The Taj Ultimate Tournament

I've been meaning to write about the Taj Ultimate Tournament for nearly 2 weeks now, but things are getting pretty crazy round here and I just haven't had the time. It's scary - I'm counting the time till my departure in days now, rather than weeks and months. Where did all the time go? Man, there's so much I need to fit in before I leave... and so much I have to write about on the blog...

Anyway, ultimate. I've been a fan of the sport since I was at university, and when I came to Fukui I joined up with a couple of like-minded people to play every weekend at a park in the city. A few months ago we heard about the Taj Ultimate Tournament, and decided to enter; with me as captain. Most of the people on the team had never played ultimate before coming to Japan, and hardly any of them had played in a tournament before, so it was going to be an interesting experience...

On the first day I was full of confidence for the team - I was amazed at how hard everyone had practiced in the weeks leading up to the event, and since we were promised that we'd be ranked according to experience, I had high expectations. We looked good too - everyone had bought one of the infamous "Baka Inaka" t-shirts, and they were causing a bit of a fashion sensation down in the fields of Hyogo. Everything was going well.

Then we were thrashed in the first game. I couldn't understand it - weren't we supposed to be playing against teams of similar ability, ie not experienced? I asked one of the staff, and he told me that each group was arranged with one team of low experience, two teams of middling experience and one team of high experience - and we'd just played the highly experienced team. Suddenly the loss didn't seem so bad, but it also meant we had another two tough matches to play just to get through the group. So much for the easy qualification I had in mind at the start.

The next three matches were heart-breaking - in all of them we started off leading before getting bogged down into a long, drawn out point which sapped our energy, leading to a loss in the dying minutes. One of the points went on for 15 minutes, which is unheard of - I mean, the matches are only 30 minutes long. I was impressed with the way the team was playing - they were using all the techniques that Mac (our wonderful coach) had been teaching them in practice, but try as we may, victory lay beyond our grasp. The fourth match of the weekend was the most devastating - after finishing bottom of our group after the first three matches, we were playing for a possible 16th place in the bottom division. It was a match we should have won - and we came tantalisingly close. Afterwards I could barely pick myself up to start the "cheer" for the other team (we sang "Country Road" to them with modified lyrics, they danced for us, it was special). Add in the fact that I'd watched England lose to Portugal on penalties in the World Cup the night before, and you can imagine that I wasn't feeling that sprightly.

It all came down to the last game - we were just playing for pride now. I was determined to go out with a win. Playing in the tournament had been fun, but we had to win just one game - we just had to. Luckily, we did. Everyone came through and we scored our first victory in the fizzling embers of the weekend, and by a considerable margin too. With that one win, it genuinely felt like we'd won the whole tournament, and I couldn't be happier. Finally, a well-deserved win - and anyone who says the other team were pissed is lying.

Final position: 18th out of 20 (I think, might have been 19th though)

Big thanks to Mac for being an ultimate-playing genius (respect), and a huge thank you to everyone who played on the team - you were all fantastic! I had a really great time, and I really appreciate the fact that you all took time out to come - it was a brilliant weekend. I love you guys! 

The Fukui Phoenix. [Top row, l to r] Mitsuji, Fong, Ryan, Jesse, Steph, Hudson, Matt, Mac, Michelle [Middle row] Flick, Angela, Kat, Sarah [Lying] Me (Lewis) and James.

Look at me - I'm bloody exhausted, and it's only the first game. I blame the guy I was marking and his crazy-long sprinting legs.

For the second game we were playing against another team in red, so the other team's captain and I flipped to see who would change shirts. Unfortunately, I lost the toss and we had to change into these beige shirts - which Hudson "Nice Guy" Hamilton soon befouled with another man's blood. Who said ultimate was non-contact?

Here I am! Check my awesome baldness.

Mitsuji shelters from the rain. It rained pretty much all day on Saturday, which made throwing the disc pretty difficult - as I discovered during a crucial throw when the disc slipped out of my hand and landed behind me. Not my proudest moment.

Mac defends as players rush either side. I think this shot gives you a good idea of what playing ultimate feels like - sprinting from one end of the field to the other, desperately trying to shake off your marker.

Hudson looks for space. Look at the determination in his eyes - the boy's a killer for sure.

Angela in action.

My first baseball game!

As you all know, baseball is the number one sport in Japan, and on Tuesday I finally went to my first baseball game: Hanshin Tigers vs. Hiroshima Carps at Undo Koen. Neither of these teams usually play in Fukui (the Tigers are based in Osaka), but once in a while the Japanese Pro Baseball Association organises regional tours, where the big teams visit a few of the more out-of-the-way places in Japan. It's a bit like Arsenal and Manchester United going to play in Scarborough.

I was expecting a pretty ramshackle stadium, but Undo Koen in Fukui city is actually a really nice venue - the stadium is beautifully maintained, and the distant mountains peaking over the stands make for a really nice view. The fans were what really made an impression though - Hanshin fans have a reputation for being some of the most enthusiastic and loud baseball fans in Japan, and I can see why. It seemed like they had a cheer prepared for practically every eventuality in the game, and one cheer would seemlessly lead into another as the brass band in the outfield kept time. Add in the fact that every fan had two club-shaped "noise makers" which they banged together in time with the drums, and you can imagine how loud it was!

We assumed that watching baseball would be much like watching cricket - so we packed plenty of booze and snacks in preparation. The first half was pretty dull I must admit, but it picked up a little after Hiroshima scored in the 5th inning, followed by a home run by Hanshin which sent their crazy fans even crazier. The next few innings seemed to get better and better, but I think that was mostly because I was getting drunker and drunker. Hanshin scored another homer, which sent the game into extra innings. By the 12th inning I was desperately willing it to end, mostly because I'd ran out of beer, but at the same time I didn't want to leave until it was all over. Disappointingly, it ended in a 2-2 draw

Having said that, it was a fantastic night out, and it was a really interesting way to spend an evening, if only to see all the mad crazy cheering. But would I go again? Probably not - give me a day watching the cricket with a bottle of Pimms and a picnic basket any day. God Save the Queen etc etc... [Voice trails away as he mumbles into his whisky and falls off chair] 

With the mountains in the distance it was almost romantic. Or it would have been if it wasn't for the drunk bloke behind me flicking ash onto my shoulder.

Look at all those Hanshin Tigers fans! They sure do love their baseball, yes siree.

These guys came out every now and then to do a spot of gardening. Or something. Gardening in helmets.

Then suddenly, as if from nowhere, everyone produced balloons just before the 7th inning. They all sang a Hanshin Tigers song and then...

Wahey! Balloons! Wooooo! Yay!

You heard.

Think of them as floaty horses...

Did anyone get that Simpsons reference? There's a lollipop for the first person to tell me where it's from in the comment box... Ooooh, revel in the nerdiness! Soak it up people, soak it up!

Anyway, boat racing. Flick and I stopped off at the Mikuni Boat Race on Sunday on our way back from a spot of camping on the beach. We were camping with Tilly and Laura, and Tilly had heard about the boat race from Joe, who lives nearby. Initially I imagined it as some sort of yacht regatta, but then I found out it was in the middle of the town. Perhaps remote-controlled power boats in the park...?

I was way off. The Boat Race was actually powerboat racing conducted on an enormous artificial lake, overlooked by a gigantic Sony TV which relayed the action to spectators.How have I not heard of this before? Two years in Fukui and no-one made any mention of powerboat racing conducted on an enormous articficial lake overlooked by a gigantic Sony TV. Still, it's good to know there are still things left to discover... Who knows what I'll discover tomorrow? It's like an episode of Tiny Toons or something. 

Anyway, we paid our money to get in, and it quickly became apparent that the main reason for the racing was in fact gambling: a massive TV screen scrolled through betting statistics on the wall above our heads, and banks of vending machines provided punters with gambling slips (well, it wouldn't be Japan without vending machines, would it?). Despite all the high-tech wizardry though, there was the tangible feel of a fleapit betting shop back in England - maybe it was the rows and rows of crumbly old men with despair etched onto their faces, mixed with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and body odour.

It's strange - I was under the impression that gambling for money was illegal in Japan. That's why in pachinko parlours they don't give you money if you win, you just exchange your silver balls for prizes like cuddly toys. To get round the rule, the customers then take their prizes to a booth just outside the parlour, where they exchange them for money. Then presumably the prizes end up back where they were, ready to be won again in the pachinko version of the circle of life. However, according to the teacher I've just asked, it's legal to gamble on certain things, such as horse racing, boat racing and bike racing - yes apparently in Fukui city there's a bike track where you can go to bet on the riders. In my head I'm imagining people racing those granny bikes with the baskets that everyone has, but I suspect he probably meant motorbikes. You never know though...

Despite the despairing, crumbly old men the powerboat racing was pretty cool - the boats pick up a fair bit of speed and it's entertaining to see the "jockeys" lean over and power slide round corners. That's about all they do though - the "track" is just one big oval, and after a while it gets pretty boring watching the same boats go round and round in circles, even if the races only last about 10 minutes or so. I can see why they need the allure of gambling to keep it interesting...

I wonder if you could hook that TV up to an Xbox? Imagine playing Halo 2 on that...

I wonder if they give the boats bizarre names, just like they do with horses? If I raced a boat I think I might call it "Mr. Biscuit", it has a nice ring to it. Anyone else got ideas for boat names?

Here you can see just how enormous the TV screen on the other side of the lake was. I wonder how much it cost?

This is the main viewing gallery, where rows and rows of chain smoking men sat nervously clutching their betting receipts. It was pretty horrible - there were cigarette butts all over the floor and the guy behind us had kindly decided to take his shoes and socks off in order to display his decidedly grubby-looking feet (see the bottom left of the photo). It was eerily quiet for a betting hall though - everyone seemed to be lost in their own reverie.

Here's a view from the outside. I was surprised how big it was - the car park alone was huge, and there's another one round the other side. The screen on the right is either to stop spray from the boats splashing onto cars or to deflect the noise, I couldn't work out which.

I'd say that for the majority of the spectators it was all about the gambling - to the extent that some people weren't even watching the live race at all. This TV gallery was set up facing away from the lake - punters watch the race on the right and betting statistics are on the left. You can't see it from this picture, but there's a car park on the other side of the window.

A big day for yoghurt

Well, I finally did it: after a year and a half of living in Japan I finally went to see a sumo tournament.

I'm absolutely nuts about sumo - I only got into it when I came to Japan, but I was hooked as soon as I saw my first tournament on TV. I think part of the reason I got into it so quickly was because there was absolutely nothing else to watch, since most Japanese TV shows are utterly abysmal.

Speaking of awful TV, when I first arrived I couldn't understand anything they were saying on those crazy Japanese TV shows, but now that I've picked up a bit of Japanese I can understand a good portion of what's going on - which has actually reduced the entertainment value. Before I could at least try and guess what was going on in the chat shows, and I'd spend hours fascinatedly trying to figure out what the hell all the shouting was about. Now I know what it's about and I can't understand why they bother shouting it. About 90 per cent of Japanese shows are either about food, or about intensely annoying minor celebrities playing endlessly protracted 2-hour game shows, or a combination of the two. They usually go something like this:

Host: "Everyone, look at this fish!"

Talent #1: "Looks delicious!"

Talent #2: "Yes, looks delicious!"

Host: "It's actually deadly poisonous puffer fish!"

Talent #1: "You lie!"

Talent #2: "Looks delicious!"

Host: "Now the first person to eat it without dying wins an alarm clock!"

Actually, that was a lot more interesting than the actual TV shows. In fact I'd probably watch more Japanese TV if all the shows were like that. But I digress.

Anyway, I got into sumo because I could easily understand what was going on, and there was nothing else on telly. I started doing a bit of research on it and before I knew it I knew more about sumo than most of the Japanese teachers in my office. (For example, did you know that, among other things, there's a squid buried in the middle of a sumo ring? Presumably it's dead. Why you'd want to know that I've no idea.)

Seeing sumo live was actually even more exciting than I thought it would be - in fact, everyone I went with, even the ones who weren't into sumo at all, said they were surprised by how exciting it was. The actual matches only last about 30 seconds, but there's hundreds of matches each day of the tournament so you never get bored. It's the perfect sport for people with short attention spans - it's all over before your attention has time to wander.

The highlight of the day was the match between Kotooshu - the "David Beckham of sumo" - and the huge 175kg Iwakiyama. We'd all taken "David" to our hearts, especially since he was struggling with a knee injury and desperately needed a win. Also, I think the girls were supporting him because he's a 203 cm tall Bulgarian with muscles like tree trunks. Initially "David" was pushed to the edge of the ring by the bulk of Iwakiyama, but some crafty sidestepping let him spin the 'yama like a top and dump him to the ground - you had to be there to hear the cheer that went up.

I'll think I'll bring a Bulgarian flag next time. And a pot of yoghurt of course (see below).

Saturday, 18th March: Day 7 of the Osaka Spring Sumo Tournament.

The Osaka Municipal Gymnasium was packed out for the tournament. The sumo goes on all day, every day, for 15 days in a row, but most people only come to watch the top division matches at the end of each day. The atmosphere was just amazing.

Asashoryu - the current No.1 in sumo - performs the yokozuna ring-entering ceremony.

Here's the ring-entering ceremony for the top sumo division. The wrestler just about to step up onto the ring is Roho - he performed absolutely terribly in the tournament, but he made up for it by wearing a ring-entering costume with flashing lights. Classy.

Here's the David Beckham of sumo himself, Kotooshu. Since he's from Bulgaria the Japanese company Meiji (makers of "Bulgaria" yoghurt) have taken it upon themselves to sponsor him - you can see their logo on the front of his costume. The advertising definitely works - when he won I ran out and bought a Bulgaria yoghurt in celebration.

Sports are not my friend

I played in a football tournament at the weekend. Yes, you read that correctly, I played in a football tournament. It was the eastern leg of the Assistant Language Teachers Japan tournament - so there were teams from around 24 prefectures. And what's more, the Fukui team came fifth, thanks in part to some sterling right back defending from yours truly. We made it through to the knockout stages, but we were eventually beaten by the champions, who looked like professionals. Well, when I say they looked like professionals I mean they'd bothered to get some T-shirts with their names on printed up.

Then on Wednesday I took part in the school marathon. It wasn't quite a marathon (thank God), but it was still 10 kilometres, and it nearly killed me. Now I have blisters the size of golf balls and a comedy limp. I'm meant to be taking part in an Ultimate demonstration as part of "Health and Recreation Day" on Monday, but now its likely to be more of a falling over demonstration. I'm loving these brilliant national holidays by the way - it seems like the Japanese will make up any excuse for a day off - a few weeks ago it was "Respect for the Aged Day" and before that we had a day off for the "Autumnal Equinox". Apparently that last one has some sort of religious significance, but when I called up my supervisor to ask what it was she didn't have a clue.

Anyway, I have to go and teach kids about poetry, so I'll see you later, Lew.

The non-stop football and drinking was too much for some...