Fans wearing their team's color watched South Korea defeat Togo on an outdoor screen.
By SAKI KNAFO
Published: June 18, 2006
WHEN it comes to soccer madness, South Korea is generally not regarded as the equal of countries in Latin America or Europe. But it had a sort of conversion experience in 2002, when South Korea and Japan jointly played host to the World Cup. The South Korean team went on an unexpected winning streak, ultimately beating Spain to earn a berth in the quarterfinals.
Jeff Z. Klein, Robert Mackey and other staff members of The Times and International Herald Tribune are tracking the world's most popular sporting event, including live match coverage.
In anticipation of this year's World Cup, large groups of immigrants from soccer-mad countries like Mexico and Senegal have been rallying around the teams of their native countries in ethnic enclaves around the city. On Tuesday, it was the South Koreans' turn to go crazy, as their national squad made its debut in the World Cup.
The country's late-blooming soccer fanaticism was proudly displayed in the mostly commercial blocks huddled around the base of the Empire State Building, where the reverberations of that famous 2002 victory could be felt and heard.
Early on Tuesday, hundreds of Koreans converged on a tree-dotted plaza on West 32nd Street near Broadway ?the heart of a cluster of bars, restaurants and other businesses collectively known as Koreatown. Dressed in the signature red of Team Korea's uniforms, they had come to watch their national soccer team square off against the team fielded by the West African nation of Togo. The match was displayed on an enormous outdoor television screen that is permanently affixed to the wall of an office building on 32nd Street.
By the time the game began at 9 a.m., a sea of red jerseys and thrumming inflatable noisemakers had spilled across the street, with the crowd chanting "Dae Han Min Guk!" ("Republic of Korea!") in a thunderous voice.
Kang Seok Lee, 22, a spiky-haired student at Borough of Manhattan Community College, wore a red shirt emblazoned with the yellow words "Again, Corea!" He stood beside Jay Shin, 29, proprietor of a clothing boutique on 32nd Street near Fifth Avenue, who had closed his shop for the morning. Mr. Shin wore a red cowboy hat, a shredded red T-shirt and red sunglasses. His girlfriend, Yunni Choi, 30, was ablaze in outsized sunglasses, cowboy boots, elbow-length gloves, a bow tie and plastic devil horns ?all red, of course.
"I don't know about soccer," said Ms. Choi, who immigrated to Woodside, Queens, from South Korea in 2002. Neither did many others in the crowd, who were drawn to 32nd Street less by an appreciation for the beauty of a perfect penalty kick than by straightforward ethnic pride.
That pride burst the confines of the plaza at 32nd Street. Korean restaurants and bars from 32nd to 36th Streets, and from the Avenue of the Americas to Park Avenue, seemed to be full of Koreans glued to television sets showing the match.
Outside Shilla, a sleek restaurant on 32nd Street near Broadway, fans lined up in front of a wide-screen television set mounted in the foyer. A few doors down the street, at the Players Lounge and Sports Bar, a packed house watched the match on multiple screens while guzzling breakfasts of Hite beer ?a Korean brand ?and free shots of vodka mixed with lemonade.
"I could die right now!" shouted an exultant 34-year-old actress named Mi Sun Choi, moments after South Korea put the finishing touches on a tense 2-1 victory.
The frenzied atmosphere had swept up even some of her non-Korean friends. "You put on the red," Michael Horan said. "And it makes you part of the action."
붉은악마는 뉴욕에서도 유명해?!
Fans wearing their team's color watched South Korea defeat Togo on an outdoor screen.
WHEN it comes to soccer madness, South Korea is generally not regarded as the equal of countries in Latin America or Europe. But it had a sort of conversion experience in 2002, when South Korea and Japan jointly played host to the World Cup. The South Korean team went on an unexpected winning streak, ultimately beating Spain to earn a berth in the quarterfinals.
Jeff Z. Klein, Robert Mackey and other staff members of The Times and International Herald Tribune are tracking the world's most popular sporting event, including live match coverage.
In anticipation of this year's World Cup, large groups of immigrants from soccer-mad countries like Mexico and Senegal have been rallying around the teams of their native countries in ethnic enclaves around the city. On Tuesday, it was the South Koreans' turn to go crazy, as their national squad made its debut in the World Cup.
The country's late-blooming soccer fanaticism was proudly displayed in the mostly commercial blocks huddled around the base of the Empire State Building, where the reverberations of that famous 2002 victory could be felt and heard.
Early on Tuesday, hundreds of Koreans converged on a tree-dotted plaza on West 32nd Street near Broadway ?the heart of a cluster of bars, restaurants and other businesses collectively known as Koreatown. Dressed in the signature red of Team Korea's uniforms, they had come to watch their national soccer team square off against the team fielded by the West African nation of Togo. The match was displayed on an enormous outdoor television screen that is permanently affixed to the wall of an office building on 32nd Street.
By the time the game began at 9 a.m., a sea of red jerseys and thrumming inflatable noisemakers had spilled across the street, with the crowd chanting "Dae Han Min Guk!" ("Republic of Korea!") in a thunderous voice.
Kang Seok Lee, 22, a spiky-haired student at Borough of Manhattan Community College, wore a red shirt emblazoned with the yellow words "Again, Corea!" He stood beside Jay Shin, 29, proprietor of a clothing boutique on 32nd Street near Fifth Avenue, who had closed his shop for the morning. Mr. Shin wore a red cowboy hat, a shredded red T-shirt and red sunglasses. His girlfriend, Yunni Choi, 30, was ablaze in outsized sunglasses, cowboy boots, elbow-length gloves, a bow tie and plastic devil horns ?all red, of course.
"I don't know about soccer," said Ms. Choi, who immigrated to Woodside, Queens, from South Korea in 2002. Neither did many others in the crowd, who were drawn to 32nd Street less by an appreciation for the beauty of a perfect penalty kick than by straightforward ethnic pride.
That pride burst the confines of the plaza at 32nd Street. Korean restaurants and bars from 32nd to 36th Streets, and from the Avenue of the Americas to Park Avenue, seemed to be full of Koreans glued to television sets showing the match.
Outside Shilla, a sleek restaurant on 32nd Street near Broadway, fans lined up in front of a wide-screen television set mounted in the foyer. A few doors down the street, at the Players Lounge and Sports Bar, a packed house watched the match on multiple screens while guzzling breakfasts of Hite beer ?a Korean brand ?and free shots of vodka mixed with lemonade.
"I could die right now!" shouted an exultant 34-year-old actress named Mi Sun Choi, moments after South Korea put the finishing touches on a tense 2-1 victory.
The frenzied atmosphere had swept up even some of her non-Korean friends. "You put on the red," Michael Horan said. "And it makes you part of the action."
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뉴욕타임즈에서 퍼왔음~