“Normally when there are 30 shots in the game, it is the United States with about 25 of ’em. Not today!”

This sentiment echoed beyond the confines of the ESPN commentary box, reverberating through the hearts of fans worldwide.

Heather O’Reilly’s late strike salvaged a 2-2 draw for the vaunted United States as they faced a resolute North Korea in their 2007 Women’s World Cup opener.

Yet, for O’Reilly, the surprising balance of play was no shock. The former U.S. international knew instinctively that it would be a battle.

Instead, it was the palpable disappointment etched on the faces of the North Korean players that struck her hardest—a sentiment of opportunity lost rather than a hard-fought point secured.

“I remember North Korea seeming disappointed,” says O’Reilly. “Their body language seemed to say ‘oh my gosh, we were so close to taking down the giant’.”

In a paradoxical twist, North Korea, the world’s most enigmatic and isolated nation, has managed to carve a significant niche in women’s football.

Despite its tumultuous social conditions, this nation has quietly emerged as a powerhouse on the women’s football stage, boasting a history that belies its economic struggles.

At that moment in 2007, North Korea’s women were ranked fifth globally, riding high on the coattails of a decade marked by three Asian titles.

Their pedigree at youth competitions is even more impressive. In 2016, they bagged the U20 Women’s World Cup, dispatching heavyweights like Spain, the United States, and France on their way to glory. That very year also saw their U17 team clinch their own World Cup.

“The game in 2007 was challenging, really super hard,” O’Reilly recalls of that intense encounter with North Korea’s senior side. “It was hard to get the ball off them; they were buzzing around, very quick.”

Yet, a spectral challenge lingered on; one unique to the North Korean conundrum.

“It was just such a cloud of uncertainty,” says O’Reilly. “The film we had on them was very limited, even by the standard of the times. Every time we played North Korea, it was always a mystery.”

And now, as the football world reflects on North Korea’s hiatus, punctuated by a doping scandal and a four-year competitive absence, the question prevails: can the North Korean women’s team rise like a phoenix from the ashes?

While O’Reilly and her teammates were left guessing, filmmaker Brigitte Weich stepped into the intricate tapestry of North Korean football, gaining a level of insight few could hope to achieve.

For five exhaustive years, Weich shadowed the North Korean team, peeling back the layers of secrecy that envelop the sport in this isolated nation for her acclaimed documentary Hana, dul, sed., external

According to Weich, the driving force behind North Korea’s surprising prowess in women’s football stems not merely from grassroots dedication but from direct endorsement by those at the pinnacle of the regime.

“The players constantly said to us that the Dear Leader Kim Jong-il [Kim Jong-un’s predecessor] personally supported women’s football,” Weich reveals.

“Of course, they refer everything directly to the leader and nothing happens without him guiding, supporting, or wanting it. But it is a very hierarchical and totalitarian dictatorship, and I think that is kind of true.”

According to Weich, the North Korean commitment to women’s football may very well trace its roots to a transformative moment at the FIFA Congress in Mexico in 1986.

Ellen Wille, a spirited Norwegian barely four feet eleven inches tall, rose defiantly to the lectern. Her thunderous call for a dedicated women’s World Cup—angering FIFA officials who relegated women’s football to mere footnotes in their reports—sent shockwaves throughout the organization. 

“Maybe someone came to Kim Jong-il and said to him that we could use this,” speculates Weich, delving into the clandestine motivations that may have prompted North Korea to elevate its women’s football program.

“North Korea is not the best in economics, science, human rights, and the rest, but in countries like this they can be good at some sports because, from the top down, they can focus on training and nothing else. I don’t think it is a total myth that Kim Jong-il had an interest in women’s football, perhaps because he saw it as a chance to show up at a world level.”

The North Korean approach to football is nothing short of methodical: comprehensive training begins at a young age, scouts are sent on national missions to uncover talent, and a central academy alongside military teams offer rigorous, state-sponsored training regimes.

However, for North Korean athletes, the allure of relocation rather than contract riches motivates many—they endure an unyielding existence, marked by severe economic hardship and scarcity.

Life for most Koreans is burdened with the weight of shortages—food, healthcare, and warmth remain luxuries often unavailable, especially in less urbanized areas.

A 2023 UN report shed light on the grim realities of forced labor and sexual violence faced by those imprisoned for dissenting against the state.

Escapees detailed harrowing accounts, including instances of women undergoing forced abortions while incarcerated.

Contrastingly, Pyongyang—a city punctuated by fading Soviet grandeur—offers a semblance of privilege with higher living standards.

High-rises, sprawling stadiums, bowling alleys, and department stores stand in stark contrast to rural desolation.

“It seems to be a privilege to live in Pyongyang and not in the countryside,” observes Weich.

“The players received, as a gift from the leader, apartments in Pyongyang and could bring their parents to Pyongyang. Being picked for the team can be a career for a woman and her entire family – it can be life-changing.”

In the landscape of women’s football during the 2000s, while England’s women struggled to draw crowds, North Korea’s national team commanded attention, filling the 50,000-seat Kim Il-sung Stadium.

Whether coerced or not, the throngs of supporters, often made up of military personnel or entire labor forces, transformed every match into a grand state spectacle—positioning the players as celebrated figures.

“They are stars,” Weich insists. “Fans know them, recognize them, and ask them for autographs.”

Such is their impact that a soap opera inspired by the women’s football team dramatized their lives—complete with familial conflicts and forbidden romances.

Joining the national squad also offers North Korean women an escape route from their constrained existence, as they cannot travel abroad without state permission.

International fixtures serve as gateways to unfamiliar worlds, a chance to glimpse a reality inhabited by those less restricted by the regime.

“The players I followed said ‘the Americans are much taller than us and much stronger than us because they have enough food and all kinds of things we don’t have—but our minds are so strong; no one expects that’,” recalls Weich, highlighting their resilience amid adversity.

“They all loved football, but the leader and the nation were big motivations. That is how they are brought up: the glory of the nation is everything, and the individual is nothing.”

At the 2007 Women’s World Cup, the North Korean women made their mark, advancing from their group after a hard-fought draw against O’Reilly’s United States, leaving Sweden and Nigeria in their wake before ultimately falling to the powerhouse of Germany in the quarter-finals.

O’Reilly vividly recalls a significant encounter during the tournament: “At that World Cup in 2007, we were staying at the same hotel as North Korea, and I clearly remember having a moment when we were in the elevator with some of the North Korean players. I remember thinking it would be cool to try to talk or play cards or anything to have some kind of cultural breakthrough. But it was definitely a fleeting thought because it didn’t appear that they wanted to engage much.”

She reflects, “there were not a tonne of smiles and eye contact being exchanged. They were all business in that elevator.”

For O’Reilly, curiosity about their national team’s discipline and rigorous training methods remained a deep-seated intrigue, “I was always so curious about their backstories.”

Yet 2011 would stand out for a vastly different reason—North Korea’s women became embroiled in one of football’s most notorious doping controversies when five players tested positive for a rare type of steroids.

Their defense was as astonishing as the scandal itself, claiming the results stemmed from a traditional medicine made from the glands of a musk deer., external Their officials even suggested that the medication had been administered following a freak incident when lightning struck their training ground back in North Korea.

This left observers questioning whether the players were fueled by mere patriotic fervor—or if they exceeded human limits through something more nefarious amid a brilliant system straddling the lines of performance enhancement.

The fallout from this scandal resounded globally, culminating in FIFA’s decision to exclude North Korea from the following 2015 World Cup. This ban substantially dented their aspirations, which continued into the 2019 tournament where they once again found themselves on the outside looking in.

After a lengthy hiatus, North Korea withdrew from hosting events for the 2023 tournament, amid some of the most stringent Covid-19 restrictions globally.

In a bid to reclaim their stature, the North Koreans made a splash at the Asian Games last autumn, clinching silver. However, they fell agonizingly short of securing a place at the Paris 2024 Olympics, edged out by Japan in a two-legged playoff that ended in a 2-1 aggregate defeat.

What the future holds for this once-great team remains shrouded in uncertainty. Can a rich pool of youthful talent transform into robust senior players? With the women’s game evolving at a rapid pace globally, and North Korea’s increasing isolation, the challenges ahead are daunting. Furthermore, how has the pandemic’s border closure reshaped the regime’s priorities, placing essential needs for its populace front and center amid distressing reports of food shortages?

In the realm of North Korean football, from grand ambitions to minute realities, every facet is shrouded in mystery.