With Iwata's defeat away to Tosu on Sunday their relegation to J2 was finally confirmed.
This clip just about sums it up. But why? I'm not from Shizuoka, I've only been an S-Pulse fan for 9 years, with all of Jubilo's title winning seasons coming before I ever set foot in a J. League stadium. Why should I give a hoot about Iwata going down? Well, that's just how football works, isn't it? As a Brighton fan in the mid 90s I was well versed on the rivalry with Crystal Palace long before I ever saw the Albion take them on. We had to drag ourselves out of the 4th tier, then onwards beyond the 3rd, before finally we had a shot at them. We lost 5-0. Selhurst Park's announcer congratulated the home fans before the game was even over. Now I truly had reason to hate the bastards.
Not long after that I moved to Japan and adopted Shimizu as my J. Team. Deciding Jubilo Iwata were deadly rivals may have initially been tongue-in-cheek, but I would soon have genuine grounds. This was 2003, and S-Pulse were finishing lower-midtable just as the Yamaha-backed Jubilo added an Emperor's Cup to 2002's J1 title. Not only had fate bestowed on me a distinctly average team, it placed Jubilo just down the road, winning silverware left, right and centre. Within days of purchasing a bright orange JAL-sponsored shirt, I was helpfully informed by a local that it was Jubilo who were Shizuoka's premier club. It did somewhat wrangle, and I cursed my luck it wasn't Shimizu I could expect to see dancing with trophies, but being new to the J. League, I let it go. It was time to concentrate on my new-found team, and after a year cutting my teeth at Nihondaira Stadium I was set for my first derby day. Away, no less. Having no history with the fixture, though greatly fired up, I felt like an observer. Sitting not within the main throng of S-Pulse fans but in the side stand, I got a perfect view when the home end unveiled their opening shot across Shimizu's bow.
Given my experience so far, I thought the fact would pass unmentioned. I thought wrong. Iwata were not that classy. No, they wanted to remind us exactly where our place was. They wanted to rub our faces in it. They were saying, We've Got it ALL, You've Got NOTHING, We OWN You and Don't You Dare Forget It. Bitches. I'd read about the vast banner unveiled at Nihondaira in '99 proclaiming the title Iwata won at Shimizu's expense. Brutally tactless perhaps, but the league was still only six years old. It was no doubt meant merely to congratulate their own team, not to smirk at the sobbing home fans. That one I could forgive. This, and another banner revelling in Shimizu's potential relegation, were different.
Iwata remain to this day arguably second only behind Kashima as the J. League's most successful team, and in '03 their record breaking accomplishments were still fresh in the memory. What I saw at Ecopa that day felt like self satisfied giants sneering at the minnows from atop their throne. As an underdog-trumpeting Englishman my revulsion of Iwata was cemented there and then. Mercifully, over the coming seasons their power waned. A 5-1 demolition of Iwata in 2009 was a night no S-Pulse fan will ever forget. It drew an emphatic line under their previously unquestionable control of Shizuoka. Self confident sky blue supporter displays grew fewer and further between, until ceasing altogether. 2011 saw an unwelcome replacement when a small group of Iwata fans personally insulted Shimizu's new manager. Understandable, if not excusable, crowd disturbances ensued. The rivalry still had teeth, but it wasn't until 2013, when Jubilo were struggling to stay in J1, that Shimizu supporters could finally have their payback.
Such a joyous display shocked many Iwata fans, although presumably not those who verbally abused the Shimizu team and staff upon arrival. However, large numbers of the home crowd had been following their team only since after the glory days had faded. For those, the vitriol directed at their club was shocking, but it was merely a long awaited revenge, impeccably executed. Mortified at the outpouring of carivalesque delight at their host's hardships, Shimizu's top brass apologised to their Iwata counterparts by dishing out bans to large number of their own supporters. Draconian controls on banners and flags at all future games followed. This mirrored the over reaction of Iwata's management to that one lone slanderous banner in 2011. With both clubs now controlling how fans express themselves, and wielding bans for any who step out of line, the Shizuoka Derby is unlikely to ever match the fiery atmospheres of recent years. More probable is the tie's carefully controlled evolution into a family fun day, where displays of passion likely to cause hurt feelings will no longer be a concern. For a rivalry which had established itself as one of Asia's finest, this is a tragedy.
What will become of this fantastic fixture remains to be seen, but for now we can celebrate the last twenty years of Jubilo Iwata versus Shimizu S-Pulse. In two short decades the tie grew from nothing to containing all the requisite ingredients of an enthralling derby. The current chapter came to a close with Iwata's relegation, but with it Shimizu fans finally claimed their retribution. By this point I had long since ditched my role of spectator looking in, very much being a part of the cavorting orange masses rejoicing in Iwata's downfall. When their fate was sealed the following fixture, I remembered that day Jubilo made an enemy of me, and smiled. It can take years, but you really do reap what you sow. Until Iwata return to the top flight and beat us once more, that smile won't fade. Will I miss the derby? No. Each season Iwata spend in J2 is simply more ammunition for Shimizu. Inevitably they'll be back one day. Inevitably they'll someday be the better team again and, offensively patronising supporter controls notwithstanding, they'll delight in rubbing our noses in it. That's football, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Until then, there's only one team in Shizuoka, and it certainly ain't Jubilo Iwata.