The Sideline Notes: 8. A Delightful Mess

I intended to watch a match in Namyangju a couple of weeks ago, but put it off in favour of watching HL Anyang claim their 9th Asia League Ice Hockey title. With the ice hockey season over, I’m off to watch the as-yet-unbeaten K4 League leaders. They’ll face the quiet challengers, Pyeongtaek Citizen FC.

As the season progresses, I’m learning more about the league, teams, and players. For instance, Namyangju’s “English” name, and the name on their emblem, is Namyangju FC, but their official Korean name translates to Namyangju Citizen FC. Like Pyeongtaek and most K3-K4 League teams, Nanyangju are a citizen club, owned and operated by its city council.

Unsurprisingly, the league leaders have the best attacking record in the league. Interestingly, the scoring duties are not carried by a single player. Instead, goal-scoring duties are shared by several players. Players to watch are central midfielder/defender Lee Jin-seop. He's started in every league and cup match so far, and looking at his minutes on the field, I’m convinced he’s never been subbed off. Interestingly, the team’s top scorer is defender Hong Dong-Gwan, a former Seoul United player. He was on the roster for all 9 matches, but only started three. In the remaining matches, he was substituted on five times and substituted off four times, meaning he was substituted on and off in the same match at least once. Despite his lack of pitch time, he scored three goals and assisted with another. Pyeongtaek, in comparison, has one clear scorer, Go Byeong-Beom. He has 6 goals, two more than the next highest scorer in the league. Sure, it's still early days for this season, but with some knowledge about the teams, I'm ready to head out.

The subway ride to Namyangju is uneventful. I head into Seoul, transfer at Icheon Station, and head out of Seoul. For a while after the transfer, we stay next to the Han River. I come from a country with few large rivers, and those that we have are not suitable for water travel. Maybe that explains why we don't really have large cities right next to rivers. In my home town there is a stream called, laughably, the Monkey River. It’s barely more than a brook, and you can comfortably step over it for most of the year. The Han River is no brook. It’s large and always full. Once again, I find myself wondering where all the water comes from. I understand rain, and I understand snow, but I don't understand this consistent flow when it hasn't snowed or rained in months.

After a while, we veer away from the river and enter Eastern Seoul. This is not the oldest part of town, but it's obviously not new either. The brand new, giant apartment blocks are missing, and it’s not saturated with franchises or money bling. The businesses here are settled and patronised by locals with established routines. As fast as Eastern Seoul arrives, it disappears, and we pass Seoul Jungnang FC’s home ground just before we enter the tunnel that takes us out of Seoul, into Guri, then on to Namyangju.

Namyangju County is large, and Namyangju City is spread out. Despite being near, um, part of City Hall and Namyangju Sports Complex, I don’t get off at Namyangju Station, but at Donong Station. I'm not even sure there is a station called Namyangju Station. Go figure. The area between the station and the sports complex is interesting. Much of Korea is the same-same with precious little to distinguish one neighbourhood from another. But this area just feels different. Visually, it should be the same, but it’s not, and I struggle to explain why. The two sides of the train track also look different from each other, apartment buildings seem square rather than rectangular, and there are almost no people around. It’s not bad, just different.

I head to a building I found while studying the map of the area, and I arrive at a large, square, and mostly empty building. It's not what I was expecting. It’s an officetel with the first three floors reserved for businesses. Curious, I go in to explore. I climb the escalator in search of a restaurant. The dust on the escalator tells me it hasn't been used recently, if ever. The first floor looks abandoned. There are no businesses near the escalator, and the only obvious businesses are restaurants in the far corners. They are so far apart that you struggle to even tell what it is on the opposite side. Occasionally, I pass spaces being prepared for new occupants, but if 10% of the floor is in use, then it’s a lot. I find a restaurant that specialises in dishes made from red beans. They make three different kinds of Patjuk as well as a Patbinsu. I settle for a, well, Patjuk. It's large, but not heavy, and I leave satisfied.

Next, I make my way through the quiet streets to search for the stadium and eventually reach the sports complex, and I'm struck with a realisation. This is where the town’s population resides on a Saturday afternoon! Children are on two baseball fields, and adults are on the third. The football-tennis courts are packed (is that what the game is called?), and more teams are waiting for their turn to play. Even the football fields are all occupied. One has a match that looks like it has, and I kid you not, a minimum age requirement of 55. On the other side of the football fields, I see the floodlights of the main stadium, and I start making my way to that side. Even this is an adventure, because I have to climb through the field netting, make my way through players getting ready to play, and through three different gates to hit clear space again. And I did this to get to the other side of one single field.

I like the main stadium, despite its running track. The slope of the secondary stands is low, and you feel much closer to the game than you actually are. There are two food trucks just outside the entrance, one selling coffee and one selling expensive roasted meat-on-a-stick. Just past the gate are tables, one of which has cards you can use for the player's signature. I have no idea what the other tables are for.

Entry is free, and there is no restriction on seating, meaning there is no home and away section. This might seem strange to many football fans, but I grew up in a rugby culture where home and away sections are rare. At a rugby match, a green-clad Springbok supporter will happily sit next to a silver-ferned All Black supporter. I was in Dubai during one of the World Cups and found myself in the South African bar for the South Africa vs England match. The place was packed with Saffers, and sitting front and centre was an English fan wearing his white shirt with the red rose on the chest. Every time England scored, he would turn around and give us the finger, just to be pelted with popcorn and pretzels. We lost, he stayed, and everyone enjoyed the rest of the night.

Both sides of the stadium have a roof. The smaller main stand is completely covered, while the opposite side is only covered in the centre. The sides which curve around the track’s bend are uncovered. I sit in the “away” section opposite the main stand. The area is a strange mix of Namyangju supporters and drummers, mostly to my right, and Pyeongtaek supporters and the single drummer, mostly to my left. While the players finish their warm-up, I finish my preparations by pouring a bottle of Nurinmaeul makgeolli into my water bottle. I’ll happily drink straight from the plastic bottle, but I get enough looks already. Both drummers are checking their setups, and a few more spectators arrive. Our preparations are accompanied by English-language pop music. What is this place? Where is the ever-present K-pop?!

Just before the match starts, players come over with team-branded balls to throw to the crowd. However, with no security to speak of, children rush to the edge of the field and get balls handed to them instead. I was tempted to try my luck and see if they would throw a ball to the white face, but that would draw more attention than I am comfortable with.

The match starts and the drumming commences on both sides, signalling my cue to head over for a supporter-watching-football photo. I take the first few, turn on my camera’s display to look at the results and… NO SD CARD! I’d been taking photos for the last hour, of the trip, the stadium, and the fans, with no SD card! This was not the first model of the Canon Rebel series, so why does it not warn me before I start taking photos? I settle for capturing a few more photos with my phone, minus the “artistic flair”.

The match was entertaining despite the scoreline. The first big chance falls to Pyeongtaek. It starts when a ball gets knocked out towards a player waiting on the right wing. He comfortably passes his defender, pushes forward and crosses the ball across the face of the goal where an in-rushing attacker makes head contact, sending the ball just millimetres over the crossbar. Pyeongtaek would have a few more chances throughout the game, but nothing this good. As the first half ticks on, both the rain and Namyangju’s dominance intensify. By the time we reach the second half, the match is mostly being played in the Pyeongtaek half, and spectators are doing their best to stay dry.

It’s a soft rain that’s barely visible. But the light breeze keeps blowing it in under the roof, causing spectators to move further and further back. By the end of the match, almost everyone has abandoned their seats to stand deeper under the roof, while people like me are still sitting, but hiding behind an umbrella like it’s a fortress wall. My umbrella is open, pointing straight ahead, and pulled in as close as is practical. My eyes peek over the rim, and I'm sure I resemble a neighbour spying over a wall. So far, I’ve been to matches in freezing cold, raging winds and torrents of rain. I know this is a season of adventure, but is it too much to ask for a nice day before the blazing sun and stifling humidity of summer arrive? (Sure, Busan was nice, but admitting that would undermine my current complaints.)

Pyeongtaek can count themselves lucky to come away from Namyangju with a point and deny Namyangju a sixth win. Namyangju were creating regular chances, hit the uprights twice, and scraped the crossbar at least three times. But football is a real sport. You win by putting the ball in the net, not by impressing someone next to the field holding up a score for style and technicality. Hopefully, next time I come to Namyangju, I’ll see a result and be able to take proper photos of the day.