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.
2025.04.19 - Namyangju Sports and Culture Center Main Stadium
I’m on my way to the Jungnang District on the eastern border of Seoul, where the aptly named Seoul Jungnang FC plays their home matches. This is a team with a long and fascinating history. It’s is one, if not the only, corporate club in the K4 League.
The team was created in 1982 by an attorney Lee Min-geol, then named Aram FC, to compete in the Seoul City Office Workers' Football Morning League. Ten years later, he changed the name to Mustang FC. The club was always supposed to be about the love of the game, and members often helped each other financially in order to continue playing. In 2002, the team began competing in the Puma Cup Footy League, which would later evolve into the Connie Green Cup, the precursor to the amateur K3 League. The team was briefly named Dongdaemun Mustang Football Club, but when Myeonmok-dong was incorporated into Jungnang-gu, the team name naturally became Jungnang Mustang Football Club.
Lee Min-geol wanted more for the club and teamed up with fellow Korea University graduate and head of the Chorus Law Firm, Park Hyung-yeon, to create a K3 Challengers League team. The team joined in 2012 and was to be called Jungnang Chorus Mustang FC. They've been playing at the tiny Jungnang Community Field since joining the league, and only moved briefly while maintenance work was being done on the field. In 2017, they changed their name again, to the simpler Seoul Jungnang FC, but their emblem still displays Jungnang Chorus Mustang FC, and the main sponsor on their shorts is often Chorus Law Firm. In their early years, the team's primary goal was development. They provided a place for players straight out of high school, as well as university dropouts, to continue their football careers. I would love to speak to someone at the club and ask if they still hold to these values. However, they have no clear contact information, and their disinterest in social media or their site makes a bit more sense now.
Before the match, I researched the squad and player histories. Four former Seoul Nowon United players found a new home at Jungnang, notably the top scorer of the 2024 season, Kim Dong-Ryul. Four players previously played for TNT FC, the K5 that prides themselves on preparing players for professional leagues. An interesting player is #30 Lee Ji-hun. He started at K League 1's Ulsan but struggled to earn game time with one of the strongest teams in the country. He eventually found regular playing time at Gwangju FC; however, he was released when Gwangju was relegated to K League 2. Next, he joined K League 2’s Seongnam, where he remains contracted. Like many professional players, he applied to join the military team multiple times but was never accepted, possibly due to a lack of sufficient first-team appearances. Like many others, he chose the community service alternative, which allowed him to play for a semi-professional team. He’s been on loan to Jungnang since the 2024 season.
Both teams come into the match with no league points. In the Korean Cup, Jungnang failed to make it past Round 1, while Sejong earned its spot in Round 3 the previous weekend by beating a team that barely missed automatic promotion to the country’s top professional league. To be fair, professional teams don't take the early rounds seriously. The team that went to Sejong had only one first-team regular in the lineup and was no better than a reserve team like Daegu B, which is currently competing in K4 League. Jungnang’s field is a short walk from Yangwon Station. The first sign of the team is an emblem on the window of an office under the station building. Except, there is nothing inside, it's a big empty room That's not being used by anyone. A road runs from the station toward the grounds, passing between the train track and a park, which is empty on this unusually frigid day. It’s not my first time at Jungnang, so I know that in better weather, families are scattered about, parents chatting on picnic blankets while children run around on the grass and climb on anything that would allow it. The Seoul Trail, a 160km course that roughly follows the borders of Seoul, passes through this park, and despite the cold weather, I see a fully geared hiker making their way through.
The football field is tucked away in a far corner of the park. It's easy to miss when there is no match. Next to the field is seating, only 5 steps deep, that starts at field level, and it’s just metres away from the sideline. It’s uncommon, even in the K4 League, to be so close to the field. Between the two main seating areas is a structure, on top of which VIP sit. It has a small tiered seating area in the back, for the worst view possible. Towards the front are tables where most of the officials sit with match documents in front of them. The ground floor of the structure houses the dressing rooms. Photos posted on Kakao Map show that the dressing rooms are just two empty rooms with a few chairs and a small table. There are no adjoining toilets, so players must go out and past spectators to reach the public toilets. It’s not every day you get to share urination space with a player, and I was tempted to ask for an autograph just to say I did it.
Across the field, our view of the park is blocked by a small hill. The trees are bare, but between that and the small mountain behind us, it feels like we're surrounded. Towards the left is a small parking area, and on our right, trains regularly approach or leave the station. The weather is mostly overcast, and more than once I have confused the low rumble of a train for distant thunder.
I arrive just before the match starts and decide to get some photos from the outside in. I climb a bank and stand right behind the Sejong goal. The spot is fantastic for photos and gives you a sense of what the goalkeeper sees, but it’s exposed to the freezing wind. Once I'm satisfied that I have at least one useful photo, I go find a seat with the surprisingly large group of visiting supporters. To my right are three members of the Sejong supporters group, and to my left are the visiting casuals. Just past them are the Sejong reserve players and staff. At times, our view is obstructed by the manager and coach, and when the reserves go to warm up, we all lose sight of the entire field for a few seconds as they walk past. Having your view obstructed by the coaching staff is one of the quirks of football at Jungnang Community Field.
The official attendance estimate is only 125 spectators, so it’s not surprising that the spectators are generally quiet. The three members of the Sejong supporter groups, Chungnyeongdan, with their one drum and megaphone, dominate the audible support. They are not as active as supporters of large teams, but they are consistent and don’t stay quiet for extended periods.
For the duration of the match, the weather alternates between combinations of sunny, overcast, snowy, and windy, but it’s bitterly cold the whole time. In the first half, Sejong dominates both possession and territory. The pressure pays off when they score two quick goals, broken up by an unexpected Jungnang goal, completely against the run of play. For the second half, Jungnang comes out ready to fight. They often go into tackles recklessly, but at least the game seems even. Throughout the half, the play swings from end to end, and with about 10 minutes to go, Jungnang equalises. The match ends in a draw, giving both teams their first league points of the season.
Sosabel Sports Town is, at most, an easy 90-minute trip with the walk from the station included. The only transfer is the same one I use every morning, and the walk to the stadium is straightforward. All things considered, it's an easy venue to reach. So, without any time pressure, I'm able to spend my morning relaxing and looking for a restaurant to have lunch at before the match. Unfortunately, relaxing is making me lazy, and I am starting to lose my desire to travel. But the weather is pleasant, and the air is clean, and it would be a terrible waste to sit inside all day. So, get my act together and start preparing to see a new stadium.
Sosabel Sports Town is Pyeongtaek Citizen FC, a semi-professional team established in 2017. In their first year, they finished 3rd in K3 League Basic, a forerunner of the current K4 League, and won promotion to the K3 League Advance. They languished in the bottom half and were eventually relegated to the current K4 League, where they continue their unremarkable performances.
The Pyeongtaek Station is a 30+ minute walk, or a 25+ minute bus ride from the stadium. The station, bigger than most in the subway system, reminds me of Suwon Station, a location I’ve been to many times. Many non-Koreans move about as they arrive, or prepare to depart for all parts of the country. The main difference is that Suwon has more passengers from Asian countries, while Pyeongtaek has more Americans, whom I assume are associated with the base nearby. There is a downtown area near both stations, which is packed with restaurants and shops that serve both locals looking for a night out and the migrant population looking for food from home.
My initial plan was to find a South Asian restaurant that serves Dal, but my laziness and time-wasting ruined that plan. Instead, I must head straight to the stadium, so I join the other recent arrivals and make my way out of the station. There is construction work outside, meaning we get funnelled into a narrow walkway, like cattle leaving the pens to go to the pastures. I navigate the crowd, find the road I need to follow, and set off to the stadium.
Other than a slight curve about halfway there, the road leads straight into the stadium. Along the way, I pass a construction site for Hillstate Apartments. Hopefully, the increase in the local population will boost Pyeongtaek Citizens’ support and attendance. Most semi-professional teams in Korea desperately need more supporters. The Hillstate development is the only new thing in the area. The area is not ancient by any means, but everything just feels old. And the number of vacant premises on the main street makes the local economy seem unwell. From somewhere behind a building, I can hear a rooster crow. Why is there a rooster in the middle of an urban area?
As the small stadium comes into view, I veer off into a convenience store to get something to drink. The choice of the day is soju with orange juice. I pour both into my 750ml water bottle, drop it into my backpack, and walk the final 100 metres. According to K3/4 League rules, we are not allowed to bring alcohol into the stadium, as we are supposed to buy it at the venue. However, I'm yet to see a K3/4 League venue in-stadium refreshment facilities. Even when they have food trucks, those trucks don't sell alcohol. I assume this is why no one seems to care what spectators bring with them.
Note: I unknowingly changed the setting on my camera while walking to the stadium, and all the photos of the match were overexposed. I managed to "recover" them to a point, but this one of a gentleman standing outside the stadium looking in was the only one worth keeping.
The stadium’s capacity is supposed to be 12,000. Maybe the running track is warping my estimate, but it looks more like 8,000 capacity. Most stadiums in Korea are built for public use and, by law, they have to be multipurpose. As far as I understand, the only football-specific stadiums in the country are either World Cup stadiums like Seoul or privately owned like Pohang Steelyard. Daegu, however, has a city-owned, football-specific stadium. How?
Entering the grounds, I see a sign indicating the Home section, and for no particular reason, I go there, intending to look around before choosing a seat. By the entrance are two high school girls, sitting behind a table, next to a sign indicating the entrance fee: 5,000 won for locals and 6,000 won for visitors. I could tell them I live in Pyeongtaek, but it’s 1,000 won for team water or something. Annoyingly, they only accept cash or bank transfers, and they don’t have change for my tenner. *sigh*
The stadium is too big for the K4 League, so we are restricted to the main stand, which can hold about 1500 people. It has comfortable seats with 100-150 spectators spread out on one side. I can't help but wonder if the five spectators in the Away section are actual visitors, or if they just wandered over to that side to escape the “crowd”. Half the home support consists of the youth team dressed up in their tracksuits, and sitting near them are their families. Surprisingly, 5 youth players are non-Koreans. It looks like an interesting team to play for. Also in the Home section is a single man with a giant drum and megaphone. He’s not particularly active with his drum and starts chants at random intervals. The youth team joins in occasionally.
Soon after the start of the match, two girls of possibly high school age arrive to sit near the drummer. One is wearing Pyeongtaek’s away shirt, but the advertising is different from the current shirt, so I guess it’s from a previous season. Her shirt is even signed by a player. But I decide she is a serious fan when I see the second shirt from yet another season come out. She’s been here for at least two years already.
The great thing about this girl is that she does not care what others think of her. She shouts and sings with the drummer, and waves her extra shirt enthusiastically whenever a player comes close enough to see her. As the game continues, she gets louder, so much so that her friend puts an empty seat between them. When you are part of a large team's home support, you're surrounded by 500 fans just as mad as you are. But when you're the only one in a group of 150 spectators cheering this hard, you stick out like a sore thumb. She was amusing, and some people were laughing at her, but clubs should feel lucky to have even one person so dedicated in the stands, and Pyeongtaek has two.
Near the end of the first half, three high school girls arrive and sit behind me. They wear similar Adidas tops, one red, one white, one black. Maybe they were wandering around, bored, heard something in the stadium, and decided to investigate the noise. They are so lost that they only learn one of the teams is Pyeongtaek when the drummer randomly breaks into a chant, and they spend about 5 minutes trying to figure out who the team wearing white is. (Hint, the names are on the scoreboard.) At times, these girls were more entertaining than the match. They were amazed by everything: the ball being kicked high, a player running fast, a yellow card being shown, and two pigeons flying overhead.
During halftime, I wander over to the Away section. There's nothing to separate us or prevent me from going in, and I enter to see if the view might be better from that side. It isn’t. I also go down to the entrance to see if they're selling tickets for away supporters. They are, but at double the price. This is something that pisses me off. Someone travels a few hours and many kilometres to support their team, just to be charged double for, at best, the same facilities as the home supporters. And this nonsense happens at all levels. Don't even get me started on how the professional teams treat the visiting team’s supporters.
But I haven't mentioned the game yet. Gijang put up a good fight, and I feel they were better for most of the match. They were especially dangerous down the left. Unfortunately, a momentary lapse of concentration during the first half sees them concede two goals in under 60 seconds. The first goal came from a horrible back pass. It was directed to no one in particular and came to a stop halfway between the last defender and the keeper. While the Gijang players were pointing at each other, Pyeongtaek’s striker rushed in to take the ball and slot it into the net. The second was from a combination of dodgy defending and a lucky header. Gijang kept fighting and pulled one back, but it was not enough. The team may only be two months old, but they are showing promise.
With the game finished, it's time to make the short trek back to Pyeongtaek Station. The walk back is uneventful, and the only mildly interesting thing to happen is that I get the express train, saving me a whopping 15 minutes on my trip. Overall, the day was fairly boring, but I'll take much of the blame for that.
There've been multiple semi-professional teams in Sejong City in recent years. The WK League team Sejong Sportoto WFC has called the city home since 2019, and between 2022 and 2024 FC Sejong (formerly Sejong Vanesse FC) played here. At the end of the 2024 season, FC Sejong was suspended from participating in the 2025 season due to not paying player wages, and they subsequently decided to cease operations completely. Within weeks, as a new team, Sejong SA FC was created to enter the K3/4 league structure starting in 2025. It is this team I'm on my way to watch today.
Sejong City itself is spread over an extensive area, with the Citizen Stadium located on the edge of what seems to be the least populated urban area. There is no direct access to the stadium from my home, and I must take the subway, then two buses, just to get close enough to walk to the stadium. That's a three-hour trip, one way, if transfers are kind to me.
But that does not mean it is a horrible trip. Of course, there is the inconvenience of multiple transfers, and sitting for at least two and a half hours while constantly looking at the map on my phone to make sure I'm still going in the correct direction, but it's perfect for an adventure. I start with a ride down Line 1 to Cheonan Station. From Cheonan, I get a bus that meanders Southwards through the City and into the middle-of-nowhere countryside. Once we hit the countryside, the driver turns into a rally driver, and we must hold on and pray we don't tip over somewhere along the winding roads. While holding on, I must also look for landmarks and find them on the map to confirm my location, because I'm not sure what will happen if I get off at the wrong transfer point. Did I mention we're in the middle of nowhere?
There are only 5 people on the bus by the time we get to the transfer point, but I'm not the only one getting off. I am, however, the only one standing there looking lost. The other passenger immediately takes out his phone and orders a taxi to take him where he needs to be. I've only done half the bus part of my trip, and a taxi to Sejong will cost a fortune, so I have to wait for my next bus, which may or may not come soon.
The bus eventually appears around the corner, and I stick my arm out for a good while until I'm sure the driver knows I need to board. I really don't want to miss the bus and have to wait 30-45 minutes for the next one. My inexperience with taking multiple buses made me paranoid, and I planned a huge time buffer in case I got lost. So, even if I do screw up somewhere, I'm confident I'll be able to recover. Not that I want to go through that mess, though.
On the new bus, I check the map for a few minutes before I'm satisfied that I'm heading in the correct direction, then settle in knowing I don't need to worry again until we hit a clearly urban area. On the way, I learn something interesting. Korea University has a huge campus in Sejong. This is the same campus where the university's women's team plays, the team that would win the Queen's Cup later in the season.
As expected, I arrive well before kick-off, and I start my search for a comfortable and affordable coffee shop to stay warm in. Unsurprisingly, there isn't much in this area, just a coffee shop or two, a few meat restaurants, and a Kimbab Changguk if you venture too far off the main road, as well as a Paris Baguette and a convenience store. There is ALWAYS a Paris Baguette and a convenience store.
I choose one of the coffee shops and settle in to do some productive time-wasting. I'm so early that I see the opposition team bus pass by. There is even enough time for some of their management to come to the coffee shop for coffee. I really hope my planning ability will improve as this year's adventure unfolds.
Remember the Kimbab Changguk I mentioned? When lunchtime arrives, I find it and order a plate of good old Kimchi Fried Rice. After lunch, I slowly make my way towards the stadium along a small road with apartments on one side and small-scale farms on the other. Here I find a bungabbang shop. Not a stand, but a permanent structure dedicated to the making of this delicious winter snack. It's an odd location, but I don't care because how can you say "no" to a warm Fishy-Bread in cold weather like this?
With a hot snack in hand, I walk the final 300 or so metres to the stadium, while enjoying the blessing and curse of bungabbang. Blessing: The hot snack keeps your hands nice and warm. Curse: Trying to eat it results in heavy open-mouthed breathing as you try to cool the scolding bite on your tongue.
Sejong SA FC went all out for this first game of the season. They have four food trucks selling coffee and food. Those used to attending matches featuring bigger teams will scoff at this, but down here in the K4 League, it's a luxury when you have a convenience store nearby.
As is common for K3 and K4 League matches, there's no entry fee, but there are volunteers sitting at the main entrance giving away face tattoos. I'm not interested, so I make my way up onto the pavilion. For all the effort it took to get here, I'm just happy it's the correct day and found the venue without any fuss. I find a seat behind the Daegu B supporters and settle in for kick-off. As I look at the Daegu fans, I wonder to myself what kind of supporter travels this far to cheer on the B team, but then I remember that I travelled all the way here to support neither team. I guess they are "my people".
Before the match starts, we have the obligatory opening ceremony. This one is longer than usual because we have to introduce everyone and their dog. Actually, they don't introduce the dog, but they definitely should have. Someone's dog made it onto the playing field, and during the ceremonial kick-off, it sees the opportunity to play and runs full pelt between the balls. It's not chasing the balls, no, just running for the pure joy of it. Simple pleasures make Dog happy. (You can see it arrive on the scene about 90 seconds into the video at the end of this post.)
During the match, I wander around to look at the spectators and the surroundings. On the opposite side of the main pavilion, I find more farms as well as Sejong's small fan group. I wonder if they supported the previous team, and if they attend the WK League matches, which, as far as I know, are played at the same venue. There are also a fair number of regular spectators. Other than the two cheering squads, nothing is interesting about the spectators, so I settle in to watch the rest of the match.
The match is okay, but nothing special. Sejong scores first, and early, but despite a brave defence, they are just not able to hold off their professional opposition. Before the half is done, Deagu B is ahead 1-2, and they add one more in the second half.
After the match, on the way to the bus stop, it starts raining. I'm not prepared for rain! But there is nothing to do about it, so I just try to get to the bus stop as quickly as possible, hoping my bus comes quickly. I don't look forward to the travel stress of getting to Cheonan Station, but such is the adventurous life, I guess.
I doubt I will ever go to Sejong again if it involves public transport, but I'm glad I finally made it.
2025.03.01 - Sejong Citizen Stadium
Sejong SA FC 0:5 Daegu FC B
Note: The original owners of FC Sejong have since created a new club called Seoul Phoenix FC and entered them into the Malaysian semi-professional league system. I don't understand how it's possible, but they are a Korean team, playing in the Malaysian leagues, claiming the history of FC Sejong.
The 2025 football season has finally arrived, and the first leagues to engage in battle are the Professional K League 1 and semi-professional K4 League. In the K League 1, FC Anyang are set to play their first-ever top-tier league match against the team who they dislike most, FC Seoul. As an FC Seoul supporter, I would like to be there, but that is not part of the plan this year. Instead, I’m off to Yeoncheon for the first round of K4 League. No regrets.
Yeoncheon FC is, as the name suggests, based in Yeoncheon County. It's a small county with only 35,000 people, and much of it borders North Korea. This team is not the first to play here, but they are new to the area. The team's turbulent history saw it starting out in Chungju as a city-owned team, changing ownership into private hands, fighting multiple financial controversies, leading to Chungju City refusing to renew the stadium use agreement. With nowhere to play their football, management was forced to look for a new home, which they found in Yeoncheon.
On the Seoul Subway system, Yeoncheon is the end of the line in the real sense of the phrase. Yeoncheon Station is the Northernmost and final station of Line 1. I start on Line 4, but the moment I transfer to Line 1, I’m reminded why it has a reputation for being the strangest line in the system. The cars are packed despite it being a morning train heading out of Seoul. 97% of the passengers appear to be retired, and with them comes their flair. Coloured sunglasses, wild scarves, canes, odd leather shoes and flamboyant hats abound. And those are just the men. At least I’m not put in a coma by the smell of mothballs. For better or worse, old Koreans do not like to sit at home and die. They go out with a bang, and it's great.
I expect passengers to disembark as we cross the borders of Seoul, but that does not happen. At least half of the passengers stay on to Yeoncheon. Is Yeoncheon bigger and more important than I was led to believe?
By the time we reach Yeoncheon I’ve been on the train for almost two hours, and I need a bathroom. However, the train was packed with elderly people, so everyone else was also heading there. Am I getting old? As I move with the crowd, I can’t help but feel that, yes, maybe I’m old now.
No surprise, there is a queue for the urinals. In front of me is a man who looks like he’s wearing four thick layers, and about a minute before there is even a urinal open, he starts fishing for his penis under all the layers. Most of us there would not fault him overly much, but does he have to hum to himself while doing the fishing? I haven't even left the subway system, and I can already call the trip an adventure.
Crises averted, it’s time to head out into my first town of the season. Yeoncheon itself is small, maybe even tiny. Where did all the passengers disappear to?! As I wander around, I’m struck by the extraordinary number of gukbap and sundae restaurants as well as the baffling number of spiffy-looking coffee shops separating the restaurants. The combination just does not seem right. The streets are quiet. So quiet that the traffic lights on the main street are switched off. Again, where did all those passengers go?!
We are barely out of winter, and we’ll be sitting exposed to the elements, so before heading to the match, I need to find something to eat. It’s no surprise that I find a Gugkbab restaurant open, right next to the 30-metre-long central market with its 10 vendors. Seriously, where did all those passengers go?!
With a belly full of warm food, I head out. The stadium is a 15-minute walk from the station and can hold 9000 spectators. But getting to the stadium is the easy part. Getting into the stadium is the real challenge. When you arrive, you have the options of going up a ramp that seems to lead up to the back of the seating areas or staying on the ground floor and walking alongside the stadium. From the outside, the main stand looks to be elevated, so it’s reasonable to assume we should go up to find the entrance to the eating area, but like many of us come to learn, all those gates are closed, and we end up walking over and down the other side.
I find the entrance on the ground floor, and as I enter, I see the teams lined up to enter the arena, Yeoncheon on the left, Pyeongchang United on the right. Next to Yeoncheon are two lines of children, ready to go onto the field. No one explained to them that one line should accompany the Pyeongchang players. There hasn't been football in the town for a few years, so we can forgive them for not knowing the ins and outs yet. The “security” in the stadium is so lax that one father has his little girls walk up to the players to pose for a photo. Not even the players notice as they are too distracted by two lines of noisy boys.
After a minute or two trying to find out where to go, I notice someone entering a door behind which is a staircase. I follow them and we make our way up to where the seats are. Officially, 538 spectators are seated on the main stand, though how they would know that is beyond me. No tickets were given out, and we weren’t counted as we entered. I find a seat to the side, hoping to get some useful game photos, just in time to see the players take the field for the pre-game introductions.
Possibly the most entertaining part of the whole match is the children. The boys who came onto the field with the players to line up with them are dismissed before the team photos are taken. But they don't leave the field in an expected, orderly manner. Instead, they run off the field, in a screaming ball, triggering universal laughter in the stands. But they are not finished. They spent half of the match trying to one-up each other while performing one chant, over and over, louder and louder. From time to time, they get bored and start running around, kicking a ball that appeared out of nowhere, before resuming the single chant.
But the most memorable child, the most memorable thing about the whole day, is a little girl who is here with her parent. I’m not good at guessing the age of children under 6, but she was old enough to walk, talk and most importantly, climb. She was dressed for winter, complete with a pink jacket, pink gloves, and a pink beanie. And she was exploring. Somehow she made it down 4 steps/seats and wanted to come back. Because she is barely bigger than the steps, getting back involves climbing. I watch her lean in, put her hands on the step and lift her stubby little leg up and on. Then, as she pushes herself up, she utters this unforgettable phrase: “Oh-choh-cohgi! Museoweo!” And each time she climbs a step, she says: “Oh-choh-cohgi!” The image of her climbing and “Oh-choh-cohgi!”-ing like an old woman will forever be stuck in my head.
The match was fun, even if it was completely one-sided. Yeoncheon holds on bravely and finishes the first half only one goal down. But their inability to complete even simple short passes, and the keeper fumbling every time an attacker rushes him, lets them down completely. The first half ends with Pyeongchang United leading 0-1, but by the time the final whistle blows, they are 3 0-5 ahead. It's a fantastic start for Pyeongchang, but a nightmare first home match for Yeoncheon.
2025년 축구 시즌이 드디어 도래했고, 가장 먼저 맞붙은 리그는 프로 K리그1과 준프로 K4리그입니다. K리그1에서는 FC안양이 가장 싫어하는 팀인 FC서울과 사상 첫 1부 리그 경기를 치를 예정입니다. FC서울의 서포터로서 꼭 참가하고 싶었지만 올해 계획에는 포함되지 않았습니다. 대신 K4리그 1라운드를 위해 연천으로 떠납니다. 후회하지 마세요.
연천 FC는 이름에서 알 수 있듯이 연천군에 연고를 두고 있습니다. 인구가 3만 5,000명에 불과한 작은 군으로, 대부분 북한과 국경을 접하고 있습니다. 이 팀이 처음 출전한 것은 아니지만, 이 지역에 처음 온 팀입니다. 충주에서 시 소유 팀으로 시작해 소유권을 개인 소유로 바꾸고 여러 재정적 논란에 맞서 싸우며 충주시가 경기장 사용 계약 갱신을 거부하는 파란만장한 역사를 가진 팀입니다. 축구를 할 곳이 없어 경영진은 새로운 보금자리를 물색할 수밖에 없었고, 연천에서 이를 발견했습니다.
서울 지하철 시스템에서 연천은 이 문구의 진정한 의미에서 노선의 끝입니다. 연천역은 1호선의 최북단이자 종착역입니다. 4호선에서 출발하지만 1호선으로 환승하는 순간 왜 시스템에서 가장 이상한 노선으로 유명한지 다시금 생각납니다. 서울을 출발하는 아침 열차임에도 불구하고 차들이 꽉 찼습니다. 승객의 97%가 은퇴한 것처럼 보이고, 은퇴자들과 함께 그들의 감각이 돋보입니다. 컬러 선글라스, 야생 스카프, 지팡이, 이상한 가죽 신발, 화려한 모자가 가득합니다. 그리고 그들은 바로 남자들입니다. 적어도 나방 냄새 때문에 혼수상태에 빠진 것은 아닙니다. 좋든 나쁘든 한국 노인들은 집에 앉아 죽는 것을 좋아하지 않습니다. 그들은 펑 소리를 내며 외출하는데 정말 좋습니다.
서울의 국경을 넘을 때 승객들이 내릴 것으로 예상하지만 그런 일은 일어나지 않습니다. 승객의 절반 이상이 연천에 머물고 있습니다. 연천이 제가 생각했던 것보다 더 크고 중요한가요?
연천에 도착할 때쯤이면 기차를 탄 지 거의 두 시간이 지났는데 화장실이 필요해요. 하지만 기차는 노인들로 붐비고 있어서 다른 사람들도 모두 연천으로 향하고 있어요. 제가 나이가 드는 걸까요? 사람들과 함께 움직이다 보니 네, 어쩌면 이제 늙었을지도 모른다는 생각이 들어요.
놀랍지 않게도 소변기 줄이 서 있습니다. 제 앞에는 두꺼운 옷을 입은 것처럼 보이는 남자가 있는데, 소변기가 열리기 1분 전쯤 모든 옷 아래에서 음경을 찾기 시작합니다. 우리 대부분은 그를 지나치게 탓하지 않겠지만, 낚시를 하면서 혼자서 흥얼거려야 할까요? 저는 지하철 시스템을 떠나지도 않았고, 벌써 이 여행을 모험이라고 부를 수 있습니다.
위기를 피할 수 있었고, 이제 시즌 첫 번째 마을로 떠날 시간입니다. 연천 자체는 작을지도 모릅니다. 승객들은 모두 어디로 사라진 걸까요?! 방황하는 동안 국밥과 순대집의 수가 엄청나게 많고, 식당을 분리하는 매운맛 커피전문점의 수가 놀랍습니다. 조합이 제대로 되지 않는 것 같습니다. 거리는 조용합니다. 메인 스트리트의 신호등이 꺼질 정도로 조용합니다. 다시 말하지만, 그 승객들은 모두 어디로 갔을까요?!
겨울이 거의 오지 않았고, 다양한 요소에 노출되어 경기장으로 향하기 전에 먹을 것을 찾아야 합니다. 10개의 노점상이 있는 30미터 길이의 중앙 시장 바로 옆에 국밥집이 문을 연 것은 놀라운 일이 아닙니다. 정말로 그 승객들은 어디로 갔을까요?!
따뜻한 음식이 가득한 배를 들고 밖으로 나갑니다. 경기장은 역에서 도보로 15분 거리에 있으며 9000명의 관중을 수용할 수 있습니다. 하지만 경기장에 도착하는 것은 쉬운 일입니다. 경기장에 도착하는 것은 정말 어려운 일입니다. 도착하면 좌석 뒤쪽으로 이어지는 경사로를 올라가거나 1층에 머물며 경기장을 따라 걷는 옵션이 있습니다. 외부에서는 메인 스탠드가 높아 보이므로 식사 공간 입구를 찾기 위해 올라가야 한다고 생각하는 것이 합리적이지만, 많은 사람들이 배우러 오는 것처럼 모든 게이트가 닫혀 있고 반대편을 오르내리게 됩니다.
1층 입구를 발견하고 들어가자 경기장 입장을 위해 팀들이 줄을 서고, 왼쪽 연천, 오른쪽 평창 유나이티드가 보입니다. 연천 옆에는 두 줄의 아이들이 경기장에 나갈 준비를 하고 있습니다. 아무도 평창 선수들에게 한 줄이 동행해야 한다고 설명하지 않았습니다. 몇 년 동안 이 마을에 축구 경기가 없었기 때문에 아직 안팎을 모르는 그들을 용서할 수 있습니다. 경기장의 '보안'이 너무 허술해서 한 아버지는 어린 딸들을 선수들에게 다가가 사진을 찍기 위해 포즈를 취하게 합니다. 시끄러운 소년들의 두 줄 때문에 선수들조차 눈치채지 못합니다.
1~2분 정도 어디로 가야 할지 고민하던 중 누군가 계단 뒤에 있는 문으로 들어오는 것을 발견했습니다. 저는 그들을 따라가서 좌석이 있는 곳으로 향합니다. 공식적으로 메인 스탠드에 538명의 관중이 앉아 있지만, 그들이 어떻게 알 수 있을지는 저를 넘어섭니다. 티켓도 나눠주지 않았고 입장할 때도 집계되지 않았습니다. 경기 전 소개를 위해 선수들이 경기장에 나서는 모습을 보기 위해 유용한 경기 사진을 찍기 위해 옆자리에 앉았습니다.
경기 전체에서 가장 재미있는 부분은 아마도 아이들일 것입니다. 선수들과 함께 경기장에 나온 소년들은 팀 사진을 찍기 전에 퇴장당합니다. 하지만 그들은 예상대로 질서정연하게 경기장을 떠나지 않습니다. 대신 비명을 지르는 공을 타고 경기장을 뛰쳐나가 관중석에서 보편적인 웃음을 유발합니다. 하지만 경기가 끝난 것은 아닙니다. 경기의 절반은 서로의 실력을 겨루는 동시에 한 번의 구호를 반복하고, 더 크고 크게 연주합니다. 때때로 지루해진 아이들은 갑자기 나타난 공을 차며 뛰어다니기 시작한 후 한 번의 구호를 재개합니다.
하지만 하루 종일 가장 기억에 남는 아이는 부모님과 함께 이곳에 온 어린 소녀입니다. 저는 6세 미만의 아이들의 나이를 추측하는 데는 서툴지만, 그녀는 걷고, 말하고, 무엇보다도 등반할 수 있는 나이였습니다. 그녀는 겨울용 옷을 입고 분홍색 재킷과 분홍색 장갑, 분홍색 비니를 착용하고 있었습니다. 그리고 탐험을 하고 있었습니다. 어떻게든 그녀는 4계단/좌석을 내려갔다가 다시 오고 싶어했습니다. 계단보다 겨우 키가 큰 아이였기 때문에 다시 오르는 것은 등반과 관련이 있습니다. 저는 그녀가 몸을 기울이는 모습을 지켜보며 계단에 손을 얹고 뭉툭한 작은 다리를 위아래로 들어 올립니다. 그런 다음 스스로를 밀어 올리면서 그녀는 잊을 수 없는 말을 남깁니다: "오-초-코-기! 무소웨!" 그리고 계단을 오를 때마다 이렇게 말합니다: "오-초-코-기!" 그녀의 등반 이미지와 "오-초-코-기!"- 할머니처럼 노래하는 모습은 영원히 제 머릿속에 남아있을 것입니다.
경기는 완전히 일방적이었지만 재미있었습니다. 연천은 용감하게 버티며 전반전을 단 한 골만 내주고 마쳤습니다. 하지만 간단한 짧은 패스조차 완성하지 못하고 공격수가 돌진할 때마다 골키퍼가 더듬거리며 완전히 쓰러뜨립니다. 전반전은 평창 유나이티드가 0-1로 앞서며 끝났지만, 마지막 휘슬이 울릴 때쯤이면 0-5로 3점 차로 앞서고 있습니다. 평창에게는 환상적인 출발이지만 연천에게는 악몽 같은 첫 홈 경기입니다.
I’m an FC Seoul supporter, not so much by choice as by circumstance. The first match I ever watched in Korea was at FC Seoul vs Ulsan. Daejan still had short hair, and Adi still had long hair. And not only where FC Seoul the first, but also the easiest team to reach. Two or three years later, I started attending matches regularly and eventually became a season ticket holder. I was at the match when they won the Korean FA Cup in 2015, and I was at every home match when they took the league title in 2016.
Then Hwang Sun-hong took over as manager, and everything changed. The problem for me was not that FC Seoul were struggling, but that they didn't seem interested in winning. I don't mind watching a losing team, but they didn't seem to care, which made me not care, and I stopped going altogether.
While still a season ticket holder, I moved closer to Seoul and had access to the subway system and to many more teams. I learned about the K3 League and free matches at stadiums hidden between apartment buildings. I went to watch Seoul Martyrs lose by amazing margins. I travelled to Chuncheon to meet fellow football watchers to see if the new Martyrs coach would make a difference. I went to Goyang where I was approached by a player from Africa, asking if I’m a scout or if I know a scout.
During the 2014 season, I went to Nowon to watch Seoul United FC vs Icheon Citizen. I immediately felt an affinity with the club and would go watch a match there at least once a season after that. Seoul United FC was formed when two amateur teams joined to enter the new K3 League. The club had dreams of being a home-grown Seoul team, for the fans, by the fans. At this match, I sat on the side of the visitors because I spent a few years working in Icheon. But on the opposite side of the small stand were four guys with a drum, singing and chanting in support of United. This tiny group of supporters and the history of the team left an impression on me, and they became the amateur team I supported.
Seoul United won the inaugural season of the K3 League, but as is often the case in non-professional leagues, they struggled financially. The team were never able to repeat the feat of their first season and became a consistent bottom-half team. When the K3 league was split into two, they were relegated to the then K3 League Basic, and when the National League joined the K3 League, United were placed in the K4 league we know today. And this is where this story begins.
Just as in K3 League, the now Seoul Nowon United FC still struggled. They entered the 2024 season with a 9-point penalty because, for no clear reason, they decided not to play their final match of the 2023 season. It was going to be another year with no hope for promotion. Despite the penalty, they were chugging along and quietly accumulating league points. Keeping only half an eye on the lower league, I only started noticing them as the final rounds approached and United were somehow in the mix. The 2024 season was uncharacteristically congested. One or two wins could easily see a team jump multiple league positions. It was easy for a team to be near the bottom of the league, but just a win or two away from the promotion zone. Seoul United was just that team. With the points deduction, they were hiding just out of sight.
I don't recall the exact standings, but going into the final round of the season, United were in 9th place, and I was predicting that, on form, they would be lucky to finish 5. Still a fantastic result considering the season. But, there was a chance, a tiny chance, that they could qualify for the single playoff spot, and I wanted to be there just in case. So I paid Nowon a semi-annual visit to see what would happen. And boy, am I glad I was there. United scored a 6-0 victory over fellow promotion hopefuls. And with some good results from other matches, they managed to leapfrog everyone and finish the season in 8th. The team went to Pocheon for the promotion-relegation playoff, where they suffered a heartbreaking 2-3 loss because their star player and league’s leading scorer, Kim Dong-wook, didn’t have permission to play after the regular season.
The leader of the team's small supporters club wrote this just after their loss in the final game:
오늘 우리는 패배했지만 실패하지 않았다.
적지 한가운데에서 우리 팬들의 응원으로 경기장을 가득 채웠고, 주전 스쿼드를 쓸 수 없는 상황에서도 상위리그 팀을 압도하며 90분 내내 당당하고 치열하게 모든 힘을 다해 싸웠다.
17년간 수많은 동지와 적이 우리의 곁을 떠나갔지만, 우리는 죽지도 잊혀지지도 않고 또 한 시즌을 살아남았다.
우리는 무수히 패배했고 무수히 좌절했지만 결코 버릴 수 없는 꿈을 위해 다시 내년 봄 마들에 설 것이다. 우리가 포기하지 않기에, 서유는, 노원은 절대 실패하지 않는다.
“2024 시즌을 함께 한 모든 분들 고생 많으셨습니다.”
Approximate translation:
*Today we lost, but we didn't fail.*
*We filled the stadium with our fan support in the middle of the enemy territory, and even though they could not use the main squad, they overwhelmed the higher league team and fought with all their might for 90 minutes.*
*For 17 years, many comrades and enemies have left our side, but we survived another season without dying or being forgotten.*
*We have been defeated and frustrated countless times, but we will stand again and the fountain of our dream will not be abandoned. Nowon, never fails because we will never give up.*
*Thank you for all your hard work in the 2024 season.*
As the 2025 season approached, I started learning more about the teams and leagues. Despite being interested in lower league football, I never really made an effort to find out just who the teams and players were. I was looking at home grounds, reading news about new teams and just generally spending too much time planning weekend adventures.
And then tragedy struck. Seoul Nowon United FC posted on Instagram that there were internal conflicts, and Nowon Council revoked, or at least did not renew, the agreement for the club to play at Madeul Stadium. With no grounds to play at, and the start of the season so close, they were forced to withdraw and be banned from the league for the 2026 season. Management decided they would disband the team instead, hinting that they might be back someday.
I had no team to follow, but there was still a league and the hope that the team would come back. And that the new adventure was created, visit every team in the K4 league at least once, and sprinkle in some visits to close K3, K5-7 and WK League teams, and document the experience. Specifically, I want to document the off-field action, the travels to get there and the happenings at the match, not the on-field action.
And with that plan in mind, and a notebook in hand, I’m off to watch some K4 League.
저의 팀은 FC서울입니다. 제가 한국에서 처음 본 경기는 FC서울 대 울산 경기였습니다. 그때 데얀은 짧은 머리를 하고 있었고, 아디는 긴 머리를 하고 있었습니다. 그리고 가장 처음 경기를 본 팀일 뿐만 아니라, 가장 쉽게 갈 수 있는 곳이기도 했습니다. 그 후 2-3년 후에는 정기적으로 경기를 보러 가기 시작했고 결국 시즌 티켓 소지자가 되었습니다. 2015년 대한민국 FA컵 우승 당시 저는 경기장에 있었고, 2016년 리그 우승 당시에는 홈 경기마다 있었습니다.
그런데 황선홍 감독이 부임하면서 모든 것이 바뀌었습니다. 저에게 문제는 FC서울이 힘들어하는 것이 아니라 우승에 관심이 없는 것 같다는 점이었습니다. 지는 팀을 보는 것은 괜찮습니다. 그러나 더 이상 신경 쓰지 않는 팀의 태도는 제가 팀을 신경 쓰지 않게 만들었고, FC서울의 게임을 보러 가지 않게 되었습니다.
시즌 티켓 소지자였을 때 저는 서울 근처로 이사하게 되었고, 지하철을 통해 더 많은 팀을 보러갈 수 있게 되었습니다. K3리그와 아파트 건물 사이에 숨겨진 경기장에서 벌어지는 무료 경기에 대해 알게 되었습니다. 서울 마터스가 놀라운 차이로 지는 모습을 보러 갔습니다. 새로운 감독이 변화를 불러올지 알아보기 위해, 다른 축구 팬들을 만나기 위해 춘천으로 여행을 갔습니다. 고양에 갔을 때는 아프리카에서 온 선수가 제가 스카우트인지, 아는 스카우트가 있는지 물어보았습니다.
2014 시즌 동안 서울 유나이티드 FC와 이천 시티즌의 경기를 보러 노원에 갔습니다. 그 후 한 시즌에 한 번 이상 그곳에서 경기를 관람하곤 했습니다. 서울 유나이티드 FC는 두 아마추어 팀이 새로운 K3 리그에 합류하면서 창단되었습니다. 서울 유나이티드 FC는 팬들을 위한, 팬들에 의한, 서울을 홈으로 하는 꿈을 가지고 있었습니다. 이 경기에서 저는 이천에서 몇 년 동안 일했기 때문에 원정팀의 편에 앉았습니다. 하지만 작은 관중석 반대편에는 북을 들고 노래하고 구호를 외치며 유나이티드를 응원하는 네 명의 남자가 있었습니다. 이 작은 응원단과 팀의 역사는 저에게 깊은 인상을 남겼고, 제가 응원하는 아마추어 팀이 되었습니다.
서울 유나이티드는 K3 리그 첫 시즌에서 우승했지만, 비 프로 리그에서 자주 그렇듯이 재정적으로 어려움을 겪었습니다. 팀은 첫 시즌의 위업을 재현하지 못하고 꾸준히 하위권 팀이 되었습니다. K3 리그가 둘로 분리되면서 당시 K3 리그 베이직으로 강등되었고, 내셔널리그가 K3리그에 합류하면서 유나이티드는 오늘날 우리가 알고 있는 K4 리그에 편입되었습니다. 그리고 여기서 이 이야기가 시작됩니다.
K3리그와 마찬가지로 지금의 서울 노원 유나이티드 FC도 여전히 어려움을 겪고 있습니다. 명확한 이유 없이 2023시즌 마지막 경기를 치르지 않기로 했기 때문에 2024시즌에 9점의 페널티를 받고 들어갔습니다. 또 승격을 기대할 수 없는 해가 될 것이었습니다. 페널티에도 불구하고 그들은 조용히 리그 포인트를 쌓고 있었습니다. 하위 리그를 절반만 주시하고 있었지만, 최종 라운드가 다가오면서 어쩐 일인지 서울 유나이티드가 섞여 있는 것을 알아차리기 시작했습니다. 2024시즌은 유난히 혼잡했습니다. 한두 번의 승리로 순위가 쉽게 상승할 수 있었습니다. 한 팀이 리그 최하위에 가까워지는 것은 쉬웠지만 승격권에서 한두 번의 승리에 불과했습니다. 서울 유나이티드는 바로 그 팀이었습니다. 감점 때문에 그들은 보이지 않는 곳에 숨어 있을 뿐이었습니다.
정확한 순위는 기억나지 않지만 시즌 최종 라운드에 들어가면 서울 유나이티드가 9위를 차지했고, 운이 좋으면 5위를 할 수 있다고 예상했습니다. 시즌을 고려하면 여전히 환상적인 결과입니다. 하지만 아주 작지만 플레이오프 단일 진출권을 획득할 기회가 있었고, 만약 그런 일이 생기면 거기에 있고 싶었습니다. 그래서 노원을 반기별로 방문해 무슨 일이 일어날지 확인했습니다. 그리고 거기에 있어서 정말 기뻤습니다. 서울 유나이티드는 동료 승격 후보들을 상대로 6-0 승리를 거두었습니다. 그리고 다른 경기에서 좋은 성적을 거두며 모두를 제치고 8위로 시즌을 마무리했습니다. 승격 플레이오프를 위해 포천으로 간 팀은 정규 시즌이 끝난 후 주전 선수이자 리그 득점왕인 김동욱이 출전 허가를 받지 못해 2-3으로 가슴 아픈 패배를 겪었습니다.
팀의 작은 서포터즈 클럽의 리더는 결승전에서 패한 직후에 이렇게 썼습니다:
오늘 우리는 패배했지만 실패하지 않았다.
적지 한가운데에서 우리 팬들의 응원으로 경기장을 가득 채웠고,
주전 스쿼드를 쓸 수 없는 상황에서도 상위리그 팀을 압도하며
90분 내내 당당하고 치열하게 모든 힘을 다해 싸웠다.
17년간 수많은 동지와 적이 우리의 곁을 떠나갔지만,
우리는 죽지도 잊혀지지도 않고 또 한 시즌을 살아남았다.
우리는 무수히 패배했고 무수히 좌절했지만
결코 버릴 수 없는 꿈을 위해 다시 내년 봄 마들에 설 것이다.
우리가 포기하지 않기에, 서유는, 노원은 절대 실패하지 않는다.
“2024 시즌을 함께 한 모든 분들 고생 많으셨습니다.”
2025 시즌이 다가오면서 저는 팀과 리그에 대해 더 많이 알게 되었습니다. 하위 리그 축구에 관심이 있었지만, 팀들이 어떤 모습인지 찾기 위해 노력한 적은 없었습니다. 저는 팀들의 홈을 둘러보고, 각 팀에 대한 뉴스를 읽으며 아주 많은 시간을 쓰면서 주말 모험을 계획했습니다.
그리고 비극이 닥쳤습니다. 서울 노원 유나이티드 FC는 인스타그램에 내부 갈등이 있었고, 노원구의회는 마들스타디움에서 뛰기로 한 구단 계약을 취소하거나 최소한 갱신하지 않았다고 게시했습니다. 새 시즌이 다가오면서 출전할 근거가 없어 어쩔 수 없이 탈퇴하고 2026시즌 리그 출전이 금지되었습니다. 경영진은 대신 팀을 해체하기로 하며 언젠가 복귀할 수 있음을 암시했습니다.
응원하는 팀이 없어졌지만, 리그는 여전히 있었고, 팀이 돌아올 희망이 남아있었습니다. 새로운 모험을 결심했습니다. K4 리그의 모든 팀을 한 번 이상 직관하고, 가까운 K3, K5-7, WK 리그 팀들의 경기를 분산해 다녀오는 것이었습니다. 그 경험을 기록하고 싶습니다. 구체적으로는 경기 자체가 아닌, 그곳으로 가는 여정, 그리고 경기장에서 일어난 일들을 기록하고 싶습니다.
