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.
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.
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