3:1 And Other National Disasters

On the 9th I met Lucy and Thy after work and headed to a sports bar to watch the Japan vs Australia match. Unfortunately every Japanese person in Nagoya had had the same idea and we couldn't get in, so we wandered down a side street off Fushimi Dori near the theatre and found a grungy basement bar stuffed with screaming fans that could hold another three. Most of the time I hate football. The game itself is alright I suppose, but I hate the rivalry, the bigotry and violence that goes with it in Scotland. I don't want to be part of any crowd yelling 'your wife's got cancer' or other similarly jolly tunes at an opposing team's player. When the World Cup comes round, I can usually muster enough enthusiasm to watch a couple of games before lapsing back into antipathy for another four years.
We got some drinks and settled down to watch the game. Lucy was wearing her Ono football shirt. Ono (number 18) is very cute. Come to think of it, we mused as the game progressed, most of the Japanese players weren't too bad looking. There were a couple of other teachers in the bar, including Aaron who sometimes works at Takabata. "Who are you supporting?" he asked.
"Japan."
"Why not Australia?"
"I'm not Australian."
"You're Anglo, it's practically the same."
"No, it isn't, and I live in Japan."
A Japanese player launched a spectacularly unfriendly tackle at an Australian player and everyone cheered. A man standing next to me said, "You support Japan?"
"Yes," I said.
"Ah, sugoi!" He said, delighted.
After twenty-five minutes Nakamura scored and the barflies went wild. I loved seeing the normally quite reserved Japanese jumping cheering yelling and screaming at the TV.
It was a great game to watch, lots of tackles and shots on goal. I'd watched the Netherlands vs Serbia game the night before and it'd felt like I was watching robots. Pass. Pass. Weave. Dribble. Pass. Score. Shirt on head. Yes, it was technically good football but it wasn't very interesting to the untrained viewer.
At eighty minutes, the Japanese fans were already celebrating. Australia scored. The fans dropped from elation to nervous dread, and sure enough, Australia scored two more goals in five minutes. It was awful. The guy next to me put his head on the bar and groaned. I was gutted.
Later I spoke to Iain on the phone. "Japan didn't deserve to win, the players were too selfish. They should've passed more," he said primly.
"That's not the point. I wanted them to win."
Next, Japan will be gubbed by Brazil and then they will be well and truly out. But I'll be at the front of the bar, yelling for Nakamura and chanting "Nippon! Nippon!" with everyone else.