26.21 Incheon Again

State of the League

The regular season is nearing its end. After tonight's game, there are only five rounds and three home matches remaining. Amazingly, I have not missed a single home match.

Seoul hosts a struggling Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels tonight, and I'm quietly hoping to see a victory this evening. Incheon has not won in their last ten matches, losing seven of them. Seoul's last ten matches include two wins and two draws against strong teams. Still, form has meant nothing for the 2026 Amazones.

To be clear, this is the same Incheon Red Angels that played in the championship match for every one of the first fifteen WK League seasons and won eleven titles in a row, the last coming as recently as 2023. Just a few years ago, the idea of Incheon not playing in the final was almost unthinkable. Now, the only reason they are not at the bottom of the league is that Gangjin refuses to relinquish the wooden spoon.

Looking at the rest of the league, Suwon and Hwacheon have 24 points still to play for, but I don't see Suwon dropping enough points for Hwacheon to catch up. Just one more win for Suwon should remove even the mathematical possibility of the third-, fourth-, and fifth-placed teams catching them.

Of the remaining three teams, Gangjin looks stuck at the bottom, while neither Seoul nor Incheon looks capable of fighting for that last playoff position.

Odds are the final will be played between Suwon and Hwacheon, and as far as I know, they will play both matches on consecutive Saturdays. That means I will have two more away trips: one an easy hop to Suwon, and one a long ride up to northern Gangwon-do.

Match Preparations

Before the match, I go to HomePlus to see how this branch is handling the changes. It looks better organised than the Suwon branch, but it is the same basic idea. The upper floor is not accessible, and the merchandise has been consolidated onto one floor.

On the refreshment front, there is quite a bit of fried chicken available, but in the drinks section the selection looks more limited than at Suwon. I've been excited about getting a bottle of my favourite makgeolli for the match. However, there is only a single bottle of a brand I might consider if it were offered free.

At least the beer selection is no longer limited to a single brand of alcohol-free, beer-flavoured soda.

I'm not in the mood for a fuss, so I pick up a beer and a burger before heading to the stadium.

New Faces

The usual suspects are at the stadium, including the small group of women who usually sit behind us. I want to greet them, but I can't bring myself to do it.

Why is this so difficult?

Just to my left are two women I have never seen before. In itself, new people are not strange, but they are interesting. They are dressed well, but it is just not "Korean enough". They also look slightly tanned, something that is uncommon in Korea. They are speaking Korean, though.

Throughout the match, they shyly shout encouragement to the team, sometimes throwing in an English word or two. The words are nothing that most Koreans wouldn't use, but it's the pronunciation that draws my attention.

Not only do they look like they've lived outside Korea for an extended period of time, but they also sound like it.

Of course, I don't go and talk to them. I'm shy, and I don't want to be the weird guy who looks like he is chatting up the "new blood".

Next, I greet Incheon Man and prepare my burger for consumption. Usually I set up my banner first, but I'm not even sure I will do it tonight. I'm still unhappy about the team ignoring supporters in the previous two matches.

But just before kick-off, I give in and hang it, but I refuse to do it with good cheer.

Both of the spectators who had shirts in the railing at previous matches here today. I suspect the man who helped us get team shirts lives in Incheon, because I think the last time he was here was also against Incheon.

Just before kick-off, the team gathers for a team photo. They are joined by who I assume is a former player. The number on her back is 2004, and the name is just that number written out in words.

In the following week, there are no articles mentioning who she is, so I'm still in the dark.

Entertainment on the Pitch

The match is an entertaining back-and-forth, with both teams seeing good chances. However, while there is no shortage of chances, the main battle is to see which side can actually convert them.

Incheon seems unable to hit the target even when they are right in front of the goal. Seoul is able to hit the target, if the target is the goalkeeper. Each Seoul attempt goes straight at wherever the goalkeeper happens to be standing, leading to a lot of excitement that ends with "AAAaaah..."

The only goal of the match comes just after the start of the second half. A Seoul corner is played infield for Min I-ji, better known as Han Chae-rin, to swing across the face of goal towards three waiting Seoul players.

Kim Min-ji manages to get a head on it and steer it into the goal. After a few congratulations, the main celebration seems to centre around Han Chae-rin. I'm confused. Did my eyes deceive me?

The back and forth continues, but Seoul holds on for a 1-0 victory, and with this result I notice a pattern. When the team wins, they are eager to thank the supporters and pose for a victory photo. When they lose, they are likely to just walk off.

If anything, they can walk off after a win because it's easy to support them when things go well. But, if anything, they should thank the supporters when they don't leave halfway through another miserable loss.

This really bothers me.

The Final Matches

With this win, Seoul and Incheon swap places in the league.

Three days from now, Seoul has a Saturday match in Sejong. Unfortunately, I will not be able to watch it, not even on the livestream, because Incheon will be in Seoul.

Yes, on Saturday this same week, FC Seoul will host Incheon United at the main stadium, and Incheon Man and I are both planning on being there. 

26.16 Another Trip to Incheon

Today will likely be the last away trip to Incheon for the current season, as Seoul faces the Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels. I’m looking forward to it because it’s a Saturday match, but I am also dreading the journey.

The Red Angels play at Incheon Namdong Rugby Stadium, and no matter how carefully I plan these trips, something usually goes wrong. Still, Saturday gives us plenty of time to work with, so we leave early, figuring four hours is more than enough. We planned to have dinner near Ansan Station before heading to the stadium.

Lunch in Wongok-dong

Many visitors know Itaewon as Seoul’s international neighbourhood, but its reputation is a little outdated. It is still international, but years of gentrification have transformed it from the gritty district that once catered mainly to English-speaking and African expatriates into a much trendier area largely filled with Korean visitors. Redevelopment in nearby residential neighbourhoods also pushed the foreign community further away into the capital.

One expatriate hangout that has hardly changed is Wongok-dong, near Ansan Station. For years it has been home to communities from across Asia, making it one of the best places in Korea to find authentic Asian food. Curiously, though, Filipino restaurants are still surprisingly difficult to find, even here.

Dongdaemun in Seoul is better known for its Central Asian and Russian restaurants, but Wongok-dong has its own thriving community. That is why we make our way to an Uzbek restaurant called Samarkand. Why does it seem like every Uzbek restaurant is called Samarkand anyway?

Their menu perfectly reflects Uzbekistan’s location at the crossroads of Asia. Rich, fatty meats, oily rice and dense breads provide the kind of hearty food needed to endure long, harsh seasons. Alongside them are dumplings that would not look out of place in East Asia, spices that hint at South Asia, and soups that would feel perfectly at home in Russia. The food isn’t particularly cheap, but the portions are enormous. Depending on your appetite, two people could easily share a single meal.

After lunch we browse the small shop attached to the restaurant. I pick up a can of something called Ayran, a fermented milk drink, planning to save it for the match later.

The Oido Curse

Back at Ansan Station, we make the short journey to Oido Station, the station that is responsible for so much past misery. You may recall that on my most recent visit I managed to catch the wrong bus and travel in the complete opposite direction from where I needed to go.

Today isn’t much kinder. We compare every possible route to the stadium, trying to work out which one will get us there the quickest. Amazingly, every combination of buses and trains takes more than an hour, even though the stadium is only about 8.5 kilometres away.

To put that into perspective, I could comfortably cycle the distance in less than thirty minutes.

The match kicks off in less than an hour. I do not want to deal with this stress again, so I suggest a taxi instead. It’s expensive, but some things are worth paying for, and solving another Oido Station disaster is definitely one of them.

A Better Matchday Atmosphere

The stadium feels far more alive than it did on my previous visit, a cold weekday evening. A match on a warm Saturday evening makes a huge difference.

Near the entrance, a small football game offers supporters the chance to win prizes by kicking a ball at targets. We’re the only people nearby, but the two young men running the stand make no attempt to wave us over. Even the two cheerleaders standing nearby seem perfectly content chatting with each other while holding signed footballs, ignoring our arrival. I don’t expect a parade, but we are the only spectators within sight. Even a wave would make their presence seem reasonable.

The volunteers checking tickets are much more welcoming. They immediately remind us to get a QR code if we do not have one yet, before offering noisemakers, folding fans, and small packs of drip coffee. They’re only small gifts, but they make it feel as though the club is making an effort to look after its supporters. We flash our season tickets, collect our freebies and head inside.

We make our way to the away section where Incheon Man is already watching the players warm up. Unlike us, who have to complete what feels like a main quest just to reach the stadium, he lives nearby. In fact, he tells us his high school was right next door. I can’t help feeling a little envious. Imagine having your team practically on your doorstep. Even FC Anyang takes me around forty-five minutes to reach by bike or bus.

We also bump into our acquaintance from HL Anyang. I’d completely forgotten that he supports the Red Angels. He tells us he normally leads the drumming on the Incheon side, but he injured his wrist, so someone else is taking over today.

He confidently tells us Seoul should win because Incheon aren’t playing well at the moment. The funny thing is, I think exactly the opposite.

I’m expecting Incheon to win because Seoul haven’t exactly been in great form either. It’s not often you find two opposing supporters trying to convince each other that their own team is going to lose.

Another Signed Ball

Before kick-off, I notice something interesting. Quite a few supporters are already walking around with signed footballs. For some reason, I suddenly decide I want one as well.

Once the players come onto the pitch, I wander over to the Incheon supporters’ section to try my luck. Thankfully, the atmosphere is a little calmer than it usually is at the Seoul end. There aren’t men trying to grab every ball that’s thrown into the crowd week after week. Just what do they do with all those balls?

Then number 18, Bak Mi-Deum, catches my eye. She gestures towards me, silently asking whether I’d like a ball. I nod, and a second later it’s flying through the air towards me. I make the catch and thank her before heading back to our seats.

I now have a “collection” of two signed balls, and I’m wondering whether I should try to collect one from every WK League club this season. Suwon and Gyeongju sell theirs online, but for the remaining clubs I’ll probably have to rely on Instagram messages. Judging by my previous attempts, that may prove to be the hardest challenge this season.

A Much-Needed Victory

The match begins at a good pace, and immediately it becomes clear that these two sides are evenly matched.

Seoul move the ball around with far more confidence than they have in recent weeks. They even manage to put together some impressive passing sequences. I’m still not entirely convinced that Seoul are suddenly playing brilliant football, though. Part of me thinks Incheon are allowing them more time on the ball.

When Seoul play against a side like Suwon, every touch is immediately pressured. A defender appears almost the instant a player receives the ball. Incheon, by comparison, seem happy to sit off and allow Seoul time to build attacks. It probably isn’t one thing or the other. The reality is likely somewhere in the middle.

As the game settles down, I finally open the Ayran I bought earlier. It does not taste as I would have expected. It’s surprisingly salty and reminds me of drinking liquid feta cheese.

Gogga is sticking with a beer, and we share the biltong I made yesterday. For anyone unfamiliar with it, biltong is South African-style dried beef. Unlike beef jerky, which is dried and cooked using gentle heat, biltong is air-dried and effectively still raw. The seasoning is different too, with coriander forming the backbone of almost every recipe. In my admittedly biased opinion, biltong is the king of all dried meats.

The football and snacks aren’t the only things of interest. To our left sits one of the doggo families. Seoul’s number 2 Bin Hyeon-Jin is suspended after being sent off last week, so instead of playing she spends the afternoon watching from the stand with her family. She only heads down to the pitch during the warm-up, at half-time and after the final whistle.

The supporters to our right also appear to be relatives of one of the players, and I suspect the group a few rows in front of us are as well. It is slightly sad that more than half of the away support is made up of family members.

I also make good on my intention to meet more of the other supporters. I go over and ask the doggo family whether I can take a photo of their fluff ball. It is sporting a fresh haircut, and it’s a good one. No bright colours. No elaborate bows. No ridiculous styling. Just a short, practical trim exactly as a dog should have.

We don’t really chat beyond asking for the photo, but at least we’ve now interacted. Maybe next time I can say hello properly instead of just recognising them from across the stand.

The football also gives me some of my favourite photographs of the season.

One sequence captures the goalkeeper diving full stretch in an unsuccessful attempt to save Seoul’s first-half penalty. The handball decision is obvious. It’s unfortunate for the defender, but there’s no real argument. The shot is clearly heading towards goal, and the player herself doesn’t even try to protest.

A little later I manage to photograph another memorable moment.

The Incheon manager loses his temper after believing his side should have been awarded a corner. Members of his coaching staff actually have to hold him back as he argues with the referee. Somehow the incident only results in a yellow card.

Even better, another photo catches the referee holding up the yellow card while the coach is being restrained. That’s definitely a keeper.

Not long after the manager’s outburst, Seoul produce the moment that settles the match. Kim Min-Ji receives the ball inside the penalty area with plenty of room to work. She shrugs off a defender before calmly placing her shot beyond the goalkeeper to make it 2–0.

The goal celebration is almost as entertaining as the finish. She and Han Jae-Rin launch into what is clearly a rehearsed handshake routine, only for at least one of them to forget the sequence halfway through. The whole thing falls apart, but somehow that only makes it funnier.

The two of them seem to get on really well, and we’ve started jokingly calling Han Jae-Rin “Mi Ni-Ji.”

Han Jae-Rin is number seven. Two sevens make fourteen. Kim Min-Ji wears number fourteen. So naturally Han Jae-Rin is half a Min-Ji, or Kim Min-Ji is double Han Jae-Rin. It’s complete nonsense, of course, but it still makes us laugh.

Watching the replay of the goal afterwards only strengthens my feeling that Incheon give Seoul more freedom than most teams do. The pass to Min-Ji is allowed to reach its target far too easily, and after she receives the ball, only one defender seriously tries to stop her. The other two never really close the space or get between the ball and the goal.

After the final whistle, the mood is completely different from the last time we watched Seoul play. The players gather briefly for a team talk before drifting off to spend time with family and supporters.

Kim Min-Ji calls over the dachshund that usually wears a Seoul shirt before posing for photos with the dog and Han Jae-Rin. Other players wander across to chat with family members in the stands, and everyone seems relaxed and happy.

It’s amazing how different the team looks after a win compared to after a defeat.

This victory pulls Seoul right back into the mid-table battle. They are not far from that elusive playoff position, and their next few league matches are all against similarly inconsistent teams.

Who knows? Maybe this time next month we’ll see Seoul sitting in third place and trying to hold on to a playoff spot.

The SD Card Strikes Again

On the journey home, I start looking through the photos on my camera. Or at least I try to. I remember I never put the SD card back into the camera. Again.

The worst part is that I’d actually intended to do it the day before. Instead, I put the card down “just for a moment,” moved a few things around on my desk, and it promptly disappeared from sight.

Out of sight, out of mind.

I know exactly how to stop this from happening. I also know I’ll probably forget again. It’s unbelievably frustrating.

Still, all isn’t lost. At least I managed to capture a few moments of the day on my phone, even if my best camera never took a single photo.

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Round 16 Results

Incheon Hyunsai Steel Red Angels 0-2 Seoul City Hall Amazones
Suwon FC Women 0-0 Hwacheon KSPO
Gyeongju KHNP 0-0 Sejong Sportstoto
Mungyeong Sangmu 0-1 Gangjin Swans

League Standings

Team	Played	Points
1. Suwon	16	37
2. Hwacheon	14	29
3. Mungyeong	16	23
4. Gyeongju	16	21
5. Incheon	15	21
6. Sejong	16	18
7. Seoul	15	18
8. Gangjin	16	11

26.11 Incheon at Home

It has been 20 days since Seoul's last match and almost six weeks since their last home game. During that time, I attended the AWCL finals and a K3 League match, but this season is about Seoul City Hall Amazones. This is the team I want to follow.

Today, Seoul City Hall Amazones host Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels. Incheon comes into the match sitting second in the league, level on points with Hwacheon at the top and Mungyeong in third. This is the same club that won ten league titles in a row before suffering through a two-season slump. They make several changes during the off-season, and those changes appear to be paying off. Incheon is right back in the title race.

On paper, I expect another difficult afternoon for Seoul. Then again, football rarely follows the script. We won't know the outcome until the final whistle blows.

I head to the stadium straight from work. Along the railway line, I notice the seasonal flowers that are now in full bloom. Korean cities are densely populated and packed with apartment blocks, but whenever nature is left alone, it seems to thrive. This month, the grass is covered by a carpet of yellow flowers.

Although I have already eaten, I stop at HomePlus to buy something to drink during the match. Once again, they do not have the makgeolli I am looking for. In fact, this time they do not have any makgeolli at all. Several refrigerators are stocked with little more than a single brand of soju and one alcohol-free beer brand.

The state of HomePlus has become increasingly difficult to ignore.

Back in 2015, the company was purchased from Tesco by MBK Partners, one of Asia's largest private equity firms. Much of that acquisition was funded through loans, with the repayment obligations ultimately falling on HomePlus itself.

As companies like Coupang reshaped the grocery shopping landscape in Korea, HomePlus struggled to keep pace. Falling profits put pressure on cash flow, and delayed payments to suppliers eventually led some of those suppliers to stop delivering stock altogether.

The result is visible on the shelves. Refrigerators that once offered dozens of choices are now filled with a handful of unfamiliar products. Entire sections feel artificially full. It is a strange sight in what was once one of Korea's major supermarket chains.

The situation is serious for the thousands of people employed by the company. HomePlus entered court-led corporate rehabilitation and began selling off branches in an effort to stay afloat. There is even talk of selling profitable parts of the business, such as HomePlus Express. In the long term, only a handful of flagship locations, including the branch at World Cup Stadium, may remain.

For me, the immediate consequence is much less dramatic. It simply means I will have to buy my makgeolli in advance and carry it with me on match days. It is not a major hardship, but when I have to take it to work before an evening kick-off, it does become a bit of a nuisance. #FirstWorldProblems

Even though I have already eaten, I stop at a convenience store and buy a beer and a cup of Shin Ramyeon. Perhaps I am becoming Korean after all. Gogga is not with me tonight, so nobody is around to question my choices.

When I arrive at the stadium, I immediately spot a familiar face. An acquaintance from the Anyang ice hockey scene has come to support Incheon. We have sat near each other for years, so I walk over to say hello before heading to the home section.

I arrive early enough to watch the warm-ups. The players work through passing drills while the ground staff make their final preparations. One thing catches my attention immediately: Im Seon-Ju is warming up with the rest of the squad. She looks fully fit, and I wonder whether she will finally return to action.

While checking the starting line-ups before the match, I nearly spit out my drink when I see how Fiona Worts' name is written.

Instead of using her actual name, the line-up Romanises the Korean pronunciation: "Pi O-Na Wo-Cheu". It is an unusual choice, especially when simply writing her real name would be much easier.

The most interesting name belongs to Incheon goalkeeper Seong Seoulseorabeol (성서울서라벌).

Most Korean names consist of a family name followed by a two-syllable given name. Single-syllable given names are uncommon, and three-syllable given names are rare. Seoulseorabeol, however, contains five syllables.

According to interviews, there is no special story behind the name. She simply happens to have a very unusual one. She does, however, mention that she has five siblings.

For what it is worth, the longest recorded Korean given name contains thirty syllables: 프라이인드로스테쭈젠댄마리소피아수인레나테엘리자벳피아루이제. Names like this may be why, since 1993, Korean law has limited given names to a maximum of five syllables, meaning Seoulseorabeol sits right on the modern limit.

Not long after I sit down, a group of girls arrive wearing kits that look almost identical to Seoul's. The only difference is the Hummel name across the front instead of Seoul City Hall.

They are one of the club's youth teams. During half-time, somebody nearby asks where they are from and how old they are. I overhear them explaining that they are a middle school team based in Nowon. That catches my attention because Nowon is also home to the former Seoul Nowon United, the club that originally inspired this blog.

The girls behave as you would expect a group of middle school students to behave. They swap snacks, tell jokes, laugh together, and constantly check their phones. Even so, they are far quieter than many of the middle school students I used to work with.

Two things stand out about them during the match.

First, they clearly understand football. They recognise good play immediately. They react to clever passes, understand tactical decisions and know when a foul is justified. Their understanding of the game is probably far better than mine.

Second, they have a remarkable ability to join every chant. The moment anyone shouts in support of Seoul, they instantly respond. A cry of "Seoul Hwaiting!" is always met with an enthusiastic "Hwaitiiiiiing!" They never miss a cue.

Of course, they are still middle school students. Every now and then, one of them becomes distracted by videos on her phone or spends a few minutes taking photos with amusing filters.

The match itself is not a technical masterpiece, but it is entertaining from start to finish. Both sides play aggressively and move the ball quickly. Defenders act as the first line of attack, constantly switching play from one side of the pitch to the other.

Neither team relies heavily on man-marking, which creates plenty of space. Defenders regularly receive the ball, look up, spot an open teammate on the opposite flank and launch long diagonal passes across the field.

The attacking approach from both teams produces a chaotic opening. Incheon score after six minutes. Seoul equalise just two minutes later and then take the lead eight minutes after that. Only during the final twenty minutes do Seoul begin to sit deeper and focus on protecting their advantage.

As the match progresses, fatigue becomes increasingly obvious. Choi Ji-Na suffers from cramps and spends long periods visibly struggling. Despite that, she remains on the pitch and battles through the final stages of the match. Seoul rarely share much information regarding injuries, so it is difficult to know whether fitness concerns are limiting their substitution options.

One player who catches my attention is goalkeeper Kim Jeong-Min. Throughout the match, she seems to spend an unusual amount of time on the ground. Some incidents appear genuine, but others look rather theatrical from where I am sitting. During corners, she goes down with minimal contact, and a hand injury leaves her curled up on the turf. I obviously cannot judge how much pain she is actually in, but from the stands, it sometimes looks a little dramatic.

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2026.05.27 - Seoul City Hall Amazones WFC 2:1 Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels WFC

Round 9 Round-Up

Gyeongju finally recorded their first victory of the season, defeating Sejong 4-2 at home.

The Gangjin-Mungyeong match was postponed, reportedly because of work being carried out at the stadium, while the Hwacheon-Suwon fixture was delayed due to Suwon's AWCL commitments.

With only two matches played, the standings change very little. The only movement sees Seoul and Gangjin swap places, putting Seoul in sixth position.

26.3 The Wilds of Incheon

While browsing the Instagram accounts of the WK League teams, I noticed each team had a post explaining what the QR code we used at the previous match was about. How did I miss this last week? In the posts, we are asked to register with the KWFF site, where we are given a personal QR code to use at matches. Based on the site and my profile, the KWFF will track which matches we attend and add them to our profile. (Update: After this match, there was no change to the "Participation Details" or "Viewing Details" on my profile.) There is also a temporary QR code available on site for those who dont want to register. I save the personal QR Code to my phone for quicker access later.

Namdong Asiad Rugby Stadium is the home field of Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels WFC. I've visited this stadium many times over the years to watch the Korean national rugby team compete in the Asian Rugby Championships and the local edition of the Asian 7s tour. It's a nice stadium, but if you don't live close by, then it's just annoying to reach. I can get a bus from Oido Station, which arrives every 40-60 minutes, or I can use a more frequent bus from Incheon Nangyeong Station, with the Suin-Nundang Line trains arriving every 30-40 minutes. My map app says the bus will arrive soon, and I chose that option.

I've only ever been to Oido station on weekends, and most of the food stalls outside the stations are closed when I pass by. I've always wondered how they make money when they are never open, but now I understand. Evening commuters stream out of the station, and some stop for a quick snack. Off to the side are two racks. The racks contain pamphlets advertising a Bible course and informing on "the good news". Two women stand nearby, earning brownie points with God for doing nothing at all. Honestly, that is the point here?

I head over to the bus stop, happy to see that the bus will arrive in just 6 minutes. The buses going in opposite directions arrive at the same station, and even though they dont stop at the same spot, I'm not aware of that, so when I see my bus arrive, I jog over and jump on. About 10 minutes into the trip, I start feeling uneasy. I look at the map and realise I'm travelling away from the stadium. Not cool! I get off as soon as I'm able, and interestingly, the stop is just a block away from the K7 League, Siheung Division grounds, which I visited two or three years ago. Memories! As mentioned, the bus runs infrequently, and the next bus is 40 minutes away. The match starts in 30 minutes, so a taxi is the only sensible and expensive solution. And they wonder why lower league and women's football is so poorly attended.

I arrive 10 minutes after kick-off. It's obvious because the only people visible are two staff members at the entrance. If the stadium lights were not visible, you'd be forgiven for thinking nothing is happening here. I grab a blow-up noise maker from the table, scan my newly acquired QR code and make my way up the stairs. First, I head around to a photo of the field and stand, and I'm not surprised by how few spectators there are. Maybe I should be because on top of the difficulty of reaching the stadium, it's Friday evening, and it's cold. If this match were not part of my season's adventure, I would never have made this trip.

With the photo collected, find a seat on what seems to be the visiting team side. It's a good thing I packed something warm. The lower parts of the stand are not well covered, and it feels freezing cold. Maybe the people who stayed at home are the clever ones? A few seats from me sits a man whom I remember from the Suwon match. He doesn't seem like he wants to be social, so I ignore him. If I see him at the next match, I will greet him. Maybe by the end of the season, I'll have a new acquaintance. I'm adding him to my side quest to be more social and meet fellow football supporters.

Once I settle in my seat, the frustration of being late starts to dissipate. It's like when you finally take your seat on an aeroplane, and somehow you feel like all your holiday is finally starting. Soon enough, I'm so relaxed that I fish out the tube of potato chips and a can of lemonade from my bag. It's time to start enjoying the match.

For the first half, Seoul plays from our right to our left with the Seoul goalkeeper, Kim Jeong-Mi, in front of us. I know she was with Incheon for a long time, so what must it be like for her to play here today?  As strange as it might feel for her to see players in red uniforms trying to put a ball past her, it must also feel strange for some of the players to hear her shouting instructions on the far side of the pitch instead of behind them.

I get sidetracked, look up Kim Jeong-Mi on my magic rectangle (my phone). Incheon was her first and only club until she signed with Seoul. She spent 21 years here, longer than some players have been alive. She was an Incheon and National Team mainstay for most of her career, but it seems age caught up with her, and during the 2025 season, Jo Eo-Jin replaced her as first-choice keeper, signalling that it might be time to retire or move on. She was clearly not ready to retire.

Around me are a few other Seoul supporters. We are about 20 in total. Most of us are quiet as mice, but that is only slightly less quiet than the Incheon supporters on the other side. Over there, I can head two people and a drum, half-heartedly lead the supporters in cheers. It must be difficult to get 150 spectators scattered over a third of the stand to join in. Every time the cheerleader stops cheering, the stadium is so quiet that we can clearly hear the action on the field itself.

Possibly the noisiest supporters in the whole stadium are two people and their dog, behind me. The dog is wearing a warm shirt and sits inside a carrier. I wish I had a way to shelter from the cold. The couple cheer the on-field action with clack-clack from blue plastic clappers in the shape of hands. Where did they get them? I want one.

The match on the field is interesting. The teams seem well-matched, and momentum shifts from side to side every few minutes. Both teams have their chances.  I didn't grow up playing or even watching football, and there is a lot that I'm not even aware of, so this season I'm trying to learn more about tactics and strategy. In the past, I've always approached football with the mind of someone who just loves watching people compete. But today, I focus on understanding what happens when the goalkeepers have the ball. It seems like a good place to start, because the game comes to a temporary stop, and there is a definite starting point for the action. Looking at the match today, it seems like Seoul is playing a heavy pressing game. At least one of the attackers will always rush the Incheon goalkeeper if they are allowed to. When Seoul is in possession, they seem to favour a slow build-up from the back, until they get to the halfway line, when all bets are off. And that, for now, is the extent of my strategic understanding. I am gathering resources to help me learn, and I'll compare that with what I see on field during the season. Hopefully, it will give me a greater appreciation of the sport.

Today, the deciding goal comes with only minutes left on the clock. And inchen player finds herself with space and runs at the goal, prompting the goalkeeper to rush towards her. When the Incheon player takes the shot, the ball hits the goalkeeper in the face at short range, and she goes down. The ball bounces away, but the goalkeeper remains sitting, immediately raising her hand to indicate that she is injured. A Seoul defender standing next to her also raises her hand to get the attention of the referee. However, when the ball goes straight to an onrushing Incheon player, who looks up, sees the empty goal, and lobs it in. There is nothing illegal about the goal, but an Incheon player was standing right next to the downed goalkeeper, waving her hands, pointing and shouting that the goal is open. The goalkeeper is a dangerous position, and they often risk serious injury to do their jobs. I believe it's just good sportsmanship to stop play, possibly by kicking the ball out, when one of the goalkeepers is down. It is definitely bad sportsmanship to use that opportunity to score on an open goal, and more so to encourage your teammate to do so.

Overall, it was a decent day out. A few things took away from the experience, namely the transportation confusion, the cold, and the manner in which the deciding goal was scored. However, these are not always problems to complain about, because they make our adventures more memorable and give us something to talk about. After all, The Odyssey isn't a great story because Odysseus boarded the KTX and came straight home, is it?

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2026.04.10 - Incheon Hyundai Steel Red Angels 1:0 Seoul City Hall Amazones WFC

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.