NUFC in Japan Part VIII
In his eighth exclusive story for NUFC.com, from rural Japan, We are Nippon author Simon Moran sits patiently and waits.
I left England in 1992, and, save a few months dossing at me mam’s on the dole, I’ve never returned there to live and work. I’ve lived more of my life ‘away’ than at ‘home’.
In all that time I’ve been through periods of visits back to Whitley Bay where I would write ‘fly home’ in my diary for the Japan to UK leg and ‘fly back to Japan’ for the return leg. Later, I’d write ‘fly home’ in both directions. Now I just note the airport.
Following the Toon, I’ve gone from results delayed by days and received by letters to Post Restante and in local newspapers; telephone-relays between groups of fans; more quickly via expensive international calls, to a world now where everything I need, and lots more I don’t, is available instantly online, 24/7. Added to this are some newcomers, the new kids, and middle-aged, on the block, the “influencers” and commentators on YouTube channels and other social media.
Rack and roll
In October 2020 a lawyer posts a
picture on Twitter of some bread, two bottles of Brown Ale in a wine rack,
and some Champagne named Blanc de Noirs, white from black. Who could be
daft enough to think this portends anything?
September 29th 2021
I tune in to perhaps the most important live stream of a Newcastle tussle
I’ve ever seen. The UK Competition Appeal Tribunal (CAT) holds a virtual
hearing to examine if the Premier League has “prevented, or hindered,
the proposed takeover” of Newcastle by the PIF.
In the hearing, Nick De Marco, perhaps the most important signing under
Ashley, represents Newcastle United.
I sit in my office in Osaka, at a quiet desk, headphones in. I’m joined
by more than 33,000 in 50 countries. It’s not exactly riveting viewing,
but De Marco gets a few shots on target.
A week later, the takeover is complete. A huge crowd gathers on Barrack
Road, and we are reborn. Johnny Blue Hat serenades The Strawberry. There
are #cans everywhere. Sam Fender is hung over on breakfast TV in his
training top the next day.
A beaming Amanda Staveley emerges from Jesmond Dene House. When told
people are
waiting outside at St.James Park in their thousands, she gives an emotional,
apparently heartfelt response: “Aww!” Mehrdad Ghodoussi adds: “Guys,
this is only the start.” He hugs fans.
Have we found our very own Beatrice? Are we to be led to Paradise?
I see this all live, or just moments after it happens.
I am awake again. Not just awake, but yelling at cheering at 4am once
more.
Every game is now both viewable and watchable.
I see Graeme Jones in his best Geordie
to kids waiting for autographs outside the training
ground.
Ashley has gone, Bruce soon follows, then Eddie Howe arrives in a black
van before dawn,
leaving well after dark, but not before stopping to meet fans outside the
training ground.
I see every inch, every step, every pass and feint, shot and dive as we
begin to show fight.
I watch every game live as we beat relegation and climb. I tell anyone who’ll
listen we finish in top four form.
February 26th 2023
I’m one of the organisers of a small conference at the Tokyo
Metropolitan Gymnasium, next to the Japan National Stadium. My hotel is
yards away, part of the complex. What a stadium, left almost empty for a
Covid Olympics. Imagine playing here. Imagine a full crowd.
Your local Family Mart
Post-conference drinks give way to a rush back to my hotel. I stop at
Famima on the way back to buy beer. They also stock Cordon Negro, a cava.
Who could be daft enough to think this could be some kind of sign?
I buy it.
My stream, and the result are poor, though I am cheered by the throng in
Trafalgar Square and the very Japanese tidy-up afterwards.
The cava, my ‘champagne’ remains unopened.
On the way to the station to get my flight home, I call back in to Famima
and they graciously refund me for the cava.
October 5th 2023
Ticketless, I want to be as close as I can. I go into town early, down the
Bigg Market where the Ultras are. I meet a YouTuber.
It’s quiet and I revisit some old haunts. I used to dog sit for my uncle
on St. Thomas’ Terrace. I retread walks with Finbar, his Irish Setter,
around Leazes Park and the lake. I have a pint in the Trent, my old
dog-sitting local. I have another. A young Parisian, oh so French, asks me
to predict the score. 3-0.
I wander to the Strawberry, my other dog-sitting local, where my uncle
used to work. I have not set foot in here for over 30 years. To say it has
changed is an understatement. Where there used to be socialist graffiti on
the walls and a meeting place for a militant student lesbian group, I find
something of a Newcastle United Disneyland. Nothing wrong with that if it
appeals.
Welcome to Newcastle
I leave hurriedly to join the
welcoming committee at the corner of Strawberry Place and
Barrack Road as the Ultras arrive at the ground. They are a loud,
impressive and imposing group. Songs and a few plastic bottles fly back
and forth. There is a hint of menace in the air.
I walk up Leazes Terrace, back round
the park and back into the Trent. The Hamley’s carpet and Tommy Caulker
are long gone; but the juke box is still free. I don’t recall being in
here since 2000, for my uncle’s wake. Then, I reminded one of his
friends of the wedding in Yorkshire, 11 years earlier, and a rushed trip
between service and dinner.
“And we went to the match before the evening do.”
“Aye. Leicester. 2-2. Quinn, Gallacher.”
I settle in the window seat right next to the television.
I’ve been recruiting for my company for over twenty years. I used to
amuse myself by giving the job adverts codes: For the fulltime position,
quote the reference number, HGAL1927, for part-time, MILB1955.
There’s a Japanese saying, 石の上にも三年
ishi no ue ni mo san nen. lit. ‘(even) three
years on a stone’. Even a cold stone will warm if you sit on it for
three years. This translates roughly as, ‘perseverance pays’, or ‘good
things come to those who wait.’
Who could have imagined being able to see a Japanese player not only play
in black and white, but score against Manchester United? Who could have
imagined watching every moment of every game, home and away?
In 2015, our accountant suggested I lease rather than buy a new car. When
choosing a
number plate in Japan, you get to choose four digits.
There are phonetic word games to play with Japanese numbers, as the
numbers can be read as sounds, and interpreted as words.
The dealer suggests 3298 – mi-ni-ku-pa – Mini Cooper.
I ponder 9646 – ku-ro-shi-ro – black (and) white.
1966? No chance.
1967? Don’t want to give too much away.
If it takes 100 years for this particularly cold and hard stone to warm
while I wait, it will not have been a century wasted.
I choose 1927.
A car parked on a stone
Next week, in his final exclusive story for NUFC.com, Simon looks at
the spicy side of visiting Japan.
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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