The trip for the Korea Cup Round 2 between Busan IPark and Busan Transportation Corporation will be a long one, but it’s a rare derby match in a city that, until this season, has had only two league teams. The two teams have met only once before, 9 years previously, and I-Park won 3-0.
Busan IPark FC has been around since 1983 and is currently owned by HDC Hyundai Development Company, which is, not surprisingly, for the IPark brand apartments. The team are currently playing in K League 2. Busan Transportation Corporation FC (BTC) was established in 2006 and is owned and operated by, well, Busan Transportation Corporation, which operates the subway lines in and around Busan. Today's game will be played at Gudeok Stadium, the home stadium of Busan Transportation Corporation FC. But wait, it’s also the home stadium of Busan IPark FC. Yes, IPark will be playing away at their own home stadium. Go figure.
My day starts early because my city has neither bus terminals nor a train station. (Everyone wants a bus terminal, but no one wants it in their neighbourhood.) I take two buses to Gwangmyeong where I board the KTX. From my door to the stadium will take roughly four and a half hours, and the return trip might be longer. Sometimes, I wish I had a car. But only sometimes, because what kind of adventure starts with “There I was, alone in my car, for 3 hours…”?
I arrived in Gwangmyeong fairly early to get a coffee and explore the station a bit. Thank goodness I did, because the stations on either end are much more interesting than the train trips between them. I'm surrounded by people looking like they are just there to spend a day out of the house with no intention of going anywhere further than the benches they are glued to. Even the pigeons inside the building aren't particularly interested in moving overly much.
As stated before, the train trip to Busan is boring. Instead of hungry, man-eating zombies, I’m surrounded by docile, phone-staring zombies. Only once during the whole trip did I see a small group dig into a bag to retrieve food. What is Korea coming to? How am I supposed to make fun of people when they don’t dig in spare plastic bags for individually wrapped snack and fruit pieces as soon as they sit down for a trip?
As we near Busan Station, the fact is announced and displayed on the monitors. In an instant, 95% of the passengers are up to remove their luggage from the overhead racks. The train hasn't started slowing down yet, but there they are, in the aisle with travel suitcases in hand, waiting for the door to open. Everyone wants to be first to wait for the door to open, first to get on the escalator, first to stand on the escalator, and first out of the station so that they can be first to wait for a taxi, or first to wait for a bus, or first to wait for the subway to arrive. After the scare of no one eating on the train, I'm relieved to see I'm still in Korea, after all. Only a small number of us calmly wait until most passengers are gone before we start moving to the door. We are, almost invariably, travelling alone.
It's been a long time since I've been to Busan Station, and I don't remember it being so busy. I make my way out of the mess of people to find the subway. Did you know that the Busan subway cars are set up differently from those of the Seoul subway? I didn’t, and it bothers me. I’ve spent years training my brain, and I can instantly tell if and where I want to sit. But these cars are breaking my settled brain. There are only two doors per car, and the number of seats between doors is more than I’m used to. What is this madness?!
I overcame the immense challenge of finding a seat on the nearly empty train and complete the short trip to the stadium. As I exit the station, I quickly check to see if the stadium is visible, and it is, if well camouflaged by the surrounding buildings. You can easily walk to within 100m of the stadium and not realise it’s there. The gray stadium easily blends with the gray surroundings. There's just nothing noteworthy about the stadium. Even the inside resembles numerous others throughout the country, and it feels no different from entering Suwon FC or FC Anyang’s grounds. At least those grounds have temporary stands on the running track, but at Gudeok we don't even have that luxury. Everyone, without exception, has to watch the action from behind a running track.
At the ticket booth, I pay and forget to ask for the discount allowed for using the subway, owned and operated by the team’s owners. Ticket in hand, I head in. I was hoping to walk around and take photos, but the different sections are gated, so instead I find a shady seat on the main stand and look at the spectators near me. Just as I'm settled, something interesting, but not photo-worthy, happens. A spectator walks up to the gate that separates sections, pushes, and walks through. It’s not locked, and there is no security. You can sit where you want, and the separation is just an illusion. A walkabout is available again.
A few weeks earlier, I learned that Transportation has a supporter group with non-Korean members. The group is called the Soju Drinkers. I messaged them when I decided to attend this match, hoping their communication game is not as pathetic as every club I’ve tried to contact in the past. It’s not, and someone answered me a day later. So here I am, heading through the gate to where the Soju Drinkers are gathered in the shade of the scoreboard.
Before I get there, a young man, looking about high school age, spots me and comes to greet me. I later learn his name is Yeong-Han. The others notice him greeting me and rush over. Everyone speaks at least some English and seems happy to see a new face. I also met Dong-Hyeon. I think he's the leader of the group and the one who answered me on Instagram.
Introductions over, we sit and wait for the match to start. While we do, someone in a red IPark appears. The security is so lax that he just walked out of the away area, through the main stand and into the home support section to come greet his friend. There really is no animosity between these two sets of supporters because I suspect they often stand side by side supporting either of the two teams playing today. It's just a matter of which team is your main and secondary team in Busan. (I wonder how Gijang supporters will fit into this friendly arrangement.)
And speaking of lax security, the elementary school-aged youth team that went on the field with the player before the start of the game ran wild. Each received a commemorative ball, and throughout the match, small groups of sky-blue-clad homunculi could be seen running from this side of the main stand to that, into the IPark section, and back again. The running often involved mini-football matches played on the wide open section in front of the VIP section.
Unlike large supporter groups, this small band doesn't start singing and changing an hour to thirty minutes before kick-off and only really gets going once the match is about to get underway. They have one big drum, one small drum, and a flag that they struggle to assemble. In front of them are banners proclaiming their name and ideals. Despite their name, they don’t appear to hold to “ultras” ideals. They seem more interested in supporting grassroots football with families and children as supporters. I also don't recall seeing or smelling any alcohol throughout the match.
The Soju Drinkers sing and chant for much of the match using chants with a surprising amount of English. It’s rare for teams to use more than one or two random English words, but today, I’m hearing complete sentences that make sense. Although they don't chant continuously, they keep up a steady rhythm. When IPark score the first goal, they don't grow despondent and stop, but just "chug along". They don’t stop when BTC equalises, and they definitely don’t stop when BTC takes the lead. One of my favourite moments came at the end of the match as one member struggled to hold back their emotions.
The match was an interesting one. IPark dominated most of the first half and scored first off a penalty, apparently for a bad tackle. I had to find the match online for a closer look because from where we sat, it looked like the IPark player hopped into the air, like a grasshopper on a hot plate, a full second after losing the ball. The replay suggests it’s a definite “maybe”, and I do not fault the referee for his decision. The second half had BTC come out of the gate like bulls possessed. They were physical, sometimes unnecessarily so, and it felt like IPark players were rolling on the ground more than they were playing the game. Still, I didn't feel sorry for them. How do you injure your leg, then roll around and kick out “in pain” so violently that you lift off the ground? That does not seem like the optimal way to prevent further damage to your supposedly injured leg, does it?
BTC’s first goal was the result of a mess in which the IPark defence was nearly nonexistent. The ball was booted across the face of the goal, straight past the defenders. One attacker attempted to score on the near side but missed the ball. The keeper, reacting to the attempt at goal, was caught completely out of position as the ball passed the initial attacker. The ball rolled to the feet of two additional attackers waiting in the box, one of whom knocked it into the net. The second goal came from a ball that was ripped across the pitch from the sideline. A BTC player, seeing the ball heading straight to him, stepped up and rocketed it towards the edge of the goal. With the help of an unexpected bounce, the ball flew past the keeper for a goal that will be memorable for being both beautiful and the game-winner.
Once the player shook hands, both sets of players walked all the way to the opposing goal line to bow to the supporters. I dont know how common it is in Busan, but in Seoul and Gyeonggi, teams rarely bother crossing the halfway line to "say thanks" to the opposition supporters. In return, I don't bother thanking them for their effort on the pitch. Here, however, I'm happy to applaud their efforts.
After the match, I pack my gear and make sure I have everything. When I look up, everyone except two Soju Drinker remains. Even more confusing, all the gear remains in the stand, so clearly they will be back. But where are they now? I look around, hoping to see someone, but eventually I decide to just head home. But as I’m about to leave the grounds, I hear singing and look over to see the Soju Drinkers waiting for the team next to the team bus. I guess I’m going there now.
In typical lower league fashion, there is little fuss. The players arrive in drips, and before they enter the bus, they shake hands with fans and occasionally sign a shirt. Four IPark supporters, still wearing their IPark shirts, are also standing there to ask for autographs and selfies. This is the way it should be. Imagine an FC Seoul supporter in red and black standing between the blue-clad Bluewings supporters near the team bus for an autograph.
Before leaving Busan, I go into the China/Russia/Wild West Town just outside the station to look for something interesting to eat. I settle on what I think are Uzbeki baked goods and head towards the station while I chew and take some photographs. I guess I look Russian enough because a sailor stops me to ask something in Russian, but I speak no Russian at all. He does speak a little English and manages to ask me where he can find Wifi. Lucky for him, most coffee shops have free Wifi and you don't have to be inside to get access to the signal. So I take him to a coffee shop I passed earlier, before heading to the station and home.
It was a nice day out, but I'm not sure I like the cost and rush involved with these faraway teams. I might not get to visit towns like Jinju and Geoje any time soon.
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