In April 2007, we move to a traditional farmhouse we’ve renovated in a small village in the remote Kyoto countryside. The village has been here since the Kamakura period
(1185–1333), and I am the first foreigner ever to live here.

There is neither pub nor shop within walking distance, only the other 30-odd houses in the village, the fields and mountains. The nearest station is a 15-minute drive away. However, we are fully connected, and I get fibre optic for the first time.

The satellite dish has not yet been set up, nor wired in, so I attach it to a sawhorse the joiners left in the garden, point it in what I hope is the right direction, and hope the signal will clear the mountains. I run a cable over the veranda, through the sliding windows. Only two feet above ground, there is no chance of a fall.

The signal is fine, but I don’t see a win for the rest of the season as it all peters out into mid-table mediocrity.

I have to join in with village chores, such as grass-cutting and clearing the roads and drains. All the men from village gather for this on a hot day, and wind down with beer and bento (lunchboxes) afterwards. I’m toasted by all as a welcome newcomer and accept far too much sake. Staggering home, I sleep face down on our lovely new wooden floor.

The frogs begin to croak, the light changes and the fields are prepared for rice planting. June brings hotaru (fireflies), July dragonflies and in summer, as we cower from the heat, we are warned of poisonous snakes in the undergrowth.

Sam Allardyce is already manager when Mike Ashley buys the club in June. I watch the first game of the season on the kitchen table via a local live stream to my Mac. It’s a great broadcast, and not a penny goes to Rupert Murdoch.

Fleeting beauty

Ashley brings a wave of optimism, is seen in the stands drinking pints with the fans,
promising transparency and a bright future. For a moment, just a moment, it feels like the club is on the cusp of something great. This proves to be as fleeting as the beauty of cherry blossom in spring and fireflies in summer.

Harvest time

As autumn comes the sun lowers, the swallows fly higher in pursuit of insect prey, then
depart for warmer climes as the rice harvest begins. All things start to turn yellow and red; brown and gold.

There are two shrines in the village, and one temple. The resident priest has three daughters, themselves all ordained. They play a concert in the temple at the autumn harvest moon festival, also celebrated with rice cakes, moon viewing and images of rabbits. The priest plays the shakuhachi (Japanese bamboo flute,) two of the daughters, resplendent in kimono, play the koto, (Japanese zither or harp).

The majority of Japanese people will never get to see this, let alone have it on their doorstep. I wonder at my luck, having found such beauty and serenity here in the countryside. I check my watch and sneak away. The match starts soon.

Beauty gives way to mundanity. It’s just my luck; practically every game is viewable, but
very few are watchable, and certainly not at 4am for weekday matches.

Winter arrives and the rising sun of the winter solstice celebrated, now it will begin to rise, warming the earth.

New Year Hopes and Dreams

Omisoka, New Year’s Eve, sees the ringing of the temple bell 108 times, once for each
worldly desire, and Shogatsu, New Year’s Day, cards, gifts of money, prayers and charms predicting the fortunes of 2008.

Allardyce is sacked and Keegan comes for the third time. I’ve witnessed both the previous comings, and they both ended in tears.

Snowy winter

February brings snow twenty centimetres’ deep. Woodpeckers tap at the trees and owls call at night.

Keegan makes no immediate impact other than on the hairs on the back of the necks of a few and we struggle to win games until the uguisu, or warbler, calling loudly from the woods and bamboo groves, heralds spring. We stumble as the swallows return in April.

By the setting of the koinobori, carp streamers, a sign of strength and courage as carp swim strongly up waterfalls celebrating kodomonohi (Children’s Day, formerly Boy’s festival) the season ends and we finish safe with hope of a rebuild.

In mid-August, we celebrate Obon. People return to their family home, clean the family
graves and household altars which are in turn revisited by the souls of the departed.
A little later is jizobon, and we gather by the jizo-san, or Jizo Bodhisattva, small statues
regarded guardian deities of children.

The village children rotate a large set of juzu beads, touching one to their forehead for luck. We play games, eat sweets, scoop goldfish and I am tasked with providing some
entertainment. We play blow football.

Prayers for children

I take some luck down the hill from the temple to watch a spirited Spiderman earn a draw away.

In September, Keegan once more throws a tantrum and takes flight for third time, citing
interference in transfer decisions, a precursor of much worse to follow. At home I’ve never been more connected, but the disconnect between the club and fans begins to widen forebodingly.

We become a comedy club with JFK, expletives all round and players seemingly playing for themselves or to avoid injury.

Despite the odd blip of happiness. We enter a cycle of relegation and promotion, our own
kind of limbo, as the ambition is to only exist, not to thrive.

Analogue terrestrial television broadcasts in Japan end on July 24, 2011. Our TV no longer
works so we throw it away and don’t replace it. Having yearned for full connection, I no
longer bother. Having yearned for so long for all the games in my lap, now I have them, I slip into a fug; I follow the results and but would rather pull my own teeth out than get up at 4am for more lack-lustre disappointment.

We need to exit limbo, climb through purgatory and find our very own Beatrice to lead us to paradise.

Simon's blog is here: www.moranactually.com 

Simon's book "We Are Nippon" a great guide to visiting Japan, drinking beer and watching
football, is available for £8.99 with free P&P (UK and Japan) and £1.50 donations each to the Newcastle West End Foodbank and Wor Flags. Also available worldwide. 

Order here: https://tinyurl.com/wearenippon

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