Now I Support Two Crappy Soccer Teams

To my great excitement, the Korean soccer season started this weekend. To my dismay, the first Daejeon Citizen game was an away game, against Gwangju. However, seeing as this is a small country and Bolton were not playing, I decided to take the two hour train trip southwest to check out opening day. In a decision that I can only assume involved the inhalation of ether, Brenda agreed to come too.

The game was on a Sunday, and we left Daejeon on Saturday afternoon. Our first order of business was to find a hotel. There were quite a few hotels in the area, many (including ours) with bizarre mock-Russian onion domes. We definitely wanted to avoid any motels with an hourly rate, and we settled on the nearby Hiddink Motel. I took this as a good omen, as Guus Hiddink is a legendary Dutch soccer manager who led South Korea to a fourth-place World Cup finish in 2002. The gentleman at the front desk spoke no English. When he advised the price, I thought he said 40,000 won, and I wrote this on a sheet of paper to confirm. He replied, "Ah, OK." I'm not sure if I screwed myself or negotiated a great rate, but I found out later that this was considered a "first-class" hotel and I think $30 was pretty damned fair. After a great deal of difficulty finding something to eat, we went to bed.

The next day, we retraced our steps back to the train station, where I consumed my first real hotdog in over six years (delicious) and we got a great deal of help from the lady at the tourism booth. We hopped on a bus to the Gwangju National Museum. We saw a great number of historical artifacts, and a fascinating exhibit about modern takes on classical Korean painting. I was surprised by the scant number of English exhibit descriptions, but that did save us a lot of time (I'm the kind of person who reads EVERYTHING at a museum). All in all, not too shabby considering that admission was a reasonable 0 won. Hard to find that in the States, although I bet Korea doesn't have nearly as many Blackwater Security murderers on the payroll. Where are their priorities?

We then took a cab to the bus station and took a bus to the World Cup stadium. I had high hopes for this game, as Josh had advised that Gwangju were the only team worse than Daejeon last season. We also met an English Daejeon Citizen fan named Liam, who told us that Gwangju is basically a semi-professional Army team. We attempted to find the ticket office, but it seemed to be closed, and after a bit of wandering, we figured out that we could actually walk right into the stadium without paying. The stadium was far too big for the number of people there, not unlike a Sounders game at Qwest Field. Remember, this was built for tens of thousands of people at the 2002 World Cup, not for a crappy team in South Korea's 6th largest city. On the plus side, this meant the food and beer were cheap. You could buy a six-pack for the price of one Safeco Field beer.

We then circled to the south side, where the hardcore traveling Daejeon supporters were sitting. They had unfurled a massive banner across some empty seats, and were singing excitedly. Someone also released some sort of red smoke canister, which proved to be a horrible idea as the wind blew the smoke into the crowd. It smelled foul, but it's the thought that counts. The fans were being led in song by a legendary supporter with a megaphone. Video can be seen below.

The rumors of Gwangju's shitness proved to be greatly exaggerated. They went 2-0 up after Daejeon's keeper came out recklessly for a cross (twice) and missed (twice). Then just before half-time the Daejeon right-winger was sent off for a knee-high tackle that was about two weeks late. A third goal for Gwangju after the hour mark killed any faint chance of a comeback, and any faint chance of Brenda attending another game. At least I had managed to consume 5 beers during the 90 minutes, a feat which would be financially unviable at American sporting events. After a great deal of difficulty leaving the stadium, we hailed a cab to the train station and went home.

So while the outcome was less than desirable, I managed to 1) attend an away game, 2) avoid paying for it, 3) sing and swear at the game, and 4) drink a lot. If Bill Buford's classic Among the Thugs is anything to go by, I am now a genuine fan.