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their twilight years, was already outdated.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.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
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.
Monday, 22 July 2013
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.
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 20th 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.
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
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 13th
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 6th 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.
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