A Story Beyond the Scoreboard
Volunteering at the Korea Men’s Wheelchair Basketball Match in Jamsil
Entering the Court with Purpose
On a humid June afternoon in Seoul, I walked into the Jamsil Indoor Stadium not just as a spectator, but as a volunteer. The event was the Korea Men’s Wheelchair Basketball League, a game that transcends physical limits and celebrates courage, teamwork, and resilience.
We came to cheer, but we found ourselves doing much more than clapping from the stands. What began as an afternoon of support became a lesson in dedication, respect, and unseen effort.
Cheering with Heart
Before the first whistle blew, volunteers like us were asked to sit among the crowd to help energize the atmosphere. As the players rolled onto the court, the stadium erupted in applause. Each swift pass and precise shot drew waves of excitement.
The game was intense—fast, strategic, and fiercely competitive. The athletes maneuvered their wheelchairs with stunning precision, turning defense into offense in a heartbeat. Every time a player fell and got back up, the crowd cheered, not out of pity, but admiration.
In those moments, we weren’t just spectators; we were part of something powerful—a shared rhythm of encouragement and respect that filled every corner of the stadium.
Behind the Final Buzzer
When the game ended and the noise faded, our real work began.
As spectators left their seats, we gathered near the benches, putting on gloves and picking up cleaning supplies. Our task was simple but meaningful: restore the stadium to its original state—clean, organized, and ready for the next game.
We began by wiping down the players’ benches, sweeping the floor beneath them, and collecting used towels and bottles. Then we moved to the broadcasting area, carefully cleaning around cables, headsets, and monitors without disrupting any setup.
Next came the locker rooms. The air carried the scent of hard work and victory. We mopped floors, restocked supplies, and took out trash. It was quiet, humbling work—the kind that most people never see, but that keeps the heart of every event beating.
We didn’t stop there. We cleaned the referee’s station, the edges of the court, and even the padded boards along the baseline where the wheelchairs had left scuff marks. Each mark told a story of effort and competition, and wiping them clean felt like honoring the athletes who made them.
More Than Just Cleaning
As we worked, we realized that cleaning wasn’t only about tidying up—it was about showing respect. Respect for the athletes who gave their all, for the spectators who came to cheer, and for the game itself.
One elder volunteer shared words that stayed with us:
“경기는 한 시간 반이면 끝나지만, 우리가 남기는 인상은 더 오래 가요.”
(“The game may last ninety minutes, but the impression we leave lasts much longer.”)
That sentence captured the spirit of why we were there.
A Community in Motion
There was a quiet sense of teamwork among the volunteers. We came from different walks of life—students, retirees, office workers—but in those few hours, we worked like a single unit. We passed buckets, shared tools, and laughed while tackling stubborn stains.
By the time we finished, the court gleamed once more. The arena was silent again, but it felt full—filled with stories, effort, and silent gratitude.
Volunteering at the wheelchair basketball league reminded us that support doesn’t always mean standing in the spotlight. Sometimes, the truest form of respect is found in the quiet after the game—in the careful hands that restore, the unseen work that uplifts, and the lasting impression left behind.
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