shirt.

2025.06.23 - Seoul World Cup Stadium Auxiliary Field

Seoul City Hall WFC vs Suwon FC Women

10. Amateur Town

I’ve been threatening a trip to Uiwang’s K7 League for three years already, but each time I find a date I like, something more important comes up. It’s a shame, because Bugok Sports Park (부곡체육공원) is only a short bicycle ride away, and arguably the easiest field for me to reach, in any league. So here I am, out on the road at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, with just enough time to make the 08:10 kick-off of the first match. The road is so quiet that I can, for most of the ride, hear the buzz of my tires on the road.

Wangsong Lake is along the way. It's known for its rail bike, zip line and family park. The bikes are not running yet, but a few people are out for their morning walks, and the first oksusu vendor is setting up for what looks to be a great day to be outside. I also spot a crane standing on the bank of the lily ponds that feed off the lake. I try to photograph the crane, but it doesn't like me there and eyeballs me the whole time. Even as I ride away, I can still see its head turning to follow me.

Before leaving the lake areas, I stop and take a photo, like I do every time I’m here. It’s not an amazing lake, but I like it. Photo done, I make my way past the vendor and through a tunnel that passes under the train tracks and connects the lake areas to the Railway Museum. The Railway Museum itself is next to the National Railway College, and that is next to the Railway Research Institute. I must pass all three to get to my destination, but along the way, I hear people playing, and I can't resist having a look. There's a casual Sunday match on the Railway College’s football field, but this is not what I came for, so I move on without spending much time there. As I ride the last 300m, I pass numerous recreational trailers of various sizes, most of which I would describe as fold-up tents on wheels. Where are the owners, and why is everything parked on this street? I doubt all the owners work at one of the two railway institutes.

Uiwang seems to like tunnels, because there is another that runs under a busy road next to the venue, allowing me to reach the field without crossing a fairly busy road. I pass through, and I see players heading in the opposite direction for a smoke break. As the day goes on, I learn that smoke breaks are a big part of a K7 League team’s match day schedule.

The venue is a small community sports complex. In one corner are tennis courts already filled, and from them emanate the grunts of human exertion and the thunks of balls hitting rackets. Right next to the tennis courts is a sandpit used for Korean wrestling, ssireum. I believe this is my first time seeing a permanent wrestling pit. There is a path that runs roughly around the football field, and it, like the tennis court, is filled with early risers, retirees covered from head to toe in whatever can shield them from the sun. In yet another corner is a gym with badminton courts, and that too is already filled with matches.

The only unused facilities are the croquet court, which you call a court, and the workout equipment. From time to time, children come to play on the workout equipment, or an old man does something that makes no sense, but for the most part, they remain unused. Near the workout equipment are three women offering free CPR lessons. For the three or 4 hours that I’m there, I see only one person stop and take a lesson from them. The rest of the time, they sit, chat and drink coffee.

At the football field, the seats where players and spectators sit are on one side of the field, while the officials are on the stage at the opposite side. This means players who come on as substitutes must walk or run all the way around to hand in their ID cards, a big ask for some in the K7 Leagues. Next to the stage is an ambulance on standby, supplied by a local hospital, but the only thing I ever see them do is spray a tweaked muscle or two. The single ambulance seems rudimentary, but it’s still much better than pre-2020, when the ref was a player with his shirt turned inside out and medical aid was the first aid kit in someone’s car.

I missed the first kick-off by a minute, but that means I arrive when everyone involved in the first match is already here. There is no sitting around looking out of place as I wait for kick-off. While the two teams play, a surprising number of spectators stand and watch, with almost as many spectators as there are players. Most of them are older men, and it’s not easy to tell how they relate to the team. I’m guessing they are former players, and now help with training and moral support.

The lack of early morning traffic and the distance from the road make for peaceful surroundings, and we can hear everything that happens on the field. You can follow every instruction from the captain and the reactions from the players. You can hear feet on the ground and the thump as boots meet ball. Likewise, you can clearly hear when players smash into each other and apologise for possibly dangerous tackles. You can also hear the comments from the spectators. It’s not uncommon to hear one person saying something loud enough for players to hear, and have everyone on the sideline burst out laughing.

As the matches progress, it’s clear that these are not the fittest players in the country. This is K7 League, the lowest of the amateur leagues administered by the KFA. Most of the players have jobs and families, and little time to train. I imagine that for many teams, the only “team training” they get is the match itself, and whatever other matches they can arrange on weekends when the league is not in action. The keeper in the first match looks like he's smudging a spare football under his shirt and is clearly in need of some cardio training. A quarter of the way into the match, he, the goalkeeper, is already resting with his hands on his knees. But despite his physical appearance, he is the hero of his team. His 7 or 8 diving saves are the only reason they don't lose by a score greater than 0:6.

Another deceptive, out-of-shape-looking player, Gocheon’s #7, appears in the third and final match of the day. He looks like the laziest player on the field, but that is only because he is good at positioning and anticipation. He scores three goals, each from his team putting the ball into space and letting him run on to it. Once he gets the ball, he calmly picks a spot and, despite players harassing him, he smoothly places it past the keeper. How is this man not playing for Uiwang’s K6 team, or maybe even for a weaker K5 team? He scores another from a penalty, making it 4 of his team’s 5 goals. I think I might come back for another round just to see if this is a normal day for him.

Quality-wise, most of the matches are what you would expect. There are wayward passes, mis-timed runs, headers to nowhere, and most shots at goal look more like passes to the side line. All this is interspersed with moments of magic when everything comes together for a goal fit for any highlight reel. Something else I've come to expect from K7 League is the lack of dangerous challenges. There are exceptions, but refs are quick to blow for rough play, and players usually apologise immediately, usually even before the ref can get involved. I imagine this is because players understand that it’s not worth losing their ability to walk just to play a game you likely subsidise with your own money. No one wants to break or tear something, resulting in long layoffs and possibly expensive medical treatments at personal cost.

In four matches, only two collisions made me cringe. One comes as I’m walking along the sidelines. I turn around to follow the action and see a player running the ball along the flank at high speed, closely followed by a defender to provide backup. As the runner loses control of the ball, he pulls up and turns to get back in position. He is almost stationary when the backup defender clatters into him, shoulder to chest, at what looks like full speed. The thump is horrible, and the runner is knocked back. He stumbles before going down, and he stays down for a good three minutes. I don’t think there was any malicious intent, just bad timing, but that could have been so much worse.

The second incident, one that results in a player leaving the field, happens when two players clash and tumble in separate directions. The clash sounds like bone on bone, and both stay down for at least a minute. Again, it was just an accident, and no reason to believe either player intended any harm.

Overall, I’d say this was a good day out and I hope to get to some more K7 during the year.

9. Beer and Grass

Early-season kick-offs are nearing their end, and soon long trips will become impractical. Even today’s kick-off at Yangpyeong is 16:00 rather than 14:00, and their next home match will be at the summer 18:00 kick-off time. Most matches during the summer kick off at 19:00, and on a long trip, it will mean I will arrive home near midnight. I dislike arriving home that late.

Today, Yangpyeong Citizen FC hosts FC Mokpo. Mokpo are a former National League team and regulars in the top half of the K3 League. However, 2025 did not start well for them. They enter the 8th round without a single win, and their only point so far came from a draw in round 7. The upside is that the draw was against possible title challengers, Pocheon Citizen FC. I chose this match today because I’ve never been to Yangpyeong other than cycling through it, and because I have a soft spot for struggling teams. I’m hoping to see Mokpo earn its first win of the season.

An advantage of the slightly later kick-off is that I don't have to leave home as early as I normally would. But I still want to have lunch in Yangpyeong, so I decide to leave earlier anyway, and fill the time by walking from the station to the stadium rather than taking a bus. The trip starts with the normal ride into Seoul to the now familiar transfer onto the Gyeongui-Jungnang line. This is the same line that takes you to Seoul Jungnang FC, and Namyangju Citizen FC, and hopefully later this season, Paju Citizen FC. There is only one line with more teams, professional and semi-professional teams near it is Line 1, with five teams, and it used to be eight.

Yangpyeong is a favourite with cyclists, despite the time needed to get there. It’s next to a large tributary of the Han River, and connected to the Seoul-to-Busan bike path. Many cyclists get off at Yangpyeong and cycle back to Seoul, while others venture out onto the quiet mountain roads. The weather is finally warming up, and I was expecting to see masses of cyclists heading out, but there are barely any today. But it’s almost midday, so maybe I missed the rush. Without the crush of cyclists and their bikes to look at, the journey to the edge of Gyeonggi Province is almost boring. There are no weirdos to gape at, or strange scenes outside to scratch my head over, just the urban landscape, slowly turning to mountains on one side and a river on the other.

Despite the line terminating a few stations later, most people get off at Yangpyeong Station. I don't know where everyone's going, but unlike Yeoncheon, most people do not look retired. Just outside the exit is a Tourist Information kiosk. The lady working there seemed quite eager to help me, but unfortunately, I know where I'm going. I’m only looking for a map of the local attraction, for future reference. Life is not just about lower-league football, after all.

Once I leave the kiosk, it’s time to get to Yangpyeong-ing. First on the agenda is lunch. I heard Yangpyeong is big on haejangguk, so that’s what I’m looking for. Earlier, I found a restaurant on Kakao Maps and I head in that direction. Along the way, I find a different restaurant that looks good and enter for a bowl of Sundaeguk. For those who don't know, haejangguk is a soup made with chopped, throw-away bits of a pig, like the stomach, intestines, and liver. Sundae is that with a few pieces of blood-noodle sausage. It might sound disgusting, but don't poo-poo it until you try it. I don't know why Korean tourism organisations are so hesitant to introduce tourists to these kinds of foods. It's not glamorous, but it's part of Korea, and visitors usually want to experience as much of a country as they can. Food is usually high on the list of things to do; I’d happily classify it as a must-eat.

With the space in my stomach filled, I’m off to the stadium. It takes about 45 minutes, but I get to see the surroundings. Yangpyeong is fairly rural, with fields being readied for rice right next to small blocks of high-rise apartments.  Here and there are random shops and cafes. I lived in Icheon, and I thought that was rural, but I now realise why Icheon is a city, and Yangpyeong is just a county. For most of the walk the the roads are so quiet that I’m able to jaywalk at will. Instead of sharing the sidewalk with people, I share it with grass spiders scurrying across my path.

Within sight of the stadium, I find the supermarket which I marked as a location to buy snacks, water and maybe a beer or soda. It’s as quiet as the surrounding area, and the aisles are more spacious than I'm used to. This is a luxury in Korea. As is my habit, I head straight to the makgeolli to see what they have on offer. Unsurprisingly, they only have the stuff I don’t even consider real makgolli, but unlike in more urban areas, they sell theirs in double size, 1.7 litre bottles. For a brief moment, I consider getting a bottle and a can of cola, but instead, I take a bottle of corn tea because sometimes I’m Korean like that.

As I approach the stadium, I see people apparently outside the stadium, looking in. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to take a photo of someone looking at the playing field, so I head up behind the main stand for a photo, and discover that there is open access to a grass bank next to the field. Not only is someone standing there looking at players warming up, but there are people set up for a picnic. At Yangpyeong Citizen FC, you can watch football while having a picnic on a grass bank. I don't even care that there is a running track around the field, this alone must make it one of the best stadiums to visit in the country. On top of that, there is the general view from within the stadium. Some of the K3 and K4 stadiums have spectacular backdrops, and Yangpyoung is not one to be left behind. Unlike a large mountain overlooking Yeoncheon Stadium, here we have a small mountain directly next to the stadium, with the larger mountains far in the distance.

Just before the match gets underway, I find a comfortable spot under a tree and settle in for the first half. Soon after the match starts, I hear an impressive number of people chanting. On the main stand, I can see two people with drums leading the crowd. They don’t look like an organised supporter group, but more like enthusiastic spectators. The woman leading the cheering is good, and she manages to keep people active for much of the match. She is accompanied by a less active mane. Looking at them, it's not clear if they're doing this for the love of the game or if they are working for the team.

Throughout the first half, I’m distracted by playing children. The boys are throwing their shoes at each other, and the girls are picking flowers to weave together, while their parents chat on the blanket under the tree. Can they behave any more stereotypically than this? ^^

During half-time, I take a walk around the ground and make my way to the Mokpo supporters' side. There are about ten of them, but I would classify only one as a fan. He has the shirt, banner and noise maker, and occasionally he launches into a chant. The rest just sit and applaud from time to time. It seems boring, so I head around to the home side and spend most of the second half between the Yangpyeong supporters.

When the half starts, so does the distraction, or entertainment, depending on your viewpoint, of the cheerleaders. The woman is still going strong, but the man, who might be her husband, sometimes beats the drum, and sometimes gets children to do it, and sometimes stares at his phone. The spectators have those paper fans they often hand out at matches, the foldable ones that double as noise makers, and some even have plastic hand clappers. I have no idea if these were handed out before the match because I went straight to the grass banks, but if they brought them along from previous matches, then colour me impressed.

As for the match, Mokpo FC didn’t look like a team that scored only 1 point from 8 matches. They looked dangerous and even led for a while. Mokpo scored while I was wandering around towards their supporters’ side, and I didn't see it happen, but I did see both of Yangpyeong’s goals. Both looked odd, as if the keeper was surprised by events. With the match well balanced, both teams started to feel the time crunch at the end of the match. Tempers started to flare to the point where we almost saw a fist fight. But as time ran out, Yangpyeong had two goals and Mokpo only one, making it eight losses in nine matches for the visitors.

The trip home was where the weirdos showed up. Someone sleeping on the reserved seats, three women arguing loudly about who should sit where, while running back and forth to try and convince the fourth to join them, just to have her put her fingers in her ears, wave her hands and stick her tongue out like a child, and people in the oddest clothing combinations imaginable.

The trip to Yangpyeong was generally pleasant, much of that coming from the stadium and fans. I'd happily recommend this venue to anyone looking to go somewhere a bit out of the way.

2025.04.19 - Yangpyeong Sports Complex

Yangpyeong FC  vs FC Mokpo