10. Amateur Town

I’ve been threatening a trip to Uiwang’s K7 League for three years already, but each time I find a date I like, something more important comes up. It’s a shame, because Bugok Sports Park (부곡체육공원) is only a short bicycle ride away, and arguably the easiest field for me to reach, in any league. So here I am, out on the road at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, with just enough time to make the 08:10 kick-off of the first match. The road is so quiet that I can, for most of the ride, hear the buzz of my tires on the road.

Wangsong Lake is along the way. It's known for its rail bike, zip line and family park. The bikes are not running yet, but a few people are out for their morning walks, and the first oksusu vendor is setting up for what looks to be a great day to be outside. I also spot a crane standing on the bank of the lily ponds that feed off the lake. I try to photograph the crane, but it doesn't like me there and eyeballs me the whole time. Even as I ride away, I can still see its head turning to follow me.

Before leaving the lake areas, I stop and take a photo, like I do every time I’m here. It’s not an amazing lake, but I like it. Photo done, I make my way past the vendor and through a tunnel that passes under the train tracks and connects the lake areas to the Railway Museum. The Railway Museum itself is next to the National Railway College, and that is next to the Railway Research Institute. I must pass all three to get to my destination, but along the way, I hear people playing, and I can't resist having a look. There's a casual Sunday match on the Railway College’s football field, but this is not what I came for, so I move on without spending much time there. As I ride the last 300m, I pass numerous recreational trailers of various sizes, most of which I would describe as fold-up tents on wheels. Where are the owners, and why is everything parked on this street? I doubt all the owners work at one of the two railway institutes.

Uiwang seems to like tunnels, because there is another that runs under a busy road next to the venue, allowing me to reach the field without crossing a fairly busy road. I pass through, and I see players heading in the opposite direction for a smoke break. As the day goes on, I learn that smoke breaks are a big part of a K7 League team’s match day schedule.

The venue is a small community sports complex. In one corner are tennis courts already filled, and from them emanate the grunts of human exertion and the thunks of balls hitting rackets. Right next to the tennis courts is a sandpit used for Korean wrestling, ssireum. I believe this is my first time seeing a permanent wrestling pit. There is a path that runs roughly around the football field, and it, like the tennis court, is filled with early risers, retirees covered from head to toe in whatever can shield them from the sun. In yet another corner is a gym with badminton courts, and that too is already filled with matches.

The only unused facilities are the croquet court, which you call a court, and the workout equipment. From time to time, children come to play on the workout equipment, or an old man does something that makes no sense, but for the most part, they remain unused. Near the workout equipment are three women offering free CPR lessons. For the three or 4 hours that I’m there, I see only one person stop and take a lesson from them. The rest of the time, they sit, chat and drink coffee.

At the football field, the seats where players and spectators sit are on one side of the field, while the officials are on the stage at the opposite side. This means players who come on as substitutes must walk or run all the way around to hand in their ID cards, a big ask for some in the K7 Leagues. Next to the stage is an ambulance on standby, supplied by a local hospital, but the only thing I ever see them do is spray a tweaked muscle or two. The single ambulance seems rudimentary, but it’s still much better than pre-2020, when the ref was a player with his shirt turned inside out and medical aid was the first aid kit in someone’s car.

I missed the first kick-off by a minute, but that means I arrive when everyone involved in the first match is already here. There is no sitting around looking out of place as I wait for kick-off. While the two teams play, a surprising number of spectators stand and watch, with almost as many spectators as there are players. Most of them are older men, and it’s not easy to tell how they relate to the team. I’m guessing they are former players, and now help with training and moral support.

The lack of early morning traffic and the distance from the road make for peaceful surroundings, and we can hear everything that happens on the field. You can follow every instruction from the captain and the reactions from the players. You can hear feet on the ground and the thump as boots meet ball. Likewise, you can clearly hear when players smash into each other and apologise for possibly dangerous tackles. You can also hear the comments from the spectators. It’s not uncommon to hear one person saying something loud enough for players to hear, and have everyone on the sideline burst out laughing.

As the matches progress, it’s clear that these are not the fittest players in the country. This is K7 League, the lowest of the amateur leagues administered by the KFA. Most of the players have jobs and families, and little time to train. I imagine that for many teams, the only “team training” they get is the match itself, and whatever other matches they can arrange on weekends when the league is not in action. The keeper in the first match looks like he's smudging a spare football under his shirt and is clearly in need of some cardio training. A quarter of the way into the match, he, the goalkeeper, is already resting with his hands on his knees. But despite his physical appearance, he is the hero of his team. His 7 or 8 diving saves are the only reason they don't lose by a score greater than 0:6.

Another deceptive, out-of-shape-looking player, Gocheon’s #7, appears in the third and final match of the day. He looks like the laziest player on the field, but that is only because he is good at positioning and anticipation. He scores three goals, each from his team putting the ball into space and letting him run on to it. Once he gets the ball, he calmly picks a spot and, despite players harassing him, he smoothly places it past the keeper. How is this man not playing for Uiwang’s K6 team, or maybe even for a weaker K5 team? He scores another from a penalty, making it 4 of his team’s 5 goals. I think I might come back for another round just to see if this is a normal day for him.

Quality-wise, most of the matches are what you would expect. There are wayward passes, mis-timed runs, headers to nowhere, and most shots at goal look more like passes to the side line. All this is interspersed with moments of magic when everything comes together for a goal fit for any highlight reel. Something else I've come to expect from K7 League is the lack of dangerous challenges. There are exceptions, but refs are quick to blow for rough play, and players usually apologise immediately, usually even before the ref can get involved. I imagine this is because players understand that it’s not worth losing their ability to walk just to play a game you likely subsidise with your own money. No one wants to break or tear something, resulting in long layoffs and possibly expensive medical treatments at personal cost.

In four matches, only two collisions made me cringe. One comes as I’m walking along the sidelines. I turn around to follow the action and see a player running the ball along the flank at high speed, closely followed by a defender to provide backup. As the runner loses control of the ball, he pulls up and turns to get back in position. He is almost stationary when the backup defender clatters into him, shoulder to chest, at what looks like full speed. The thump is horrible, and the runner is knocked back. He stumbles before going down, and he stays down for a good three minutes. I don’t think there was any malicious intent, just bad timing, but that could have been so much worse.

The second incident, one that results in a player leaving the field, happens when two players clash and tumble in separate directions. The clash sounds like bone on bone, and both stay down for at least a minute. Again, it was just an accident, and no reason to believe either player intended any harm.

Overall, I’d say this was a good day out and I hope to get to some more K7 during the year.

9. Beer and Grass

Early-season kick-offs are nearing their end, and soon long trips will become impractical. Even today’s kick-off at Yangpyeong is 16:00 rather than 14:00, and their next home match will be at the summer 18:00 kick-off time. Most matches during the summer kick off at 19:00, and on a long trip, it will mean I will arrive home near midnight. I dislike arriving home that late.

Today, Yangpyeong Citizen FC hosts FC Mokpo. Mokpo are a former National League team and regulars in the top half of the K3 League. However, 2025 did not start well for them. They enter the 8th round without a single win, and their only point so far came from a draw in round 7. The upside is that the draw was against possible title challengers, Pocheon Citizen FC. I chose this match today because I’ve never been to Yangpyeong other than cycling through it, and because I have a soft spot for struggling teams. I’m hoping to see Mokpo earn its first win of the season.

An advantage of the slightly later kick-off is that I don't have to leave home as early as I normally would. But I still want to have lunch in Yangpyeong, so I decide to leave earlier anyway, and fill the time by walking from the station to the stadium rather than taking a bus. The trip starts with the normal ride into Seoul to the now familiar transfer onto the Gyeongui-Jungnang line. This is the same line that takes you to Seoul Jungnang FC, and Namyangju Citizen FC, and hopefully later this season, Paju Citizen FC. There is only one line with more teams, professional and semi-professional teams near it is Line 1, with five teams, and it used to be eight.

Yangpyeong is a favourite with cyclists, despite the time needed to get there. It’s next to a large tributary of the Han River, and connected to the Seoul-to-Busan bike path. Many cyclists get off at Yangpyeong and cycle back to Seoul, while others venture out onto the quiet mountain roads. The weather is finally warming up, and I was expecting to see masses of cyclists heading out, but there are barely any today. But it’s almost midday, so maybe I missed the rush. Without the crush of cyclists and their bikes to look at, the journey to the edge of Gyeonggi Province is almost boring. There are no weirdos to gape at, or strange scenes outside to scratch my head over, just the urban landscape, slowly turning to mountains on one side and a river on the other.

Despite the line terminating a few stations later, most people get off at Yangpyeong Station. I don't know where everyone's going, but unlike Yeoncheon, most people do not look retired. Just outside the exit is a Tourist Information kiosk. The lady working there seemed quite eager to help me, but unfortunately, I know where I'm going. I’m only looking for a map of the local attraction, for future reference. Life is not just about lower-league football, after all.

Once I leave the kiosk, it’s time to get to Yangpyeong-ing. First on the agenda is lunch. I heard Yangpyeong is big on haejangguk, so that’s what I’m looking for. Earlier, I found a restaurant on Kakao Maps and I head in that direction. Along the way, I find a different restaurant that looks good and enter for a bowl of Sundaeguk. For those who don't know, haejangguk is a soup made with chopped, throw-away bits of a pig, like the stomach, intestines, and liver. Sundae is that with a few pieces of blood-noodle sausage. It might sound disgusting, but don't poo-poo it until you try it. I don't know why Korean tourism organisations are so hesitant to introduce tourists to these kinds of foods. It's not glamorous, but it's part of Korea, and visitors usually want to experience as much of a country as they can. Food is usually high on the list of things to do; I’d happily classify it as a must-eat.

With the space in my stomach filled, I’m off to the stadium. It takes about 45 minutes, but I get to see the surroundings. Yangpyeong is fairly rural, with fields being readied for rice right next to small blocks of high-rise apartments.  Here and there are random shops and cafes. I lived in Icheon, and I thought that was rural, but I now realise why Icheon is a city, and Yangpyeong is just a county. For most of the walk the the roads are so quiet that I’m able to jaywalk at will. Instead of sharing the sidewalk with people, I share it with grass spiders scurrying across my path.

Within sight of the stadium, I find the supermarket which I marked as a location to buy snacks, water and maybe a beer or soda. It’s as quiet as the surrounding area, and the aisles are more spacious than I'm used to. This is a luxury in Korea. As is my habit, I head straight to the makgeolli to see what they have on offer. Unsurprisingly, they only have the stuff I don’t even consider real makgolli, but unlike in more urban areas, they sell theirs in double size, 1.7 litre bottles. For a brief moment, I consider getting a bottle and a can of cola, but instead, I take a bottle of corn tea because sometimes I’m Korean like that.

As I approach the stadium, I see people apparently outside the stadium, looking in. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to take a photo of someone looking at the playing field, so I head up behind the main stand for a photo, and discover that there is open access to a grass bank next to the field. Not only is someone standing there looking at players warming up, but there are people set up for a picnic. At Yangpyeong Citizen FC, you can watch football while having a picnic on a grass bank. I don't even care that there is a running track around the field, this alone must make it one of the best stadiums to visit in the country. On top of that, there is the general view from within the stadium. Some of the K3 and K4 stadiums have spectacular backdrops, and Yangpyoung is not one to be left behind. Unlike a large mountain overlooking Yeoncheon Stadium, here we have a small mountain directly next to the stadium, with the larger mountains far in the distance.

Just before the match gets underway, I find a comfortable spot under a tree and settle in for the first half. Soon after the match starts, I hear an impressive number of people chanting. On the main stand, I can see two people with drums leading the crowd. They don’t look like an organised supporter group, but more like enthusiastic spectators. The woman leading the cheering is good, and she manages to keep people active for much of the match. She is accompanied by a less active mane. Looking at them, it's not clear if they're doing this for the love of the game or if they are working for the team.

Throughout the first half, I’m distracted by playing children. The boys are throwing their shoes at each other, and the girls are picking flowers to weave together, while their parents chat on the blanket under the tree. Can they behave any more stereotypically than this? ^^

During half-time, I take a walk around the ground and make my way to the Mokpo supporters' side. There are about ten of them, but I would classify only one as a fan. He has the shirt, banner and noise maker, and occasionally he launches into a chant. The rest just sit and applaud from time to time. It seems boring, so I head around to the home side and spend most of the second half between the Yangpyeong supporters.

When the half starts, so does the distraction, or entertainment, depending on your viewpoint, of the cheerleaders. The woman is still going strong, but the man, who might be her husband, sometimes beats the drum, and sometimes gets children to do it, and sometimes stares at his phone. The spectators have those paper fans they often hand out at matches, the foldable ones that double as noise makers, and some even have plastic hand clappers. I have no idea if these were handed out before the match because I went straight to the grass banks, but if they brought them along from previous matches, then colour me impressed.

As for the match, Mokpo FC didn’t look like a team that scored only 1 point from 8 matches. They looked dangerous and even led for a while. Mokpo scored while I was wandering around towards their supporters’ side, and I didn't see it happen, but I did see both of Yangpyeong’s goals. Both looked odd, as if the keeper was surprised by events. With the match well balanced, both teams started to feel the time crunch at the end of the match. Tempers started to flare to the point where we almost saw a fist fight. But as time ran out, Yangpyeong had two goals and Mokpo only one, making it eight losses in nine matches for the visitors.

The trip home was where the weirdos showed up. Someone sleeping on the reserved seats, three women arguing loudly about who should sit where, while running back and forth to try and convince the fourth to join them, just to have her put her fingers in her ears, wave her hands and stick her tongue out like a child, and people in the oddest clothing combinations imaginable.

The trip to Yangpyeong was generally pleasant, much of that coming from the stadium and fans. I'd happily recommend this venue to anyone looking to go somewhere a bit out of the way.

2025.04.19 - Yangpyeong Sports Complex

Yangpyeong FC  vs FC Mokpo

8. A Delightful Mess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2025.04.19 - Namyangju Sports and Culture Center Main Stadium

Namyangju Citisen FC  vs Pyeongtaek Citizen FC

7. Amateur City

The K5 to K7 leagues are Korean amateur leagues. K7 League divisions include teams from single small cities or districts in larger cities. K6 League divisions comprise teams from multiple districts within a large city or multiple counties of a province. Finally, K5 League divisions include the best teams from a single large city or from an entire province.

Today I’m on my way to watch the first round of the K5 League - Seoul Division. It should come as no surprise that the Seoul Division has a few notable teams. In recent years, FC Byeoksan, based in Gwanak-gu, won the overall (think national title) K5 League title, and even made it to round three of the Korea Cup, where they fought valiantly, but were ultimately defeated by a Gimpo FC that finished high in K League 2 that year. TNT FC is a club that takes pride in its professionalism. They claim to pay players match fees, rare in amateur leagues, and the club's mission is to prepare players for life in professional leagues. TNT also has more weekly training sessions than any other team in this division. They train every day, while most teams train as few as twice a week. Lastly, there is KY FC (GeonYung FC), the team selected to represent Seoul in the 2025 Korea Cup. Most other leagues are happy with having just one team with the stature of these three. Only Jaemmix FC from Gimhae comes to mind when I think of notable K5 League teams.

Of the remaining three, FC ITPL’s goal seems to be to help players for life in other countries, which is understandable because the team was formed by a group of players returning to Korea after studying abroad. FC Together claims to put team harmony above all else, while AS FC, Hampton EMC and Jungnang District FC have no information online.

Just before I leave home, the skies darken, and light snow starts dropping from the dark cloud cover. Accompanying the snow is a wind so strong it shakes our balcony door, and blows plastic bags up and over 15-floor apartment buildings. I'm having serious doubts about this trip, but as quickly as the ominous weather appeared, it disappeares, so I gathered my resolve to go watch football.

Today’s matches will be held at a public field tucked between Hanyang University and a feeder stream to the Han River, just a short walk from the university subway station. I'm confident I'll find it easily because I attended the 2024 Homeless World Cup at Hanyang University. I have everything I need in a waterproof bag, and I’ll be early enough to find a hot lunch before the matches start.

On the way, I receive a message from my wife saying that the transfer station had a fire, and I might need to find another route to Hanyang University. While I’m scrambling to make sure I have everything for an early transfer, she sends a second message saying it was small and everything seems fine, crisis averted. I eventually reach Konggug University, and since I’m at the end of the platform, I have a chance to look out of the station windows for restaurants. There are a surprising number that I don’t remember seeing on the map. Even stranger, everything looks unfamiliar once I go through the turnstiles. Why is this? And why does that board say the train in the opposite direction goes to Hanyang University and Wangshimni?! *Deep breath.*

Last year, while attending matches at the 2024 Homeless World Cup, I arrived at Hanyang University from the South. Coming from the West, I was caught off guard by how close the University is to Wangshimni, and I didn't notice when we stopped at Hanyang. Now I’m three stops away, and definitely not within walking distance of today's venue. I won’t have time to find lunch before the matches start, so I stop by the station bakery to grab some sad-looking bread before jumping back on the train. Finally at Hanyang University, I pick up a coffee to ward off the cold before heading to the playing field.

When I arrive, I know I’m at the right place, because I see FC Byeoksan’s "fan club". It’s my third time at a Byeoksan match, and I know that no other K5 team in Seoul has one man with a drum and a handful of chants cheering them on. I also see the teams ready to walk onto the field.

The field is so new that the Kakao Maps street view only shows construction work in the area. The artificial surface field that is there now has markings for one full-size pitch or two medium-sized pitches. Behind one goal is a stand of sorts, and on the other end is a field where you can practice putting for the golf croquet hybrid that is so popular at the moment. The stand consists of giant steps that serve as seats, and there are already five to ten spectators, whom I assume are friends and family or team staff. Who else would come out to the middle of nowhere in this weather to watch Tier 5 football? That would just be silly. Near the football field is a small baseball field, and throughout the afternoon, children and parents pass by to play in what I assume is the Korean version of Little League Baseball.

In the amateur football leagues, all matches in a round are played at a single location on a single day, one following another. In the K5 League, they play full 90-minute matches, and the four matches today will run from 1 pm to almost 8 pm. This is either amazing or ridiculous, depending on your viewpoint.

The first match is a one-sided clash between FC Byeoksan vs AS FC. Most of the match is played in the AS half, where they allow a steady stream of goals. But what makes the match memorable is the weather. It shifts between overcast and sunny, rain, no rain, and sunny with rain. At one point, we had something too big and round to be snow, but too light and soft to be hail, and during one of these snow-like periods, the match was briefly stopped. The field has no protection from the wind, and the match is stopped because of the strange snow-like precipitation, the wind blows so hard that players and referees are forced to shield their eyes. Boxes and chairs rolling onto the field don’t help either. As if all this was not bad enough, it was all happening at about 5 degrees Celsius. You have to admire the dedication of everyone involved to stay on the field.

Because the match turnover is so rapid, when half-time arrives, the teams playing in the next match take the field to warm up. Just before the end of one match, the next teams are already lined up to take the field. As soon as the last player from the previous patch leaves the field, the next teams run on, greet each other and take 5 minutes for a final warm-up before the match officially starts.

During the break in the Byeosan vs AS match, I scrape together the courage and go over to the Byeoksan fan to ask him his name. If I’m going to see him again, I’d like to say “Hello.” Frustratingly, I still don't know his name because he only gives me his YouTube channel name, “Unique Football Supporter”. I’m the 12th subscriber of the channel where he occasionally live-streams to talk about football, and interacts with the one or two people watching. He also records himself while he cheers and uploads it as a vlog, complete with an introduction about the day’s match.

The second match of the day is a hard-fought one with TNT FC taking on FC Together. Both teams seem desperate to win, and at times, tackles are nasty. Some of the tackles are so ridiculous that I’m wondering if I’m watching Association Football or Rugby Football. Near the end of the match, tensions boil over when a TNT player goes in too hard on a Together player. It gets so heated that two referees have to rush and keep the players apart. And just when everything seems calm, the Together manager storms over, but is blocked by a team effort of one TNT and one Together player. I don't understand how that didn't start things up again. This is also the only match where there is obvious support. FC Together has a group of at least 20 people cheering them on, complete with rain coats in the team's colours. But they have no drums or chants, so Byeoksan FC wins that battle.

The third match is another one-sided one, with Hampton EMC taking on GeonYung (KY) FC. KY’s dominance is not surprising since, as mentioned previously, they are Seoul’s K5 representative in the Korea Cup this season. But I don’t even notice the score, because I can't take my eyes off the marshmallow that is the KY keeper. The man had the genius idea to wear a padded jacket under his shirt. It looks ridiculous, and I love it. He seems like a character. As soon as he arrives at his goal, he swings his arms around a few times, turns in my direction, pulls the strangest face, and exclaims in Korean: “It’s cold!” In case you didn't know, Koreans are genetically, culturally and possibly even legally required to state it out loud every time they feel cold. He also looks like one of the laziest keepers ever, yet he comfortably blocks every goal attempt. Although I didn't see the match, I hear he was on fire in the KY’s Korea Cup match. Despite not letting in even a single goal, he is substituted at half-time for a non-marshmallow-looking player. This half-time change reminds me of Seoul Martyrs FC, who invariably changed keepers at half-time, possibly to avoid letting one keeper concede more than 5 goals per match.

The final match is Jungnang District FC vs FC ITPL. Earlier in the week, I contacted ITPL on Instagram and received a reply. I was hoping to chat with someone about the club, but I have no idea who I’m looking for, or even which of the two teams warming up is ITPL. Sure, I can just call someone over and ask which team is which, but my “talking to strangers” energy is low after talking to the Byeoksan fan. I walk past the players warming up, hoping the person I chatted with on Instagram calls me, the only non-Korean over, but it doesn't happen, so I go back to the seating area to mope.

Without the prospect of talking to someone from ITPL, and with the sun setting behind the buildings, I decide that I will not be able to handle another two hours of the cold, and grudgingly go home. As much as I wanted to watch all four matches, I’m glad I went home. Even two hours later, after I’d had dinner and been in the apartment for an hour, I still feel cold. I can't remember if I’ve ever had to watch in weather this bad, but you know what? This is the stuff adventures are made of.

7. 아마추어 시티

K5리그부터 K7리그는 한국의 아마추어 리그입니다. K7리그 디비전에는 단일 소도시 또는 대도시의 구에서 온 팀이 포함됩니다. K6리그 디비전에는 대도시의 여러 구 또는 도의 여러 군에서 온 팀이 포함됩니다. 마지막으로, K5리그 디비전에는 단일 대도시 또는 도 전체에서 온 최고의 팀이 포함됩니다.

오늘 저는 K5리그-서울 디비전 1라운드를 보러 가는 길입니다. 서울 디비전에 주목할 만한 팀이 몇 개 있다는 것은 놀라운 일이 아닙니다. 최근 몇 년사이관악구에 연고를 둔 FC 벽산은 K5리그 종합 우승을 차지했고(아마 전국), 코리아컵 3라운드까지 진출해 용맹하게 싸웠지만 그해 K리그2에서 상위권을 차지한 김포FC에 패했습니다. TNT FC는 체계적이고 전문적인 운영으로 자부심을 가진 구단입니다. 아마추어 리그에서는 드물게 선수들에게 경기 출전료를 지불한다고 주장하며, 선수들이 프로 리그에서 뛰는 삶을 준비시키는 것이 클럽의 사명입니다. TNT는 이 디비전의 그 어느 팀보다 주간 훈련 횟수가 많고 매일 훈련하는 반면, 대부분의 팀은 주 2회만 훈련합니다. 마지막으로 2025 코리아컵 서울 대표로 선발된 팀인 KY FC(건영 FC)가 있습니다. 다른 리그에서는 이 세 팀의 위상을 가진 팀이 단 한 팀뿐이지요. K5리그의 주목할 만한 팀을 생각하자면 김해의 잼믹스 FC만 떠오릅니다.

나머지 세 팀 중 ITPL의 목표는 다른 나라에서 선수들의 삶을 돕는 것으로 보이는데, 유학을 마치고 한국으로 돌아온 선수들로 구성된 팀이기 때문에 이해할 수 있습니다. FC 투게더는 팀 화합이 무엇보다 중요하다고 주장하고, AS FC, 햄튼 EMC, 중랑 FC는 온라인에 정보가 없습니다.

집을 떠나기 직전, 하늘이 어두워지더니 짙게 낀 어두운 구름에서 눈이 가볍게 흩날리기 시작합니다. 눈과 함께 발코니 문을 흔들 정도로 강한 바람이 불어 비닐봉지가 15층 이상의 아파트 건물로 날아오릅니다. 이번 여행에 대해 심각하게 의심이 들지만, 불길한 날씨가 나타나자마자 사라지기 때문에 축구를 보러 가겠다는 결심을 굳혔습니다.

오늘 경기 장소는 대학 지하철역에서 조금만 걸어가면 됩니다. 한양대학교와 한강으로 흘러들어가는 작은 개천 사이에 있는 공용 경기장에서 열릴 예정입니다. 2024년 한양대학교 홈리스 월드컵을 보러갔기 때문에 쉽게 찾을 수 있을 거라고 확신합니다. 방수 가방에 필요한 모든 것을 챙겼고, 경기 시작 전에 따뜻한 점심을 찾을 수 있을 만큼 일찍 도착할 예정입니다.

가는 길에 아내로부터 환승역에 화재가 발생해 한양대학교로 가는 다른 경로를 찾아야 할지도 모른다는 메시지를 받았습니다. 조기 환승을 위해 모든 것을 갖추기 위해 분주히 움직이는 동안 아내에게 작은 화재였고 이제 모든 것이 괜찮아 보인다는 두 번째 메시지가 옵니다. 위기를 피했습니다. 결국 건국대학교에 도착했고, 플랫폼 끝에 도착했으니 역 창문 밖으로 식당을 둘러볼 기회가 생겼습니다. 지도에서 본 기억이 없는 놀라운 숫자가 있습니다. 더 이상한 건, 개찰구를 통과하면 모든 것이 낯설어 보입니다. 왜 그럴까요? 그리고 왜 저 게시판에는 반대 방향의 열차가 한양대학교와 왕십리로 간다고 적혀 있나요?! *심호흡.*.

작년, 2024 홈리스 월드컵 경기를 보러갈 때는 남쪽에서 출발해 한양대학교에 도착했습니다. 오늘 서쪽에서 온 저는 대학이 왕십리와 얼마나 가까운지 미처 생각하지 못했고, 한양에 지하철이 섰을 때는 눈치채지 못했습니다. 이제 경기장에서 세 정거장 거리에 있고 오늘은 경기장으로 걸어서 갈 거리에 있는 것도 아닙니다. 경기 시작 전에 점심을 먹을 시간이 없어서 역에 있는 빵집에 들러 너무 맛없어 보이는 슬픈 표정의 빵을 사서 먹고 다시 기차에 올라탔습니다. 마지막으로 한양대학교에서 추위를 가시기 위해 커피를 마시고 운동장으로 향합니다.

도착했을 때 FC 벽산의 '팬클럽'을 볼 수 있기 때문에 제가 제대로 찾아왔다는 것을 알았습니다. 벽산 경기는 이번이 세 번째인데 드럼을 들고 응원가를 몇 개나 부르는 1인 응원단은 서울의 다른 서울의 다른 K5 팀에는 없다는 것을 알고 있습니다. 또한 경기장으로 걸어갈 준비가 된 팀들도 보입니다.

이 경기장은 카카오맵 스트리트 뷰에는 해당 지역의 공사현장만 표시될 정도로 아주 최근에 지어졌습니다. 현재 있는 인공잔디구장에는 풀사이즈 경기장 1개 또는 중형 경기장 2개에 대한 표시가 있습니다. 한 골 뒤에는 일종의 스탠드가 있고, 다른 한 골 뒤에는 현재 인기 있는 골프 크로크 하이브리드 퍼팅을 연습할 수 있는 필드가 있습니다. 스탠드는 좌석 역할을 하는 거대한 계단으로 구성되어 있으며, 이미 5~10명의 관중이 친구와 가족 또는 팀 스태프로 추정됩니다. 이런 날씨에 또 누가 아무데서나 나와 5부리그 축구를 보겠어요? 그건 정말 어리석은 일일 것 같아요. 축구장 근처에는 작은 야구장이 있는데, 제가 생각하기에 오후 내내 아이들과 부모님들이 한국판 리틀리그 야구장에서 경기를 하기 위해 지나갑니다.

아마추어 축구 리그에서는 라운드의 모든 경기가 하루에 한 장소에서 하나씩 진행됩니다. K5 리그에서는 90분 풀타임 경기를 치르며, 오늘 네 경기는 오후 1시부터 거의 8시까지 진행됩니다. 이는 어떻게 보느냐에 따라 대단하거나 우스꽝스러운 일입니다.

첫 번째 경기는 FC 벽산 대 AS FC의 일방적인 충돌입니다. 대부분의 경기는 AS FC의 진영에서 열리며 꾸준히 골을 허용합니다. 하지만 경기를 기억에 남게하는 것은 날씨입니다. 흐림, 맑음, 비 옴, 비 안옴, 햇빛 쨍쨍함 사이를 오갑니다. 한때 눈이라고 하기에는 너무 크고 둥글지만 우박이라기에는 너무 가볍고 부드러운 것이 내렸는데, 눈과 같은 것이 내릴 때에는 경기가 잠시 중단되기도 했습니다. 경기장은 바람에 노출되어 있었고, 이상한 눈 같은 것이 거센 바람에 휘날려서 선수와 심판들의 시야가 가려졌고, 때문에 경기가 중단되었습니다. 경기장에 굴러다니는 상자와 의자도 도움이 되지 않습니다. 이 모든 것이 충분하지 않은 것처럼 이 모든 일은 섭씨 5도 정도에서 벌어지고 있었습니다. 경기장에 남아 있던 모든 사람들의 헌신을 존경해야 합니다.

다음 경기로의 변경이 매우 빠르기 때문에 하프타임이 되면 다음 경기에 출전하는 팀들은 경기장에서 워밍업을 합니다. 한 경기가 끝나기 직전에 다음 팀들은 이미 경기장에 나서기 위해 줄을 서 있습니다. 이전 경기의 마지막 선수가 경기장을 떠나자마자 다음 경기가 공식적으로 시작되기 전에 팀들은 서로 인사를 나누고 5분 동안 마지막 워밍업을 합니다.

벽산 대 AS 경기의 쉬는 시간에 용기를 내어 벽산 팬에게 가서 이름을 묻습니다. 다시 만나게 된다면 "안녕하세요"라고 말하고 싶어요. 답답하게도 유튜브 채널 이름인 '유니크 축구팬'만 알려주셔서 아직도 이름을 모르겠어요. 나는 가끔 축구에 대해 이야기하기 위해 라이브 스트리밍을 하고, 시청하는 한두 사람과 소통하는 채널의 12번째 구독자입니다. 그는 또한 응원하는 동안 직접 녹음하여 브이로그로 업로드하며 하루 경기 소개를 완성합니다.

오늘의 두 번째 경기는 TNT FC가 FC 투게더와 맞붙는 치열한 경기입니다. 두 팀 모두 승리를 간절히 원하는 것 같고, 때로는 태클이 격렬할 때도 있습니다. 태클 중 일부는 너무 우스꽝스러워서 제가 축구를 보고 있는지 럭비 풋볼을 보고 있는지 착각할 정도입니다. 경기가 끝날 무렵 TNT 선수가 투게더 선수에게 너무 세게 들어가면서 긴장감이 고조됩니다. 분위기가 너무 과열되어서 두 명의 심판이 서둘러 선수들을 떼어 놓아야 합니다. 그리고 모든 것이 평온해진 듯 할 때 투게더 감독이 달려들었지만 TNT 한 명과 투게더 한 명의 선수가 같이 노력해 저지합니다. 어떻게 다시 싸움이 시작되지 않았는지 이해할 수 없습니다. 또한 이 경기는 명백한 지원이 있는 유일한 경기이기도 합니다. FC 투게더는 족히 20명은 되는 응원단이 팀 컬러의 레인 코트를 입고 응원합니다. 하지만 드럼이나 구호가 없기 때문에 벽산 FC가 그 싸움에서 승리합니다.

세 번째 경기는 햄튼 EMC가 건영(KY) FC와 맞붙는 또 다른 일방적인 경기입니다. 앞서 언급했듯이 올 시즌 코리아컵에서 서울의 K5를 대표하는 팀이기 때문에 KY의 독주는 놀랍지 않습니다. 하지만 저는 득점조차 눈치채지 못합니다. KY의 마시멜로우 골키퍼에게 시선을 빼앗겼습니다. 그는 셔츠 안에 패딩 재킷을 입는 천재적인 아이디어를 가지고 있었습니다. 우스꽝스러워 보이고 저는 그것을 좋아합니다. 캐릭터처럼 보입니다. 그는 골문에 도착하자마자 팔을 몇 번 휘두르며 제 방향으로 돌아서 가장 이상한 얼굴을 끌어당기며 한국어로 외칩니다: "추워요!" 혹시 아시나요? 한국인은 유전적, 문화적, 심지어 법적으로 추위를 느낄 때마다 큰 소리로 표현해야 합니다. 또한 그는 역대 가장 게으른 골키퍼 중 한 명처럼 보이지만 모든 슛을 편안하게 막아냅니다. 경기를 보지는 못했지만 KY의 코리아컵 경기에서 그가 엄청난 활약을 했다고 들었습니다. 단 한 골도 허용하지 않았음에도 불구하고 하프타임에 비(非) 마시멜로 선수로 교체됩니다. 이 교체는 하프타임에 변함없이 골키퍼를 교체하며 한 명의 골키퍼가 경기당 5골 이상을 허용하지 않도록 하는 서울 순교자 FC를 떠올리게 합니다.

결승전은 중랑 FC 대 FC ITPL 경기입니다. 이번 주 초에 인스타그램에서 ITPL에 연락해서 답장을 받았습니다. 클럽에 대해 누군가와 이야기하고 싶었지만, 누구를 찾고 있는지, 심지어 워밍업 중인 두 팀 중 어느 팀이 ITPL인지 전혀 모르겠어요. 물론 누군가에게 전화해서 어느 팀인지 물어볼 수도 있지만, 벽산 팬과 대화한 후 '낯선 사람들과 대화하는' 에너지가 떨어집니다. 인스타그램에서 채팅한 사람이 유일한 비한국인 오버인 저를 부르기를 바라며 워밍업하는 선수들을 지나치는데, 그런 일이 일어나지 않아서 다시 자리로 가서 징징댑니다.

ITPL 직원과 이야기할 기회도 없고 건물 뒤로 해가 지는 상황에서, 저는 앞으로 2시간이나 더 추위를 견디지 못할 것 같아 툴툴거리며 집으로 돌아갑니다. 네 경기를 모두 보고 싶었던 만큼이나 집에 가서 다행입니다. 두 시간이 지난 후에도 저녁을 먹고 한 시간 동안 아파트에 있었는데도 여전히 추위를 느낍니다. 이렇게 나쁜 날씨에 꼭 봐야 했는지 기억이 나지 않지만, 있잖아요? 모험은 이런 것들로 이루어져 있어요.