BARRY WRITES... This is another piece which was previously only available via J. Soccer Magazine. I blogged about the cup final back then of course, but that day is now a little bit of S-Pulse history. Nearly eight years old, it's time to publish this here for posterity.
It comes with a few pictures not seen at the time, and breaks down another typically manic 24 hours following that beautiful team in orange.
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Saturday November 3rd 2012
7:30am - An early alarm
call as hey, we have a cup final! My third one in four years following S-Pulse.
Today is the Nabisco Cup. We’re bound to win one sooner or later.
Trophy on display at Nihondaira
8:37am - Standing room
only as the bullet train leaves Shizuoka for the capital packed with orange
clad fans.
9:45am - My handmade League Cup trophy garners a lot of love on the Yamanote Line.
Was as fiddly as it looks!
10:10am - Arrival at
Sendagaya. Quick diversion to a 7/11 to grab a few cans, then onto the ground.
My hardy crew increases steadily in number and the line edges towards the
turnstiles.
The queue
The grand old stadium, since redeveloped
Finally at the gates!
10:40am - Inside the
cramped confines of the Olympic stadium we locate our buddies down the front. They’d
selflessly arrived hours earlier to secure seats. Emotions swing between
bullish arrogance and teeth-chattering anxiety with alarming regularity.
11:15am - Spirits are
high and the beer is flowing. Including one straight down the drain I knock over
moments after purchase.
11:34am - The
supporters’ prematch warm up is in full swing behind the stand. A moshpit
twenty deep spontaneously erupts. Fans crowd surf to the raucous samba
band.
La la lalala laaaa Okoku Shimizuuuu!
12:05pm - All back out
to the sunbathed home end for the player warm ups, and my nerves reach fever
pitch. Time for a lager to take the edge off.
Maybe my favourite S-Pulse photo
Shiny, happy people
Where's the wally?
1:00pm - The players are
out, the official choreography turns the camera-facing stand into wall of
colour and… Hang on, most of it’s burgundy! Kashima’s colours! Fix!
Corruption!! J Soccer editor Alan Gibson drops by to dispense Nabisco treats
and is subjected to choreography related rantings.
1:05pm - No time for
conspiracy theories. The game has started. There’s sambaing to be done and a
cup to be won.
1:50pm - Half time. No
goals. Stinky, overcrowded toilets in a historic but antiquated venue. Quick
half time Kirin and back out into the sunshine.
2:35pm - Disaster!
Penalty for Kashima! It’s despatched right in front of us. 15 minutes to go and
it’s suddenly not looking quite so bright. After losing finals in 2008 and
2011, dark thoughts descend.
2:42pm - Penalty! This
one to us! For what? Who cares! Omae converts, which means a goal! To us! Game
on!
2:56pm - The match
doesn’t produce a winner. At full time we’re all square. Making it to 90
minutes undefeated is a first in my three cup finals. I suddenly have a good
feeling.
3:05pm - Three minutes
into extra time and good feelings dissipate rapidly. 2-1 to Kashima and we have
it all to do.
3:32pm - The full time
whistle goes. There was no breathtaking climax, no last gasp equaliser. We
peter out, the minutes tick away and then it’s all over. Our orange heroes dot
the pitch, shattered and dejected. Determined to have no recollection of
Kashima’s joyous cavorting, my earphones are in, volume up, head in hands.
When will I see S-Pulse mount those steps?
3:38pm - Disturbed from
morose reverie for an important post match meeting. “What’s the plan? Going
home?” “Yeah. You?” “Me too.” Realising being alone would be the worst thing to
be right now, “Actually, maybe we should have a quick beer somewhere.”
4:15pm - A sombre procession through the streets
to a Shibuya hostelry. It turns out cheaper to have an all-you-can-drink course.
Initial exchanges are strained as everyone wonders if this was really such a
good idea.
4:32pm - Course it was!
Keep those Asahis coming, barman!
6:30pm - Time is up. Asked
politely to leave. The collective mental state is immeasurably improved on two
hours previous. What cup final?
7:40 pm - Karaoke. We Are The Champions conspicuous by its
absence, but mild nudity and songs about penises raise spirits considerably.
11:40pm - Whoops. The
last bullet train to Shizuoka went two hours ago. Over monjayaki and beers talk turns
to the remaining season. Of course we
can still win the league. Of course
we’ll be back on New Year’s Day for the Emperor’s Cup final.
00:21am - The Tokyo
dwellers make their way home, the group reduced to two as we train it from
Shinjuku to Tokyo. If (largely impaired) memory serves, there’s an internet
café around here somewhere…
01:46am - Finally
located. The only remaining cubicles have no computers, let alone internet. Remove
shoes. Crawl in. Set alarm. Pass out.
5:55am - Awake face
down, a defeated figure of a man, S-Pulse flag acting as a woefully inadequate
duvet. Head sore, handmade trophy a mess of bent cardboard and broken foil.
Stagger out into the cold Tokyo morning. Friend promptly vomits on the
pavement.
6:33am - Bullet train to
Shizuoka. Still utterly devastated and tormented by thoughts of what might have
been, but a quick chat confirms what I know deep down: another cup final loss may hurt
like hell, but the day was a belter from start to finish.
7:52am - Wake up as Mt.
Fuji welcomes us home. Arrive in Shizuoka bedraggled and exhausted, hauling a scuffed,
oversized orange flag behind me. The need for proper rest is unbearable.
7:57am - “See you up Nihondaira
Wednesday?” Bloody right.
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It's now 2020 - where's the time gone!?
We continue to fight the good fight, and I know we'll get our day in the sun again soon. Next time we won't have to make do with just hand-made trophies, either.
FORZA S-PULSE!!
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