Shimizu Impulse? Falling for the J. League

First published on The Inside Left, August 2nd, 2013. 

November 2003, and I’m propping up a bar in downtown Shizuoka city.

- “Shimizu Impulse?”

An inauspicious start to my career as a J. League fan – getting my team’s name wrong.

- “No, mate. Shimizu S-Pulse” my fellow Brit corrected me.  

- “Fair enough, but what the hell is an S-Pulse?”

- “No idea.”

Having moved abroad, the first thing I did – like any Englishman in need of football – was seek out my new local team – just something to fill in the Saturday afternoons while I was separated from my “proper” team. What followed wasn’t part of the plan. Thoroughly seduced by the J. League’s charms, the last decade has seen a vaguely interested punter evolve into a fanatical Shimizu supporter, replete with a minor level of celebrity at their Nihondaira home as “that foreign guy”. What was meant to be one quick year in Asia has extended to over a decade, down in no small part to that irresistible team in orange: Shimizu S-Pulse*.

Yesterday and Today

Think of the J. League and, if you’re Italian or Brazilian, you may think of Jubilo Iwata, the club Toto Schillaci and Dunga helped to claim several titles in the late Nineties. With Ossie Ardiles having been in charge during one S-Pulse’s more successful spells, the Argentines amongst you might think of my own adopted team. As an Englishman, I always recalled Gary Lineker running around in the garish red and yellow of Nagoya Grampus Eight.

When I first stepped off the plane, the J. League was still only in its 12th year, but times had changed. The above image of Japanese football, one of ageing Western stars picking up a fat pay cheque in their twilight years, was already outdated. The reality is that few, if any, teams can currently afford the inflated wage demands of ready-to-retire superstars. You’ll find them more likely to head to China’s booming Super League or Australian’s A. League. The most recent big name to try out J. was Freddie Ljungberg in 2011. Life in Japan failed to meet his expectations and he was gone within six months.

The league soon passed beyond the initial boom, with economic conditions reaching a nadir in the late Nineties. The low after the high was sufficiently severe to see one team unceremoniously merged with another (I use the term loosely because, as any fan will tell you, Yokohama Flügels was effectively dissolved). However, boosted by the 2002 World Cup, the situation recovered and stabilized, and currently the J. League operates on a solid business plan, within the present financial realities. Slow and steady expansion has seen the number of teams reach 40, and a third tier is due to kick off next year.

These days, the biggest names are the returning heroes from abroad. Shunsuke Nakamura single-handedly added hundreds to the average Yokohama F. Marinos gate, and Shinji Ono shifted merchandise to rival that of any overseas star when he moved home from Germany. The time will eventually come for Shinji Kagawa and Keisuke Honda to return, and whichever team shells out for their wages will rake in millions via merchandising appeal.

Up Nihondaira Way

Shimizu S-Pulse never had been one of the big players at bringing in foreign stars. Unlike the remaining nine of the original 10 clubs, S-Pulse was not an ex-company team turned pro. This meant lacking the clout of a multinational’s backing. Mitsubishi? Nissan? Yamaha? All spawned readymade teams for the new league, complete with multimillion yen backers. S-Pulse was established by local companies and people, never quite enjoying the same financial advantages. Rather than players, their most well-known names would come from within the managerial record. Ardiles, for example, was succeeded by former Spurs team mate Steve Perryman.

Unaware of any of this in April 2004, when I was heading up to Nihondaira Stadium for the first time, my naive images of former Serie A and Premier League names flooding the pitch were blasted out the water. But as it turned out, my first game – Shimizu S-Pulse vs Urawa Red Diamonds – was a corker. 2-0 down at half time, S-Pulse rode out 4-3 winners. The boys in orange had staged a fight back after which it would have been perverse not to fall in love with them.

Nihondaira, in common with many of Japan’s stadia, lacks adequate protection from the elements, so my next game was spent huddled under a plastic 100 yen umbrella, attempting in vain to avoid the effects of a raging typhoon. To top off that soggy evening, visitors Cerezo Osaka poked home a late winner. It mattered not. The seeds of a love affair had been planted at that seven-goal thriller.

UK Ultras?

I was instantly hooked on the huge flags and unrelenting samba, but above all it was the sense of freshness that was most captivating; a new team and a clean slate, a world away from my native Brighton’s third-tier struggles. New stadia to explore (including some which had been burnt into England’s consciousness during the Japan/South Korea World Cup), some wonderfully named opponents, and a refreshingly laid back attitude to alcohol – it proved an irresistible combination. Discovering it acceptable to bring your own drinks, I began arriving at the stadium earlier and earlier. The couple of hours before a game usually spent down the pub got transplanted inside the stand, with a six pack and a pack of cards. After all, the season largely avoids winter by running from March to December, providing no shortage of long summer evenings.

For the next few years I would drag not-especially-interested friends up Nihondaira to enjoy the sunshine, beer and football. The UK Ultras website and accompanying books and t-shirts have all come about more recently, and for that you can thank the hospitality of one young fellow named Takumi. His innocent greeting lit the fuse which ultimately led to a well controlled habit exploding into full-blown obsession. Foreign faces are not uncommon at Japan’s soccer stadia, but my repeated presence would lead locals to strike up conversation, curious to know what kept bringing me back. In 2008 it went a step further as Takumi-san insisted I join his group nearby. As luck would have it they were some of the nicest people I’ve met, and over the coming months we developed into a loose gang, calling ourselves the UK Ultras.

A website to document our adventures followed, but with Shimizu depressingly disinterested in global marketing, it became a window for the world into S-Pulse. With that in mind, the focus has shifted more onto publicizing the team worldwide. Now into our sixth year, the UKU fly the flag all over the country, trying to have some laughs while we’re at it. Not always easy when in those six seasons we’ve seen zero silverware and witnessed four cup semi final and three cup final defeats.

The idea of our own ultras troop was always tongue in cheek, but soon developed a serious edge. We’ve covered thousands of miles and spent countless games together, endured numerous no-score draws, occasional on-field heroics and enjoyed some unforgettable away days.  Having been absorbed into a group of regular fans, I’ve been permitted to experience the J. League from the inside. The experience has ensured my affiliation for S-Pulse strengthened beyond anything that went before. 10 years ago I wouldn’t have believed that my support for Brighton could face competition, but fortunately, barring an unlikely Club World Cup meeting, I’ll never have to choose between the two.

It may be the dynamic nature of football in Japan – new teams joining the league, extra divisions being added, the continued strides made by national team – but 10 years have passed in a heartbeat.  The longer I stay, and the more I travel the country with my horde, the stronger my affinity to my club and home city becomes. Trekking eight hundred miles to Sapporo to stand and shout for Shimizu is these days as much about representing my home town as it is supporting the team. It’s become much the same as following my team around England. The same, but different.

The J. League is worlds apart from football in England. The fans are different. Very different.  Yes, they do spend the whole 90 minutes singing, not even pausing for breath when they concede a goal. Yes, there is a lot of arm-waving and scarf-twirling, and yes there is a far greater mix of women and children in the crowd. Banter between home and away ends may be largely lacking – anathema to most European fans – but with three points for a win and one for a draw, ultimately how different can football really be?

Since the league began, a lot has happened. What was once an ageing stars’ retirement home now couldn’t be further from it. This is a fascinating league, with good and improving native players. The limits placed on non-Japanese playing staff are unlike anything that could exist within the EU, but they guarantee the protection and development of local talent. Japan reaching the last 16 in South Africa was anything but luck, and the complaints about a lack of competitiveness leveled at some top leagues cannot be directed at J1; in the last 10 years, seven different teams have claimed the title.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

When I first learnt of Shimizu, I’d have been incredulous at the idea of growing so wrapped up in their fortunes. It’s been a pleasure, but becoming involved to this degree brings with it an accompanying dilemma.  As time passes and the pull of my homeland grows stronger, at some point I will be forced to make a decision. Do I one day leave the team behind, deserting my brothers in orange, or do I elect to never regularly watch my old team again? This may well be the cause of sleepless nights to come.

As tough a quandary as it is, the UK Ultras are not about to fold up their flag any time soon. For starters there is the second half of 2013 to worry about. Right now we’re focused on enjoying the home games, covering as many away miles as possible and maybe, just maybe, someday seeing Shimizu claim their first J. League title. Recent finishes of ninth and 10th may not suggest it is coming soon, but an undeniable charm point of J1 is its unpredictability. Recent champions Nagoya, Kashiwa and Hiroshima can all be said to have emerged from relative obscurity to claim the title.

Early in my first season following Shimizu, I brazenly swore to stay in the country until I saw them lift the championship trophy. I may yet be here a while. But joking aside, S-Pulse have moved far beyond the point of novelty, and my life as a supporter in Shimizu has largely become football as usual, just in Japan. It’s an ongoing journey, and long may it continue.

*In case you’re wondering, S-Pulse is a combination of the ‘S’ from Soccer, Supporter and Shimizu, and the ‘Pulse’ of the city, beating to the samba rhythm of exciting football. Simple.

From Fujieda To The World

First published on In Bed With Maradona, July 30th, 2013.  

In a rural corner of Shizuoka prefecture a new community-owned MyFC competes in the Japan Football League (JFL), the nations’ semi-pro third tier. Sporting a website splashed with the slogan “From Fujieda to the World!” they harbour big ambitions. But in a part of the country neatly divided between Shimizu S-Pulse orange and Jubilo Iwata blue, is there room for a new kid on the block? Against this backdrop, what is the reality Fujieda MYFC must face in establishing a foothold in the local football culture, and how do their immediate prospects shape up?

At the end of May the J1 season began a seven week hiatus while the national team joined the Confederations Cup. As fans battled an ungodly time difference to follow the Samurai Blue in Brazil, there was no shortage of domestic action to occupy the weekends. The top tier may have pressed pause, but J2 was just getting into its stride. Vissel Kobe and Gamba Osaka were enjoying the limelight, putting space between themselves and the chasing pack, while one level further down the pyramid the JFL was also benefiting. Teams living in the shadow of top flight neighbours had an opportunity to break through the shade and appeal directly to those temporarily bereft of live football. 

So it was that I found myself at the modest Citizen Ground, home to Fujieda MYFC. Situated between Shimizu and Iwata, Fujieda was once home to the club that would become Avispa Fukuoka. Stifled by their role as the meat in an S-Pulse Jubilo sandwich, in 1994 the then-Fujieda Blux upped sticks and headed south.  In 2009 a local MyFC project arrived on the scene, modelled on the community ownership plan pioneered at England’s Ebbsfleet United. The subsequent purchase of Fujieda Nelson saw the birth of Fujieda MYFC.

Long before their maiden JFL season, MYFC had set out their stall as a team with aspirations. At the club’s inception former Shimizu and Japan defender Toshihide Saito was appointed player manager. A major coup while still in the prefectural leagues, by 2012 they were competing on the national stage. In August of that year the signing of former Brazil U20 international Kerlon demonstrated their ambition was far from sated. 2013 saw that sentiment underlined with the unveiling of S-Pulse legend Daisuke Ichikawa.

In recent seasons the JFL has grown polarised between company teams and those who have cut the corporate apron strings to aim for the J. League. Resultantly, the table top has become bottlenecked with teams illegible for promotion to J2. From 2014 J3 will give a home for those aspiring for J, and MYFC are eager to make the jump. Although the above mentioned Citizen Ground is little more than a training venue, the floodlit Fujieda Sports Complex Park boasts a main stand equipped to accommodate 5,000; on a par with some J1 stadia. Surrounding banking raises the capacity to 13,000. On the surface MYFC appear primed for the step up. Which brings us back to Blux. When they left for Fukuoka they made a loud and clear statement that, with Shimizu east and Iwata west, there was nowhere left for a third team to develop. What are MYFC doing differently that they may succeed in an environment largely unchanged from 1994?  

Support is currently solid if not spectacular, with 1,500 crowds not uncommon. J1’s summer break may have brought a few extra through the turnstiles, but gates were not impacted in any major way; a solid basis is already in place. But one facet impossible to overlook is the large number of Shimizu supporters present. Whether through a scan of window stickers in the car park, or the assortment of orange accessories on bags and phones, S-Pulse supporters comprise a not insubstantial section of the Fujieda fan base. Consider both the manager and most famous player are ex Shimizu heroes, and the ties are unmistakable. 

Circumstances may therefore conspire to create something of a false sense of security for MYFC. Separated by two divisions, no Shimizu Fujieda rivalry can yet be said to exist. Dual supporters can easily maintain a balancing act, but in considering the long term an obvious difficulty arises.  Football in Fujieda rarely clashes with Shimizu home weekends, but if so, never on the same day. If the two should compete head to head, these fans would be faced with an impossible dilemma. Or perhaps not. The J. League may only be in its 21st season, but two years, much less two decades, is enough to cement affiliations. 

This is not to suggest MYFC is a side project of S-Pulse fans, or that the club is overly reliant on borrowed support. The team has its own clear identity and culture. The signing section is always a solid pocket of purple. A full youth set up is in place, and MYFC is undoubtedly standing on its own two feet. Whereas Blux sought J1 football hard and fast, MYFC have a long term plan allowing them to take things slowly. Exploiting former Shimizu or Iwata stars is a key method by which to tap the region’s supply of J. League fans and exploit interest. Ultimately, the process should cultivate some of their own, purple-exclusive support.

The population of Fujieda reveals it to be one of the smaller cities aiming for the J. League, but average gate growth since 2009 suggests a solid three thousand would not be out of the question for a debut J3 season.

After interest stalled and backers fell away, Ebbsfleet United recently parted company with their MyFC owners. The unhappy ending to the original community ownership venture serves as a warning. Before aiming to emulate J1 neighbours, Fujieda must ensure they don’t fall at the same hurdle. Resisting the drop off in sponsors which killed the Ebbsfleet experiment must remain top priority; crucial especially for a club already burdened with a number of high earners. Significant inroads into orange and blue catchment areas need to remain a long term goal. The key at this time is baby steps, but a third team in Shizuoka does appear, if tentatively, sustainable.

 J. League football is certainly not out of reach, but global ambitions notwithstanding, it’s unlikely that MYFC will be challenging for J1 in the foreseeable future. Having acclimatised to JFL and made midtable their own, a season or two of on-pitch development is still necessary, but J3 by the middle of the decade is not unrealistic. Operating at that higher level would then provide a valuable assessment of ambition with respect to reality. 

Iwata and Shimizu may face no immediate threat to their current hegemony, but would do well to guard against complacency. Ask any Verdy Kawasaki supporter: situations can and will change. This is a major charm point of Japan’s developing football culture, and endeavours like Fujieda MYFC ensure there will be no stagnation any time soon.

J. League 20th Anniversary Game? You're Doing it Wrong

First published on UK Ultras, May 10th, 2013. 

It was with interest that I noted the 20th Anniversary Game banner splashed across the J. League website. Urawa Red Diamonds v Kashima Antlers. Uninspiring choice, I thought. Guess this must be part of a series of celebratory games, I thought. On further inspection, I was wrong. This is it. One game, out of a weekend of 20. One game, out of a season of hundreds. 

So why this particular match? One half of the line up is obvious. The other, not so much. Kashima Antlers: Seven time league winner, five time J. League Cup winner. Urawa Red Diamonds: One time league winner, one time J. League Cup winner.

So why Urawa of all teams? These two did build up something of a rivalry over the late 00s, but aside from that what is there to lift this game from the pack? Not much. For one, Urawa can hardly claim to be the best team in the country. Hell, at the time of writing they’re not even the best team in Saitama. I read that they were selected for their support; the highest 14 years from 20. Six years it wasn’t, and two years it was the lowest, but never mind that. Recently it’s been the largest.

But is that it? Is that really the best they could think of? A flimsy piece reasoning at best, and at worst, pure laziness. If we must pluck just one league game for this landmark event, I can easily think of some more fitting ways to mark the occasion. First off, there are several teams with a more impressive J. League record than just getting bums on seats. Yokohama F. Marinos have three titles and a league cup to their name. Jubilo Iwata have three league titles, along with two league cups. If we want to get more symbolic, while the first champions versus the current would have had a nice symmetry, Verdy Kawasaki are otherwise engaged in J2 with a new name. So why not last year’s champions versus the Kashima? Any of the above, while better, would still bring with it one major issue. Who’s going to watch this flagship match? Not most of the country. They’ll be on the way home from their own games. Even if it was played on its own special day would they bother? Impossible to say, but personally? Nah.

What is even set to happen on the big day? Kashima get a round of applause for winning the league 7 times? Two teams take the plaudits on ever one else’s behalf for twenty years of football? Was it honestly a case of simply picking the nicest, easiest to get to stadium from Tokyo so the big wigs can have a pleasant evening and be out in Roppongi by 10pm? I'd hope not, but why else then would it not be staged at the home of the most successful team? Congratulations Urawa, you were chosen for your access and your arm rests.

A better way to mark the 20^th year of this great league would be, instead of commandeering a regular game, to have a proper exhibition match. Kashima XI vs J. League Historical XI? Or maybe a good old fashioned East vs West. Perhaps that was all too much work, so hijacking a run of the mill league match and running with that was the easiest option. Hogging all the fun for one league game does seem selfish. What should have been enjoyed by all is closed to all but two teams; two sets of fans. For the other 38 J. League teams and their supporters it ensures the whole rigmarole becomes a complete irrelevance. An landmark which should have been enjoyed by all will pass us by, the opportunity for something memorable lost. Here's hoping the 30th Anniversary Game won't be a similarly fluffed affair.

Reactions to Crowd Disturbances in the J. League

First published on UK Ultras, May 2nd 2013 in response to crowd trouble at Urawa vs Shimizu.

After last weekend’s trouble at Urawa v Shimizu I found myself, against my better judgment but with morbid fascination, sucked in to YouTube’s comments section. While it was the inevitable car crash of bitching and name calling, I also picked up on a recurring theme of discussion. It was at once fascinating but ultimately disturbing. A number of comments sympathising with the Urawa cause, while predictably attempting to shift the blame, were at the same time suggesting Shimizu supporters not only caused the initial exchanges, but actively ensured their escalation.

To recap, shortly after S-Pulse’s traditional post game celebration, several Urawa fans arrived next to the away enclosure shouting, gesturing and demanding an end to the festivities. In response, a chorus of Kingdom Shimizu rang out. After the majority of S-Pulse fans had left the ground, 150 home fans blocked a remaining group of fifty in the stadium for over four hours. The reason given in holding these people captive, one frequently repeated online since, is that S-Pulse supporters were “unreasonably happy” in their celebrations and as such failed to respect the home team.

No, you read that correctly. Unreasonably happy and failing to respect the home team. Perhaps the home supporters are uniquely thin skinned, but the travelling support did nothing most normal people would consider as a display of disrespect. Two different chants were sung, neither mentioning Urawa. The first, the regular S-Pulse victory dance, the second Kingdom Shimizu. Kingdom Shimizu is a song which gets an airing after beating Urawa, an area traditionally rivals when claiming the heart of Japanese football, or local rivals Jubilo Iwata. 

A genuine show of “disrespect” could have taken the form of obscene messages aimed at the home team (as Kashima once did against Urawa), damaging the home team’s flags (as Urawa once did at Shimizu’s Nihondaira), or taking the singing outside the stadium. Any of these would have been an act of aggression, but none of these were the case. In approaching a jubilant away end demanding silence, was there ever going be an outcome besides heckling and triumphant chanting with renewed gusto? Not on this planet. The travelling hoards acted as any football fans should, and a minority of home fans had a temper tantrum.

Returning to the argument levelled at to Shimizu fans, if you follow that particular logic it leads us on to some very shaky ground. Home fans blockaded the away zone because they were unhappy, firstly with the away fans’ delight at victory, and subsequently at their refusal to be quiet. Pretty spurious grounds by which to forcibly restrict people going home you may think, and you would be right, but who was there to stop them? Nobody. For four hours the issue went unresolved. No police presence was brought in to remove the law breakers and free those trapped. 

What possible reasoning there was for not requesting police assistance, who can say? Avoiding publicity? Unwillingness to admit a loss of control? We’re left merely to speculate, but in not confronting the aggressors Urawa acquiesced to mob rule. You can be certain this incident will be repeated, the mob’s confidence bolstered. Indeed, this wasn’t even the first time this has happened at Saitama Stadium, and who knows what ever-more flimsy provocation will be cited as justification next?  “How dare the away area keep not quiet during our team announcement?” “Who do they think they are beating us is in such an important game?”

The reality is you can’t put any restrictions on any supporters’ freedom in cheering, and if you try to you can kiss all atmosphere goodbye. Violent or genuinely inciteful behaviour aside,  booing, cheering, making a row over the home fans, and most of all NOT shutting up just because your opponents may have hurt feelings are essential to any free and fair football stadium. If after victory Urawa decided to mimic S-Pulse’s victory song I’d say fair play, you’ve earned your moment, enjoy it as it’s your right, rubbing our faces in it as you see fit. There is nothing else you can say. 

The actions of those on Saturday were juvenile in the first instance, but doubly perverse has been the attempts to justify them through ambiguous and loaded, but ultimately meaningless, language such as respect and offence. That the police didn’t disperse the wrongdoers accepts mob rule as a method of crowd regulation. Unless the J. League, still silent on the issue a fortnight on, come down on the ringleaders, not only will the door be thrown wide open for repeats, but a standard will have been established: Our stadium, our rules. Do as we say or accept the consequences, because the law of the land simply doesn’t apply. 

That’s called anarchy, and obviously not a route the J. League wants to start down. As people shamelessly throw around the word respect for their own ends, in burying its head deep in the sand, the J. League runs the risk of losing theirs, and gaining a reputation as a governing body people simply can’t trust to police their league effectively.

Evolution of the J. League

First published on Afshin Ghotbi's official website, April 25th 2013.

The Ever Changing Face of the J. League

The current format of the J. League’s top flight, a single stage, three points for a win, one for a draw, has only been in use since 2005. The preceding two thirds of the league’s history have seen a multitude of formats and different methods of winning. With rumours afoot of more changes, Barry Valder takes a look back at the evolving face of the J. League, and explains why further alterations should be approached with caution.

Pointless Beginnings

The inaugural J. League season was played over two stages but organised otherwise, at least on the surface, conventionally. Teams played each other home and away once each stage. With ten founding members it equated to 18 games per team, per stage; effectively two full seasons of football. The winner of each went head to head in the Suntory Championship to decide the year’s champions.

An early curiosity was the absence of draws. Games were decided, if not within the 90 minutes, then by either an extra time golden goal or penalty kicks. Further quirks included a pointless league system. That is to say, the league table contained no points column. With no 3 for a win and 1 for a draw, teams were ranked simply on wins, followed by goal difference. Points were introduced in 1995, but even then with a spin. Teams could claim the usual 3 for a win, but losing a penalty shoot out would still earn a point. A nod to the oft cited arbitrary nature of penalty kicks. 

Juggling the Numbers

In 1996, with the league expanded to 16 teams, two stages of 30 games each were considered too much, and the year was contested over a single phase. This single season format was short lived. The addition of Vissel Kobe in 1997 saw it abandoned in favour of the preferred two phases, made possible by teams playing opponents once home and once away, but spread over both the two stages.

The points system would also be overhauled, with teams awarded 3 for a win within 90 minutes, 2 for a golden goal victory, and 1 for win in a shoot out. Losers on penalties were no longer recognised for ending 120 minute all square, and received nothing. Additional tweaking in 1999 finally saw draws permitted. Golden goals were maintained as a two point victory, but the spoils were now shared in games ending level after 120 minutes. 

In the first season after the Japan / South Korea World Cup the J. League assumed a largely traditional form. 3 points for a win, 1 for a draw, no penalty kicks and no extra time. The season was still split over two stages, but 2004 would prove the final time. From 2005 there was no longer to be an end of year play off. With the league fought over a single season, the champions were decided simply by points won. 

This change addressed, albeit after the event, the awkward fact that 2000’s best performing team were excluded from the championship play off. Despite winning the most points over the year, Kashiwa Reysol failed to top either stage. As such, they stepped aside as Kashima Antlers, with four fewer points and an inferior goal difference, claimed the title against Yokohama Marinos.

Don’t Go Changing

Citing falling gate receipts, April 2013 saw reports of the league eyeing a returning to a two stage format. The logic runs that an increase in games infused with trophy interest will retain fans is greater numbers. It is easy too to understand the temptations a championship marquee event brings. TV rights and sponsorship deals are an obvious goldmine, with a glamorous winner-takes-all season climax custom made for TV audiences. But a return to reliance on orchestrated drama is a dangerous route to take. Having evolved steadily away from the induced excitement of penalty shoot outs and golden goals, grand final-type events should be viewed beyond their superficial lure. Rather, they need to be evaluated on whether after an entire season’s play they provide a just outcome.

In the extreme circumstance of 2000, Kashiwa Reysol missed out on even a playoff berth, but when both top performing teams did make the playoff, only two from twelve were won by the club with the highest season points total. 1999 saw a discrepancy of sixteen points between finalists.  With Shimizu S-Pulse five wins better off than opponents Jubilo Iwata, it was perhaps inevitable that Iwata would prevail in the playoff. Moreover, the game was decided on penalty kicks; a year of football forgotten as two teams tossed the proverbial coin. The shoot out lottery was repeated in 2004. Urawa Red Diamonds lost to a Yokohama F. Marinos side 3 points and a goal difference inferior in the combined league table.

Just The Way You Are

Faced with a downward trend in spectatorship we must broaden our focus beyond quick fix solutions. The biggest average gates in 2012 were housed in new, covered stadia. With many Japanese football venues still old, uncovered, athletics grounds, the attractiveness to floating customers is immediately limited. Improving the supporter experience is just one long term process to help tackle the issue. Perhaps higher outlay than a competition reformat, but as one of Asia’s best, the J. League should have greater confidence in its pulling power without resorting to manufactured thrills. 

2005’s closing day saw arguably the league’s finest moment. In a remarkable 90 minutes the championship swung repeatedly between several title contenders. At full time the top five were separated by a single point, but a clear champion was crowned. An orthodox league structure, the only true gauge of performance over the year, can at the same time cultivate organic drama beyond any script.

Above all, supporters desire a just outcome. Awarding the title Champions to any team other than the best undermines a competition; far from a solid basis from which to build. Most major leagues follow a uniform format for the simple reason it is fair and it works. Reversing falling crowd numbers is a big task, but perhaps the biggest challenge is to do so without re-inviting question marks over the name engraved on the championship trophy.

The Shizuoka Derby - A History

First published on Afshin Ghotbi's official website, April 9th 2013.

A History of the Shizuoka Derby

On April 13^th Shimizu S-Pulse will welcome Júbilo Iwata to Nihondaira for the latest instalment of the Shizuoka Derby. Barry Valder takes a look back at the last two decades and how they have shaped the development of one of the most fiercely contested games in Japanese club football. 

Remember 1993

With a sporting landscape long dominated by baseball, Japan has often been considered to consist of a number of specific areas where football flourished, relatively free of the lure of the diamond. One of those was Shizuoka prefecture. Before the establishment of the J. League in 1992, the region had a history of success in producing both championship winning high school teams, and a disproportionately large percentage of professional players. It was against this background that when the J. League committee was accepting founding member applications, two teams from the area had their sights firmly set on a prestigious Original Ten spot. 

Based in Iwata city, Yamaha Corporation’s company team had competed in the amateur Japan Football League since the early 1970s. Restructured as an independent professional team in line with J. League guidelines, Júbilo Iwata would find itself beaten to the punch by the newly formed Shimizu S-Pulse. Located an hour east, S-Pulse was formed not with the backing of a major international corporation but through the efforts of local businesses and supporters. This grassroots ethic may have appealed to the selection committee, because it was Shimizu not Iwata who participated in the inaugural J. League Cup in 1992 and the first full season the following year.

The seeds of this rivalry were thereby sown long before a ball was kicked. The frustration that it was Shimizu who enjoyed the prestige and ceremony in being a founding member was immortalised in the Iwata banner REMEMBER 1993. This can be seen to this day in the sky blue end when the teams meet.

Origins and After

The first instalment in what would become the league’s longest consecutively running derby came in the 1993 Nabisco Cup when Iwata journeyed to Shimizu’s new Nihondaira Stadium. The home team would claim a 2-0 win, an outcome repeated when the two came head to head for the first time in the league. On April 6^th 1994, 18000 packed Kusanagi Athletics Stadium’s grass banks for the occasion. Shimizu triumphed again, this time 1-0, but early dominance by the oranges was not to last. The following eight derbies would all go Iwata’s way. 

Shimizu would claim the first silverware of the pair in the form of the 1996 Nabisco Cup, but like their initial signs of derby ascendancy it was to prove a false dawn. Beginning in 1997 Iwata entered a golden period claiming three league titles along with the Nabisco Cup, Emperor’s Cup and Asian Club Championship once each. While Shimizu took home the Emperor’s Cup on New Year’s Day 2002, the imbalance in honours was clear, and Iwata revelled in their supremacy.

This superiority was underlined in excruciating circumstances for Shimizu in 1999. With the season at that time still contested over two stages, Iwata had claimed the first and Shimizu the second. At the end of the year Shimizu sat atop the combined league table sixteen points superior to Iwata. Nevertheless, the two met in the Suntory Championship season climax. All square over two legs, penalty kicks would crown Iwata champions. S-Pulse manager Steve Perryman was openly scathing of Iwata’s style of football and the injustice of the outcome.

(Un)Friendly Rivalry

The label of Silver Collectors is applied to Shimizu with glee by Iwata supporters, exacerbating especially pain at what S-Pulse fans view as the illegitimacy of that second place medal in ‘99. Shimizu is indeed yet to win a league title, and have prevailed in only three of twelve various cup final appearances. An enormous flag unfurled by Iwata supporters in 2006 depicted a giant pair of scales tipped entirely in their favour. The discrepancy in trophy distribution was glaringly obvious, and while the reaction from the opposing end was audible, the statement was ultimately unquestionable. 

The following season the visiting Iwata team bus was greeted at Nihondiara with a level of aggression rarely seen in Japan. The tempest of hostility was audible from the furthest corners of the stadium and resulted in a warning from the league against any repetition. Since then Shimizu fans have taken a more humorous approach. On one occasion they raised a banner emblazoned IWATA, only to be torn open and extended to present the slogan KICK THEIR ASS!  

More recently, inspired by Germany’s Magdeburg supporters, Shimizu fans pointed several vast paper arrows at an oblivious away section, accompanied by a sign reading LOL.

These episodes came as a welcome alternative to the violent scenes which erupted at Nihondaira in 2011. In what may have been a reciprocal effort at humour, an ill advised Iwata banner was aimed at S-Pulse’s new manager Afshin Ghotbi. The resulting scuffles soured the day, and with S-Pulse perversely receiving the greater sanctions, levels of off-the-pitch antagonism reached new heights. 

Statistically Speaking

Since 1993, the Shizuoka Derby has proved one of the most keenly contested in the country. Both teams have enjoyed unbroken spells in the top flight allowing an unparalleled 52 meetings over the last two decades, ten in the cup, the remainder in the league. Of those, Iwata have chalked up 22 victories, seven more than their neighbours. Only five games have finished all square, just two ended goal-less, with the highest scoring derby in 1999 when Iwata put five away to win 5-2. The biggest margin of victory is four goals, at a 5-1 Shimizu league win in 2009, and in an Iwata league cup victory this earlier year. 

The highest gate to watch the Shizuoka face off was 53000 at a brand new Ecopa in 2001. The stadium was initially used by both clubs to stage the derby, but since 2007 Shimizu have opted for the home advantage of Nihondaira over the increased gate receipts. Iwata have persisted with the bigger ground, but in 2013 will stage the league derby at the smaller Yamaha Stadium for the first time in over a decade. 

In recent history, Shimizu claimed a home/away double over Iwata in 2012, the first time in the fixture since 2007 it when it was S-Pulse again who took full honours. Iwata must look back to 2003 for a home/away double, with Shimizu now boasting an unbeaten record at home to their rivals stretching back ten years. 

Real Shizuoka

So what does this all mean ahead of Saturday’s first league derby of 2013, almost 19 years to the day since the first? With every derby day the proverbial cup final, not a great deal, of course. However, current circumstances have Iwata still searching for their first three points over a month into the season. A win for Shimizu could potentially send them to the foot of the table. 

It’s too early in the year to read excessively into league positions, but the longer Júbilo go without a win the greater anxiety will mount on their terraces. Shimizu, who themselves didn’t have a great start to the new season, are showing signs of pulling themselves out of their slump. Recovering from injuries, the team is approaching full strength and will be revelling in the opportunity to increase the pressure on their neighbours. 

Supporters of both sides are aching for a result. As ever, the immense factor of local pride is at stake, but each team is also aiming to remedy their below par league positions. Even this early in the year there is more than enough riding on this game to ensure a tense, edgy but ultimately enthralling new chapter in the Shizuoka Derby’s growing history. You’d be crazy to miss it!

Derby Day in Japan

First published on Afshin Ghotbi's official website and J. Soccer Magazine, April 3rd 2013.

Irrespective of region, culture or history, it’s one of football’s constants. The meeting of two teams sharing a common catchment area can act as the ultimate source of pride or shame. Those 90 minutes alone have the power to overshadow an otherwise positive season, or redeem one otherwise nondescript.

When importing foreign concepts Japan is often happy to tweak and refine, and the derby has proved no different. Attempts to generate interest with billings such as the Orange Derby, Shimizu vs Niigata, two teams sharing a  common colour but 300 miles apart, can be put aside as transparent marketing endeavours. But common to any league is when two or more clubs straddle the same district, the struggle for dominance produces the very best in football drama.

When the J. League began it initially brought with it just one derby. It was however, a triple-header. Yokohama Marinos, Yokohama Flugels and Verdy Kawasaki were all based within a 10 mile radius, vying for both support and Kanagawa prefecture bragging rights. As new teams joined the fledgling league, Japan’s football culture gained a wider spread of geographic rivalries. Founding members Gamba Osaka, Shimizu S-Pulse and JEF United soon had their own local match ups with newcomers Cerezo Osaka, Jubilo Iwata and Kashiwa Reysol respectively. 

The establishment of a second division in 1999, and the realities of relegation, led to some embryonic rivalries being put on ice. The Osaka city and Chiba prefecture face offs have both been on enforced sabbatical at various stages, while conversely, J2 has helped cultivate enmity within the Tohoku derby, contested by Sendai and Yamagata, and Fukuoka derby, between former top flight Avispa Fukuoka and new team Kitakyushu. 

While the invisible hand of promotion and relegation acts as a natural force, a more menacing influence has been felt during the J. League’s short history. Football’s natural order is rarely, if ever, more jarringly disrupted than during relocations or mergers. Between 1998 and 2001 Kanagawa prefecture saw its original trio of derbies forever broken up in those most brutal of circumstances. 

Natural Born Rivalries

At the end of 1998, amidst furious scenes from both sets of supporters, Yokohama Flugels were dissolved into archrivals Marinos. The merger of the clubs, while an unimaginable upheaval for supporters, ultimately proved the genesis of one of the most organic rivalries in the country. Flugels supporters rejected the suggestion from above that they should simply support Marinos, instead choosing to create a phoenix team. Playing at the same stadium and supported by the same people, Yokohama FC can be viewed as a continuation of the Flugels, which the F in Yokohama F. Marinos is purported to represent, and which the Marinos board insisted lived on within their club.

After working up the pyramid, Yokohama FC was in 2007 able to reignite the Yokohama Derby. During an albeit brief spell in J1, the upstarts underlined their arrival by beating F. Marinos 1-0 at Mitsuzawa Stadium, former home of the Flugels. The fairytale was shattered in the return match as F. Marinos trounced FC 8-1. However, with the occasion attracting 54000 spectators, the biggest gate in the derby’s history, the legitimacy of the fixture was without question.

Recent match ups, while restricted to cup meetings, still provide an authentic derby day atmosphere, replete with a mutual sense of superiority. Borne on the one side out of righteous moral struggle, and on the other from a burgeoning collection of silverware, and historical authority.

Tokyo Verdy Kawasaki 1969

Verdy Kawasaki, the third of the original Kanagwa trio, was in 2001 uprooted, moved north to the capital, and renamed Tokyo Verdy 1969. Fans initially flocked to see the team in their new surroundings and a budding derby with FC Tokyo looked set to take root. FC Tokyo had risen from non league to beat Verdy to the J1 punch. Gaining promotion the previous year, they had already managed to carve up the majority of local support. 

After Verdy’s drop to second tier football in 2006 many new followers deserted the team and the capital derby has largely been off the landscape since. Meanwhile back in Kanagawa, Kawasaki Frontale emerged as a natural successor to Verdy, taking up residence in their vacant Todoroki Stadium and forging a rivalry with Yokohama F. Marinos.

Real Shizuoka? 

The longest successively running local face off is contested in the nation’s historical cradle of soccer prowess. Shizuoka prefecture’s players had long been overly represented in both club football and the national team. So, when the J. League was accepting founding member applications, both Shimizu FC and Yamaha Corporation had designs on a prestigious Original Ten spot. That the rechristened Shimizu S-Pulse got the nod over Yamaha’s newly independent Jubilo Iwata is a fact that still continues to wrangle with Iwata fans.

Iwata were accepted into the league in 1994 and each team has enjoyed an uninterrupted spell in the top flight, fostering a healthy rivalry spanning 42 games. A national powerhouse around the turn of the century, Iwata overshadowed Shimizu’s own modest successes, something which was to culminate in 1999. With the season contested over two stages, Iwata had claimed the first and Shimizu the second. At the end of the year Shimizu sat atop the combined league table sixteen points superior to Iwata. Nevertheless, under the rules of the time the two met in the Suntory Championship season climax. All square over two legs, penalty kicks would crown Iwata champions. 

The imbalance in silverware is something which Iwata are eager to remind their neighbours, exacerbating especially Shimizu’s pain at, to their minds, the questionable legitimacy of that near miss in 1999. Reciprocated claims of eminence are the basis of any rivalry, and while recent seasons have consistently seen Shimizu the better supported side, they are yet to trouble Iwata’s trophy haul. Further antagonism was injected in 2011 after an ill advised Iwata banner aimed at S-Pulse’s Iranian-American manager incited violent scenes on the terraces. Perversely, Shimizu received the greater sanctions, adding an additional layer to the tie’s complexity.

The Future

All football fans are familiar with the derby-as-cup-final where anything can and does happen. Urawa Red Diamonds may have the league, league cup, Emperor’s Cup and Asian Champions League all to their name in recent years, but against city rivals, the newer and, as they would happily admit, smaller Omiya Ardija, Urawa have managed a paltry two victories in their last twelve meetings. 

Since 1992 the Original Ten has blossomed to forty, continuing to stiffen the competition for a shrinking number of supporters. J1 ever-presents Kashima and Nagoya currently enjoy big brother relationships with lower league Mito Hollyhock and FC Gifu respectively, but as the years pass by and the balance of power inevitably shifts, who would bet against these family ties one day being strained or broken? 

Marketing departments will by nature attempt to create interest where little exists, but authentic rivalries are rarely the result of anything other than natural evolution. As Inter was born from AC Milan, Yokohama FC sprung from their greatest enemies. Where club origins remain distinct, local cultures generate their own dynamic of antagonism. Cerezo Osaka, not unlike Manchester City, have long claimed to represent their home city more legitimately than their more successful and renowned neighbours.  

Ultimately, the purest process with which to cultivate an explosive derby day atmosphere is the passage of time. Controversial episodes and contentious incidents accumulate gradually over the years to give that crucial needle and edge. As new as the J. League’s derbies may be, many already contain essential back stories of struggle, injustice, pain, and glory. Watching their mythologies and legends expand in the coming decades will be a fascinating journey.