Sejong is back in Seoul, but they are hardly in convincing form. Their last five matches produced three draws and two defeats. One loss came against league challengers Hwacheon, which is understandable, but the other is a disappointing result against an inconsistent Mungyeong. Their only real bright spot is last weekend’s draw against an in-form Gyeongju.
Seoul arrive in much better shape than the league table might suggest. Recent defeats came against runaway leaders Suwon and the same in-form Gyeongju side, but between those matches they managed two valuable victories. Somehow, Seoul are looking stronger than several of the teams around them.
Maybe today will be another step forward.
Dinner Plans
Being a weekday match means the usual after-work scramble for food before heading to the stadium.
Last time I noticed a Japanese ramen restaurant that looked interesting, so tonight I decide to give it a chance. Unfortunately, the nicest thing I can say about it is that they serve food.
The broth is painfully salty, and even if I ignore that, the flavour just isn’t very good. The noodles are clumped together at the bottom of the bowl so badly that my first bite lifts almost the entire serving out at once. Then there is the egg. Instead of the soft, marinated egg you expect with ramen, it is a plain hard-boiled egg, the sort you would normally find in naengmyeon or bibimguksu.
Needless to say, next time I’ll be eating at the kimbap shop next door.
HomePlus Lives… Sort Of
On the way out, I spot Incheon Man buying a muffin at a nearby coffee shop. We exchange a quick greeting, but I don’t want to interrupt his dinner for too long.
My original plan was to head over to HomePlus, but he mentions that he has similar plans, but the branch is not open.
In my previous report on our perpetual extra character, I mentioned that all branches closed during the company’s financial troubles. During the week, however, HomePlus received a lifeline. Just days before the deadline, its main creditor finally agreed to provide emergency funding after months of refusing to help. Suddenly, the same creditor is playing the hero. The funding allowed many stores to reopen and some unpaid wages to be settled.
It has also been reported that HomePlus wants to focus more on its own private-label products, moving toward a business model similar to Trader Joe’s in the United States.
I don’t know enough about Trader Joe’s to judge the comparison, but I actually like the idea. Even before the financial problems, I often felt HomePlus should put more emphasis on its own brands. Plenty of supermarkets have private-label ranges, but none make it the core of the business.
Maybe I’m in the minority, but I actually enjoy having fewer choices. I don’t need ten different brands of the same product.
Familiar Faces
As I approach the stadium, Lone Hero is impossible to miss.
He is already in his usual position up front, proudly wearing his yellow Sejong shirt with his banner hanging nearby. Earlier this week he commented on one of my Instagram posts saying he’ll be at the match, so after scanning my ticket I head over to say hello.
Although my Korean has improved tremendously this year, I still lack the confidence to start conversations in Korean. We exchange a few words before I head towards the Seoul supporters section.
Just before I leave, he surprises me.
“When is the book coming out?” he asks. “I’d want to buy it.”
I don’t think I’ve mentioned it on the blog before, but we’re currently rewriting and compiling these posts into a book. The men’s league adventures from last season will form the first half, while this year’s WK League travels will become the second. Hopefully everything will be translated and ready for printing before the end of the year.
But enough about future projects. Back to today’s adventure.
Becoming a Regular
A healthy crowd is already gathered despite the sweltering heat.
Most people are sitting in their usual places, including the dachshund owner who greets me as I arrive. She doesn’t have her dog with her today, but she does have several friends.
I’ve started noticing just how many people she knows around the club. When a young woman arrives wearing a Team Korea T-shirt with the Olympic rings, she immediately walks over to greet her.
For a brief moment I wonder if she’s an Olympian. Part of me wants to ask, but I’ve always felt uneasy with the idea of interrupting players during their private time.
A few rows behind them sit three young women I’ve seen at several recent matches. They’ve become familiar faces without us ever speaking. Perhaps next week I’ll finally say hello.
Side quest accepted.
The Great Ball Hunt
While chatting with Incheon Man before kick-off, the traditional signed ball launch begins, and chaos immediately follows.
One regular supporter—who also happens to be friends with the dachshund owner—charges around the stand collecting balls at an astonishing pace. Every successful catch is followed by an enthusiastic shout of “Assa!”
He even ends up wrestling for one with another regular who turns every home game into his own personal ball-catching mission. I’m honestly surprised neither of them comes away injured.
When the dust settles, Assa Man has collected three balls. At first it seems excessive, but then he hands them to the friends who came with him today. It turns out he wasn’t collecting souvenirs for himself after all. Fine. I’ll forgive him this time. Wink.
Wait… You Read My Blog?
During the first half, I wander back over to the away supporters, hoping for a better angle to photograph Solo Legend.
As I sit down, a man wearing a team shirt looks at me.
“Are you Otto Silver?”
Excuse me… what?
He tells me he reads the blog.
I spend the next few minutes trying to work out how he even found it, but never really get an answer. We chat about Solo Legend, who he initially assumed is from Sejong. He promises to investigate during half-time and report back later.
When I return after the break, drop into a seat in front of a spectator wearing a yellow shirt. As I get the camera ready, I jokingly say, “So noisy!” The man in a yellow shirt agrees.
After taking a photo, I look around to hear what was found out about Lone Hero, and for a moment I’m completely confused because the man isn’t wearing glasses like the other supporter.
Instead, we end up chatting about football anyway. He notices my FC Seoul shirt, tells me he supports Gangwon FC, and we spend a few minutes talking about their excellent season.
Five different conversations in one evening. Two of them with strangers. What is happening?
A Tale of Two Halves
Seoul actually begin the match well.
They move the ball confidently, link together some promising passing sequences and even create a handful of dangerous attacks. Whether it’s confidence from last week’s performance against Incheon or simply the belief that Sejong’s recent goal drought will continue, Seoul look comfortable during the opening stages.
Gradually, though, the momentum shifts. As half-time approaches, Sejong grow stronger.
Right at the end of the first half, Sejong win a corner. The delivery is perfect, and a Sejong player meets it with a header that flies into the top corner beyond the goalkeeper’s reach.
Statistically, corners are not the most efficient route to goal. Against Seoul, however, they are starting to feel like the only reasonable route.
The second half belongs almost entirely to Sejong. The visitors dominate possession, string together the better passing moves and spend most of the half on the Seoul side.
Sejong dominate possession, string together the better passing moves and spend most of the half camped inside Seoul’s defensive third.
Their second goal arrives shortly before the 75th minute. Once again, it begins with a corner. This time the initial delivery doesn’t go straight in, but Seoul fail to clear, and the loose ball is bundled home in the chaos.
If that isn’t painful enough, Sejong add a third well into stoppage time. Let’s just say the defending left plenty to wonder about.
Final Thoughts
It’s a disappointing evening for Seoul.
I’ll always have a soft spot for Gangjin, but perhaps Seoul can bounce back next week by taking points off them instead.
Before the match, the Seoul coach spoke openly about the team’s recent struggles. She pointed to injuries and the lack of meaningful training during the week because of the extreme weather. To her credit, she also admitted every team was dealing with similar conditions and suggested the increasingly congested fixture list may be the main culprit.
Whatever the cause, it does not look like Seoul's struggles will end any time soon, but they’ll need to regroup quickly if they want to get away from the wrong end of the table.
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.
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
The rescheduled Round 8 match snuck up on me because I forgot to write the new date in my diary. It was postponed due to Suwon's involvement in the AFC Women's Champions League, and that is probably the reason Seoul was able to get their own match rescheduled in the previous round.
Since losing in the AFC semi-finals, Suwon have been beating up on WK League teams. I don't expect Seoul to have much of a chance tonight.
Despite the unexpected schedule change, Gogga joins me. I'm always happy when she comes along because we both get to relax outside the house. Gogga brings the beer; I arrange the food. United Man also made it tonight, and he brought snacks to thank us for sharing ours at the previous match. We are clearly well supplied and don't need to make a HomePlus run this evening.
This season, HomePlus has become a character in its own right in my match reports. Unfortunately, its fortunes have not improved. News reports say that the Seoul Bankruptcy Court has officially terminated HomePlus' corporate rehabilitation process. The company now has two weeks to appeal the decision and somehow come up with KRW 200 billion (about USD 130 million) in emergency operating funds. Around 100,000 workers are anxiously waiting to hear what happens next. It is not something you wish on anyone, especially with the difficult economic situation so many people around the world are facing.
Back to the stadium, another Seoul City Hall youth team is in the stands tonight. They are definitely older than the previous group, and I assume they are high school students.
That makes me wonder whether the club also has an elementary school team. The internet comes to the rescue, and indeed, there is an elementary school team. All three teams are based in northeast Seoul. Seoul Wuidong Elementary School is in Gangbuk-gu, right next to Nowon-gu. Insub Middle School and Dongsan Information Industry High School are located in Nowon-gu.
Seoul City Hall is the only club with such a complete development pathway. That is largely thanks to the city's size and population density. Most other WK League clubs have to rely on short-term partnerships with different schools. However, there is a push to make the WK League fully professional, and professionalism usually comes with stricter youth development requirements.
I also learned that Dongsan Information Industry High School is one of the traditional powerhouses of girls' football in Korea. Even Suwon captain and Korean legend Jo So-Yeon is a former student.
Like their younger counterparts, tonight's youth team seems to come with activation buttons. The moment someone starts a chant or cheer, they immediately join in without any hesitation. And even more than their younger counterparts, they watch the match closely. Unlike most spectators who blame the ref for everything, you can often hear them say things like "I guess the ref had a better view."
On the field, Ji So-Yeon is expected to retire at the end of the season, but judging by the way she has been playing over the last few weeks, she may end up changing her mind. She dominates the first half and is directly responsible for Suwon's opening goal.
She collects the ball near the halfway line, shrugs off three Seoul players, and drives towards goal. Looking up, she spots a teammate making a run into the penalty area and threads a perfectly weighted pass through the defence. The striker reaches it first and shoots. The goalkeeper gets a hand to the ball, but not enough to keep it out. Despite the light deflection the rolls over the line by the slimmest of margins.
Seoul seem overly defensive tonight, lining up with a back four that quickly turns into a back five whenever Suwon attack.
During the half-time break, I spot the former national team coach and go over to say hello. He is always friendly and happy to chat, but I don't want to take up too much of his time. Other people want to speak to him as well, and he probably wants to enjoy the football, so I leave after a bit of small talk.
As I return to my seat, I notice one of the Suwon coaches walking towards the dressing room. Koreans are not exactly famous for luxurious beards. Most men seem to have about fifteen facial hairs in total, and many probably don't know which side of a razor is the sharp one. I exaggerate, of course, but a thick beard like that coach's is genuinely rare here. I have something that vaguely resembles a beard, but it is nowhere near thick enough to qualify as a good one. I have to admit I feel a little envious.
I also notice some interesting weather conditions. It is humid this evening, but thankfully not too hot. The weather creates a light mist that hangs over the pitch at the start of the second half. It is with that cloud still floating over the field that Suwon score their second goal.
A corner is curled into the penalty area, and the goalkeeper catches it cleanly. Unfortunately, she catches it while moving backwards and carries the ball over the goal line. She quickly pushes it back out, but it is too late. The assistant referee has a clear view and immediately signals that the whole ball crossed the line.
What follows are some animated protests about pushing, although nobody appears to have touched the goalkeeper, leaving everyone around us thoroughly confused. The complaints become so heated that the Seoul bench receives its second yellow card of the evening. After watching the replay on my phone, I can only assume they are arguing that one of their defenders was pushed and therefore unable to challenge for the header. Honestly, I don't think she would have reached the ball either way.
The rest of the second half follows much the same pattern. Suwon string together accurate passes with confidence, while Seoul work incredibly hard but achieve very little. Whenever Suwon have possession, they almost always find runners with well-weighted, accurate passes. Seoul, on the other hand, often seem to pass simply for the sake of passing. More often than not, the ball is played to teammates already surrounded by Suwon defenders or into empty space where a Suwon player arrives first.
Sometime during the second half, Suwon add a third goal, but for me the bigger story is that Seoul are finally able to use a full set of substitutes again. It has been quite a while since they have had enough healthy players to make tactical changes late in a match. The fresh legs make little difference, though, and the game finishes with Seoul unable to score.
As we leave the stadium, we bump into an old acquaintance. He tells me, "I come to one or two matches every season. Last year Seoul were decent, but this year they're dog s*** again."
It may be a little harsh, but it is not far from the truth. Thankfully, my main reason for supporting this team has always been their fighting spirit rather than their winning record.
Part 2
Suwon had a midweek match against fellow league challengers Hwacheon. That was good news for Seoul because hopefully it took a bit out of the legs of the Suwon players. Even so, I still do not have high expectations for tonight.
Before the match, I head into the main stadium to find something to eat. That is where our extra character, HomePlus, is located. The deadline for their appeal is early next week, and it seems they have accepted the inevitable. Everything in the store is discounted by as much as 50%. Their already inexpensive house brand is now even cheaper, and news reports say people are arriving with shopping baskets and stripping entire shelves of single products like avocado oil.
It is going to be a stressful time for the employees, many of whom may soon be out of work. There is nothing I can do to change their fortunes, and all I can do is carry on with my own life.
At the stadium, a few fans have already arrived by the time I get there. Among them are several Suwon supporters. They are not the singing supporters, but the quieter type, much like myself. One woman is wearing Suwon's AFC Women's Champions League shirt. She looks as though she might be Brazilian, and I cannot help but wonder whether the shirt was a gift from Suwon's Brazilian player. It's wild speculation, though, because I'm afraid of offending her by asking, "Hey! You look Brazilian. Are you friends with Milena (Barreto de Oliveira)?"
Another supporter is wearing an away shirt covered in player signatures. I really envy Suwon fans. They can actually buy merchandise, and their players seem more than happy to interact with supporters. It's something I desperately wish Seoul had. Having said that, I am sure Seoul's players would also happily sign an autograph book, but a signed shirt is something special.
Soon enough, it's time for the players to line up for the usual pre-match handshakes, and something immediately catches my eye. Kim Min-Ji is wearing mostly red. It is essentially the normal team kit with the colours reversed, and there is no goalkeeper in yellow in the line-up.
Wait... Kim Min-Ji? The team's star midfielder is playing in goal? Is she even trained for this? This is going to be an interesting match.
Suwon is not without their visual interest either. In fact, they are visually one of the most interesting teams in the WK League. Last season, their Milena wore the normal short, fairly tight shorts that are common in the European and American leagues. It even caused a small controversy when one YouTuber blurred her shorts whenever she appeared in his videos.
There was nothing wrong with her shorts, other than that it was different from what almost every other player wore. In East Asia, at least, the fashion is to basically wear the same kit as the men. However, this season Suwon seems to be bucking this trend. While Milena's shorts are slightly longer and looser, other players have gone in the opposite direction, with shorts coming in various lengths and tightnesses.
Suwon's players are distinctive in other ways too. Both wingers are noticeably slender compared to most players in the league, yet neither backs away from a physical challenge. The left winger is also quite tall, and with her pace she becomes a dangerous target whenever Ji So-Yeon threads a pass into the penalty area.
Forward, Haruhi, dyes her hair a dark brown, and together with her build she constantly tricks my brain into thinking she is European. Even the way she runs feels different from what I have become used to seeing in East Asian football.
Ji So-Yeon is easy to recognise as well thanks to her broad headband. Little visual quirks like these make players easy to follow without even looking at their shirt numbers. That is not always the case, especially when watching matches on television.
For the opening twenty minutes, Suwon do not look nearly as dominant as they did last week. Seoul even give the impression that they might be able to fight for a point.
Then disaster strikes.
Seoul's defender, Bin Hyun-Ji, goes in for a tackle and catches the Suwon player on the knee. The injured player immediately cries out in pain. The referee first produces a yellow card, but while the medical staff are treating the player, the officials confer and upgrade it to a straight red.
Naturally, this leads to an animated confrontation between the Seoul coach and the referee. She is shouting loudly enough that I expect a booking at any moment, yet somehow she escapes without even a yellow card.
Meanwhile, I am sitting in the stands half-heartedly shouting, "My phone has VAR!" at the officials. I doubt they even hear me. The decision stands, and we all know Seoul's uphill battle has just become a mountain.
Despite being down to ten players, Seoul defend surprisingly well. About fifteen minutes later, however, Suwon score with a fairly soft finish that slips past the stand-in goalkeeper.
It is easy to say she should have done better, but how much can you expect from someone who is not even a recognised goalkeeper?
At some point during the first half, a mysterious voice begins shouting from the woods beside the stadium. All I can make out is a figure wearing what looks like a white plastic raincoat, half hidden among the trees. He looks like he has wandered straight out of a horror film.
His shouting is regularly interrupted by two men sitting in the front row watching baseball on a phone with the volume turned all the way up. Why come to a football match if you would rather watch baseball? Thankfully, they disappear during the half-time break.
The first half ends with Seoul trailing only 1-0.
The stands are fairly quiet during the break. The former national team coach is here again, so I walk over to say hello. We chat briefly about the red card and how it may have spoiled the match, but I also say I do not think it will affect the outcome of the match. He agrees and says this may be the weakest Seoul team he has ever seen. In his opinion, their biggest problem is the lack of dangerous strikers.
He is the expert, not me, so from now on I suppose my opinion is that Seoul need to strengthen their attack.
As the players return for the second half, the player who was sent off walks into the stands wearing her training kit and sits with who I assume is her family. Another player, probably injured, joins her.
I once saw two injured Incheon players sitting in the stands during a match. A group of young girls asked for autographs, and both players happily signed for them. I suspect most footballers are like that.
Which gives me an idea. I will try to make friends with the dog people, because they know the players well. Maybe they can help me get my banner signed by the team. For this, I will need much more than social baby steps.
During the second half, Suwon's control steadily grows, although Seoul continue to defend far better than I expected. They even manage a few promising attacks of their own.
The mysterious voice is still echoing from the woods, constantly reminding the Seoul players to concentrate. I still cannot understand why the man is standing out there when there are plenty of empty seats inside the stadium. At least his shouting is relevant to the football, unlike the unwanted live baseball commentary from earlier.
Seoul hold out until the 85th minute before the pressure finally tells. They concede two quick goals in succession, and what had looked like a respectable defeat quickly becomes another 3-0 loss.
It is not a goalkeeping performance anyone will remember, and the worrying news is that Seoul's first-choice goalkeeper is expected to miss another three weeks. For Kim Min-Ji's sake, I hope the second-choice keeper is fit by the next match. It is unfair to expect a midfielder to regularly perform one of the most specialised jobs on the pitch.
The next match is away to Incheon on Saturday. I am curious to see who turns up for that one, although I am fairly certain at least one of the dog owners will be there. "Greet them and speak a few words" is now on my TODO list.
Round 8 Results
Seoul City Hall Amazones 0-3 Suwon FC Women
Round 9 Results
Gangjin Swans 1-2 Mungyeong Sangmu
Hwacheon KSPO 1-2 Suwon FC Women
Round 15 Results
Seoul City Hall Amazones 0-3 Suwon FC Women
Sejong Sportstoto 0-1 Mungyeong Sangmu
Hwacheon KSPO 5-1 Gangjin Swans
Gyeongju KHNP 2-1 Incheon Hyunsai Steel Red Angels
I step off the train at Seoul World Cup Stadium Station, looking forward to another midweek match. I'd already ate dinner near work, so there is no need to find food. For once, I can head straight to the stadium.
As I ride the escalator, I notice it's quieter than usual. But it happens, and I don't see a reason to worry. The area around the stadium is also unusually quiet. It seems so quiet, in fact, that when I reach the ground, I see only one team warming up and not a single spectator in the stands.
I stop, take a deep breath, and check the match schedule again. For the second time in six months, I have travelled more than an hour to attend a match... one day early.
Mungyeong
Seoul's run of four consecutive home matches begins on a warm Wednesday evening against Mungyeong Sangmu.
The visitors arrive in poor form, having lost four of their previous five league matches. Their position in the table is slipping, not helped by both Hwacheon and Suwon seemingly incapable of dropping points.
Seoul, meanwhile, continue their frustrating pattern of alternating wins and losses. The regular wins see them in the mid-table fight, but injuries remain the team's biggest obstacle.
Kim Min-ji, one of Seoul's midfield engines, suffered a knee injury early last season. She spent almost a year playing with pins in her knee before finally having them removed during the break before the Gangjin match. She is still recovering and unavailable for selection. Several other players were also injured, although it is difficult to know exactly who. The club rarely shares injury updates through social media or the press, leaving supporters to piece things together from each week's team sheet.
The lack of available players is reflected in the starting line-up. Seoul is fielding six defenders, one midfielder and three forwards. The squad has become remarkably adaptable, with players regularly filling unfamiliar roles, but it is hard to imagine the manager being happy to play players outside their main positions all the time.
Before kick-off, I hang my small banner and settle into my seat with a bag of doughnuts and beer-flavoured soda from Homeplus.
HomePlus. They have not officially declared bankruptcy yet, but each visit makes it feel as though it is only a matter of time. The shelves are emptier every week. Today, I pass two entire aisles containing stocked with a single drink, one row deep, with the bottles spaced several centimetres apart. At this rate, I feel that the company will not survive until the end of the football season.
Back in the stadium, supporters are starting to drift in, and it's time to start working on my challenge to be more social. I scan the new arrivals, looking for an opportunity to greet or speak to someone.
I spot one of the regular dog owners who attends almost every home match. One of the dogs is wearing what appears to be a shirt made from an actual Seoul uniform. I'd previously seen the owner chat with one of the players, so I suspect they are related.
Just before kick-off, as always, the players walk over to throw signed balls into the crowd. This time I deliberately stand front and centre. One player looks uncertain about where to throw hers, so I simply call out, "Please give me," in Korean. She smiles, tosses the ball my way, and I thank her as I catch it.
I finally have my official team souvenir and can stop worrying about catching a ball at future matches.
Better still, I conveniently catch the ball right in front of the shirt-wearing dog and its owner. This gives me a perfect opportunity to ask if I can take a photograph. Both owner and dog happily oblige, and after thanking them, I can check off my mission as completed: successful human interaction achieved.
The match itself is an entertaining back-and-forth.
Seoul opens the scoring when Gang Yu-mi bundles the ball into the net during the chaos that often accompanies corner kicks. Not long afterwards, Han Che-rin dispossessed a defender and calmly slots the ball past the advancing goalkeeper.
After the first goal, I'd noticed a player attempt to gather teammates for an arranged celebration. Gang Yu-mi had seemingly forgotten about this after her goal, but after the second goal, the celebration is successful. Several players line up facing the supporters and raise their hands to their eyes like they are holding binoculars.
I had my camera ready for possibly the best image of the match. But when I check to see if it came out well, my camera informs me that I had once again forgotten to put the SD card back in.
How? Again!
Mungyeong pulls a goal back in the second half when Seoul's goalkeeper palms a shot onto the head of an onrushing attacker. But Seoul holds on for a much-needed victory.
When the final whistle blows, the Seoul players collapse onto the pitch. If you had arrived only then, you would have assumed they had lost the match. Instead, they had simply given everything they had. Even after securing all three points, they look utterly exhausted.
Gyeongju
Gyeongju arrived in considerably better form than they showed at the start of the season. Four wins from their previous five matches propelled them straight into the mid-table fight, their only setback a heavy 6–0 defeat against an unstoppable Suwon side. Seoul is still above them, but only just.
Today I'm not attending alone. Gogga agreed to come with me after I promised we would visit the nearby market for dinner, and beer at the match.
To be fair, Gogga isn't much of a football supporter. She enjoys the atmosphere well enough, but for her, the real appeal is sitting outside, relaxing with a beer. Football simply provides the backdrop. Different people enjoy the game in different ways.
Despite visiting Seoul World Cup Stadium countless times for football and even road races, I had somehow never explored this nearby market. Officially, it is a fish market, and the rows of seafood vendors at the entrance leave little doubt about that. Inside, however, it is much more than its name suggests.
Beyond the fresh fish stalls are vendors selling fermented seafood and marinated crabs, followed by dried fish and snacks, then fruit and vegetables, before ending with a collection of small restaurants. We settle on hand-cut noodles made with mugwort.
The mugwort gives the noodles an earthy flavour that reminds me of green rice cakes. It isn't a combination I would have imagined beforehand, but it works surprisingly well. After dinner, we walk over to the stadium, where we meet Mr. United.
I first met him last season during a match between Seoul and Changnyeong. Back then, I was following Changnyeong's season, and his favourite player happened to play for them. During the winter, she transferred to Seoul, so now we find ourselves supporting the same team again.
While chatting, we spot two women who wandered onto the edge of the pitch and are now taking selfies beside the official match ball. Once they finish photographing each other, they walk over to the Seoul manager and ask if she would take a picture for them.
Bemused, the manager politely declined, but one of the players eventually agree to help. While the photo is being taken, however, a member of staff walks over to explain that they weren't actually allowed to be there.
Earlier, I noticed the pair taking photographs near the ambulance entrance beside the stadium gate. My guess is that they had accidentally entered through the wrong access point, found themselves beside the pitch, spotted the match ball and assumed it was all part of the public area. Their surprised reaction when they are asked to leave suggests they genuinely hadn't realised they were somewhere they shouldn't be.
I find the whole situation rather amusing. Gogga jokingly suggests that Mr. United and I seize the opportunity and get our own photographs with the ball while nobody is looking, but both of us are far too shy for that—and, truthfully, neither of us is particularly interested in taking selfies anyway.
Just before kick-off, I went to hang my banner. The owner of the dog wearing the homemade Seoul shirt recognises me and says hello. I'm famous!
The signed balls were thrown into the crowd as usual before the match. Gogga and I had placed our beers on the seat between us, and as the players walk over with balls, I blurt out, louder than intended: "Oh no! Protect the beer!"
Everyone within earshot burst into laughter. I'm famous and entertaining!
A moment later, one of the balls flies directly towards us. I manage to catch it, but I already have one from the previous match. Looking around us, Gogga spots a young woman who looks disappointed to have missed out. I hold up the ball, gesturing, "Would you like it?", then hand the ball to her. The smile on her face means that I am now famous, entertaining, and a hero!
The match itself, unfortunately, is far less enjoyable from a Seoul perspective.
Gyeongju opens the scoring. Seoul's goalkeeper positions herself for what should be the attempt, only for the ball to be passed to an unmarked attacker for a simple finish. Whether the goalkeeper had come too far towards the initial attacker or the defenders had failed to track the runner is difficult to judge. In truth, both probably shared some responsibility. The visitors doubled their lead soon afterwards from a well-worked corner routine.
Seoul responded with two substitutions, surprisingly, only thirty minutes into the match. Given how little depth the squad has right now, making tactical changes so soon feels like an unneeded gamble. One of the players taken off the field happened to be Mr. United's favourite, leaving him clearly disappointed. At least there was still the possibility of seeing her after the match and giving her the small gift he had brought.
Early in the second half, Han Che-rin converts a penalty to pull Seoul back into the game, and for a few minutes, both the players and supporters sense a possible comeback. The optimism lasts barely ten minutes. Gyeongju's third goal seems to drain all belief from the home side and their supporters.
The atmosphere on the away side of the stand can't be more different. Each Gyeongju goal is greeted with loud celebrations, while a small group of children who had made the journey enthusiastically launch back into short chants every time the ball finds the net.
As the match continues, Seoul's injury problems become impossible to ignore. As is common in football, players often go down from contact during challenges. Each time the Seoul side falls silent, hoping the player is fine. The regular supporters understand just how bare the squad has become.
Meanwhile, Gyeongju comfortably rotate fresh legs onto the pitch, often making two substitutions at once. The contrast is difficult to watch.
When the final whistle sounds, the Seoul players do not collapse to the grass as they had a few days earlier. Instead, they simply stand, dejected.
After gathering briefly in a huddle, they came to thank the supporters.
It is a small gesture, but one I personally always appreciate. After such a disappointing evening, it would have been easy to disappear straight down the tunnel again.
Injuries and Fixture Congestion
As disappointing as the defeat to Gyeongju was, it also highlighted a problem that had been building for weeks.
Between the away trip to Gangjin on 13 June and the home match against Suwon on 10 July, Seoul were scheduled to play seven matches. One of those fixtures is a Women's Korea Cup tie, leaving just two days between the cup match and a league fixture.
For a squad already stretched by injuries, it is difficult to imagine a more demanding schedule.
Seoul's squad contains only 21 registered players. In practice, that means every available player has to be included in the match-day squad each week simply to fill the substitute bench. Even players who are carrying injuries and unable to play are registered as substitutes.
That lack of depth creates a vicious cycle. With so few healthy players available, meaningful rotation becomes impossible. The same players are asked to start week after week, often remaining on the pitch long after fatigue has set in because there are no fresh replacements. And the greater the workload, the greater the risk of further injuries, leaving even fewer options for the following match.
After the victory over Mungyeong, several Seoul players collapsed onto the pitch at the final whistle despite having won the match. Three days later, against Gyeongju, the fatigue was visible throughout the evening. Players who would normally close opponents down quickly often looked a step behind, taking an extra stride or two to reach full speed.
With another league match less than a week away—and a Women's Korea Cup match scheduled just two days beforehand—the situation seemed unsustainable.
Following the Mungyeong match, the Seoul manager revealed in her post-match interview that she had approached the Korea Women's Football Federation about rearranging some of the fixtures. The day before Seoul's Korea Cup match against Korea University, it was announced that their next league fixture had been postponed.
As much as I would like to have another match to attend this week, I would much rather watch a healthy team take the field whenever possible.
Round 12 Results
Sejong Sportstoto 0-0 Incheon Hyunsai Steel Red Angels
Seoul City Hall Amazones 2-1 Mungyeong Sangmu
Gangjin Swans 1-6 Suwon FC Women
Gyeongju KHNP 0-1 Hwacheon KSPO
Team
Played
League Points
1. Suwon
10
24
2. Hwacheon
10
22
3. Incheon
11
17
4. Mungyeong
11
16
5. Sejong
12
16
6. Seoul
11
15
7. Gyeongju
11
11
8. Gangjin
11
7
Round 13 Results
Hwacheon KSPO 2-0 Sejong Sportstoto
Seoul City Hall Amazones 1-3 Gyeongju KHNP
Incheon Hyunsai Steel Red Angels 3-2 Gangjin Swans
Mungyeong Sangmu 0-2 Suwon FC Women
It's early on a Saturday morning, and I'm already on the road.
My destination today is Gangjin, where Seoul City Hall Amazones take on Gangjin Swans. Getting there is not exactly simple. First, I need a bus to Gwangju, then another bus to Gangjin. If everything goes according to plan, the trip will take about seven hours, lunch break included.
Like most long-distance bus journeys, there is a stop at a highway service area along the way. This one is near Gongju. It looks much like every other service area on a weekend. Buses and cars flow steadily through the parking lot while travellers hurry between their vehicles and the main building.
Outside, food vendors line the entrance for people who want something quick before getting back on the road. Inside, there are restaurants and plenty of tables for anyone looking for a proper meal.
Most service areas seem to have hiking gear available for purchase. Usually, there is at least one proper brand-name store, and a nearby vendor selling less official-looking gear. At this road stop, I see a hat with a logo that looks suspiciously similar to The North Face. The name, however, reads "The Gong Man Face".
I'd love to stand around taking photographs of all these creative knock-offs, but shop owners are rarely enthusiastic about that idea.
Wanting to make the most of the stop, I buy a snack. The best way I can describe it is a flat, cone-shaped pastry filled with sweet potato. It's surprisingly good, and I make a mental note to look for one again on the journey home.
I planned to have lunch in Gwangju, but the snack left me with little appetite. It's a shame because several of the restaurants around the terminal look quite tempting. Instead, I buy one of nature's travel foods—a banana—and put it in my bag for later.
The final leg of the trip from Gwangju to Gangjin takes around ninety minutes. There is plenty of farmland along the route, but the area feels less rural than I expected. In fact, it takes almost thirty minutes just to leave Gwangju itself.
Having spent most of my life in Korea in smaller cities in Gyeonggi-do, I tend to think of places in simple terms. You either drive across town in twenty minutes, or you spend hours trying to cross Seoul. I often forget how large cities like Gwangju really are.
When I finally arrive in Gangjin, however, there is no mistaking that I am in a much smaller town.
The terminal is almost silent. There are no buses waiting to depart. Four people sit scattered around the waiting area, each several metres from the next, none of them saying a word.
Outside, the streets are equally quiet. For the most part, I can simply cross the road whenever I want without waiting for traffic.
Because of the way Korea classifies administrative areas, Gangjin is officially a county. To me, though, it feels like a small town. The wider county has lost more than half of its population over the last thirty years and now has only a little over 30,000 residents. Farming remains an important part of the local economy, alongside a small industrial complex. Walking through the quiet streets, it is easy to understand why so many rural areas in Korea worry about population decline.
I still have plenty of time before kick-off, so I stop at my motel to drop off my luggage. From there, I decided to walk to the stadium rather than take a bus. Walking gives me the freedom to stop whenever something catches my eye, and small towns are always more interesting when explored at walking pace.
The most interesting sights in the area are actually outside the town itself, but unfortunately, I have no time to go see the sights. On the way to the stadium, I come across a traditional-style building advertising a Buddhist temple food experience. Unfortunately, it appears to be closed, and I can't find any information about opening times or prices.
Right next door is what seems to be Gangjin's main market. At least, I assume it is. The market occupies a covered area roughly the size of two football pitches. Shops line the edges while the centre is left mostly open. A handful of businesses are operating, but there is very little activity. With little of interest, I decide not to linger and continue on my way.
A little further along, I pass what appears to be Gangjin's only large supermarket, a Nonghyup Hanaro Mart. I can't say for certain that it is the only one in town, but it certainly feels that way.
Nonghyup, Korea's agricultural cooperative, has a strong presence here. Their logo appears repeatedly as I walk through town, and a quick look at the map reveals Nonghyup banks and ATMs scattered all over the area. It even appears that one of their regional offices is located in Gangjin.
Eventually, my wandering brings me to the sports complex, which turns out to be a collection of football grounds.
The main stadium features a running track surrounding a grass pitch, with seating all the way around. Judging by the number of people using the track, it seems to serve local residents more than sporting events.
Next to it is a field called Hummel Ground. The pitch looks immaculate. The grass has been carefully cut with visible patterns across the surface, and it appears ready for a match. Oddly enough, there are no field markings.
The pitch hosting today's match is located at the far end of the complex. Like the others, it is well-maintained. Even the unused areas of grass look immaculate. The layout is a little unusual.
The team dugouts are positioned on the far side of the field, and each dressing room sits directly behind its respective bench. When I say directly behind, I mean a player could take two steps and touch the dressing room door.
The windows appear to be covered with one-way reflective glass. Looking at them from the stands, I can't help wondering whether players ever mistake their own reflections for someone standing nearby.
The stand itself is a small two-storey structure.
The lower level features raised wooden platforms where spectators can sit picnic-style while watching the match. There is also enough room to stand or set up a folding chair. The biggest advantage here is proximity to the pitch. From here, you are almost as close to the action as the coaching staff on the opposite touchline. If this were my local ground, I suspect I would spend most of my time down there.
The upper level is more of a traditional seating area, although "seating" might be generous. It is essentially made up of two large plastic "wood" steps.
WK League culture usually dictates that supporters gather behind their own team's bench, or opposite it when that is not possible. The Gangjin supporters seem unconcerned with such conventions. They spread themselves across both sides of the stand without much thought.
Personally, I don't mind. I grew up watching sports where opposing supporters regularly sit together without issue. What I do worry about is being the only Seoul supporter in attendance.
The view from the upper level is mostly excellent. The elevation gives a good perspective of the match. There is one problem, though.
Because the stand is positioned so close to the field, the edge of the structure blocks the near touchline from view. Whenever play happens along the near touch line, we lose sight of the ball and players entirely. Perhaps Gangjin could solve the issue by making the pitch slightly narrower. Not every football field has to be exactly the same width, after all.
As kick-off approaches, more spectators begin to arrive. One thing immediately catches my eye. Many of them are wearing shirts from Gwangju FC.
That strikes me as slightly odd. You don't see supporters turning up to Seoul Amazones matches wearing FC Seoul shirts. Then again, Gwangju are by far the biggest club in the region, and Gangjin is only about an hour away, so perhaps it makes perfect sense.
As mentioned earlier, I'm here for the 2026 WK League Round 11 match in which Gangjin Swans host Seoul Amazones.
Neither side comes into the match in particularly good form. Since losing to Seoul earlier in the season, Gangjin managed one victory against Suwon but lost their next four matches. Seoul's results have been slightly better, alternating between wins and losses.
Goals have been hard to come by for both teams. They sit at the bottom of the scoring charts, with Gangjin only marginally ahead of Seoul. With those statistics in mind, I can only hope today's match doesn't end in a frustrating 0-0 draw.
A few weeks ago, I designed a small banner and had it printed. I didn't bring it to the previous match, but today I am determined to use it. Calling it a banner might even be generous. It is tiny. Still, it is the perfect size for one person to hold, and at Seoul's compact home ground, it should be surprisingly easy to spot when tied to the railing.
When the teams walk onto the pitch, I gather every gram of courage I possess and hold it up.
This is not really the kind of supporter I am. I have never been the chanting, banner-waving type. I prefer to sit quietly and only start making noises when something interesting happens on the field. But this season is about following Seoul Amazones as closely as possible, and this is part of the experience.
Just before kick-off, a small group arrives and takes up position behind me. It soon becomes clear that they are also supporting Seoul. Our numbers immediately increase from one to roughly seven.
I would like to introduce myself, but I remain strangely intimidated by the idea of speaking Korean with strangers. My fear is that someone will hear me say a simple sentence and respond with an entire dictionary's worth of Korean that I don't understand.
As a side note, I have been putting a lot of effort into improving my Korean recently. For the past three months, I have studied for one or two hours every day. My Duolingo score has climbed from just under 20 to 35. According to Duolingo I know enough to order food. I am hoping to reach 60 by the middle of August, which, supposedly, should be enough to have simple conversations.
I know Duolingo has plenty of critics, but I've tried books, classes, and videos. Everything failed because I did not put in the effort or never used what I learned. This time I am definitely putting in the effort, and I try to practise with my wife whenever possible.
She assures me that my Korean has improved dramatically. Of course, she may simply be saying that because she enjoys receiving fresh coffee every morning.
The other Seoul supporters never acknowledge my presence, but I can hardly blame them when I am doing exactly the same thing. I think I need to make it a personal goal to greet at least two people at the next home match.
Fortunately, the football gives everyone a distraction from each other.
The match is competitive from start to finish. Seoul look like the stronger side for most of the afternoon, but Gangjin create enough chances to keep things interesting.
Much of the first half takes place in Gangjin's half of the field. Seoul apply constant pressure while Gangjin occasionally produce flashes of quality that suddenly move the ball to the opposite end. The problem is consistency. Those moments never last quite long enough to produce a goal.
Seoul finally break through from a free kick. The ball somehow travels through a crowd of players before reaching Im Seon-Ju, who gets the decisive touch and puts Seoul ahead.
Gangjin respond not long after when a quick turn just outside the penalty area creates enough space for a powerful shot across the goal. The effort beats the goalkeeper but crashes against the post and rebounds away.
Just before half-time, Seoul strikes again. Gang Tae-Gyeong receives the ball just outside the box with far too much space. A defender rushes out to close her down, but she calmly guides the ball into the top corner beyond the goalkeeper's reach. It is a wonderful finish.
During the match, some of the home supporters try to start chants for Gangjin. Unfortunately, they commit one of my personal football pet peeves. Instead of using the simple one-syllable word "Swans", they stretch it into "Soo-won-seu".
Why do teams insist on choosing English names that supporters seem unable to pronounce properly? Would it really be so terrible to call the team Gangjin Baekjo? Is a Korean name for a team really such a crime?
Early in the second half, Gangjin finally find a way back into the match through Gwak Ro-Yeong. For a while, it feels like the momentum might be shifting. Seoul, however, hold firm and sees out the victory.
Yet again, I finish watching a match involving Gangjin with a positive impression. Last season, when the club was based in Changnyeong, there were times when they seemed to lose hope once things started going wrong. This version of the team feels different. They continue fighting until the final whistle, and that resilience makes them easy to respect.
After the match, I head back to my hotel. Earlier in the day scouted the restaurants in the area. The only one that really caught my attention specialises in dishes meant for groups rather than individuals. I quickly abandoned that plan to eat at a restaurant and settled for spicy fried chicken instead. It was an excellent decision.
Back in my room, I demolish the chicken while watching the championship match of 골 때리는 그녀들. For those unfamiliar with it, the show brings together entertainers and celebrities, places them into themed teams and has them compete in a modified futsal competition. It is surprisingly entertaining and makes for a perfect end to the day.
The following morning, I wake up early with a very specific goal. Gamjatang for breakfast.
There is a restaurant practically next door to my hotel, but when I arrive, it is closed. Closed! What kind of gamjatang restaurant closes in the morning?
These places are called "hangover soup" restaurants for a reason. People spend Saturday night drinking. Sunday morning is exactly when people need them. More important than their hangovers, I need breakfast.
With my plans in ruins, I collect my luggage and start walking towards the bus terminal in search of an alternative. Nothing is open. Absolutely nothing.
In the end, I am forced to visit a convenience store. My breakfast consists of pre-made eggy rice eaten at a table outside the convenience store.
The table to my left holds a nearly full can of beer and an open bag of chips that look barely touched. The table to my right has a cup of coffee that appears to have received exactly one sip before being abandoned. It is a strangely memorable breakfast setting.
While I eat, an elderly woman pushing a small trolley decides to take a break nearby. She studies me for a moment, rummages through her trolley and offers me a half-full bottle of water.
It is a very kind gesture. I thank her and politely decline, explaining that I already have an unopened bottle in my bag.
After that, not much happens. It is still early. There are no buses at the terminal, and only a handful of people are waiting. I join them and watch the television, which is showing the Club World Cup. I could not tell you, nor do I care, who is playing. The most exciting event during the wait is two women arriving just in time to watch their bus pull away without them.
The journey home is almost a perfect copy of the trip to Gangjin.
With this trip complete, I have now visited four of the seven possible away grounds on Seoul's schedule.
Hopefully, I can still make it to Sejong later in the season. And with a little luck, a postponed fixture might create an opportunity to visit either Hwacheon or Gyeongju as well.
2026.06.13 -Gangjin Swans WFC1:2Seoul City Hall Amazones WFC
Round 11 Results
Suwon FC Women 6-0 Sejong Sportstoto
Gangjin Swans 1-2 Seoul City Hall Amazones
Mungyeong Sangmu 0-3 Gyeongju KHNP
Incheon Hyunsai Steel Red Angels - Hwacheon KSPO (Postponed until 2026.08.11)
