As Typhoon Hagibis prepares to hit Japan, Dai Sport’s fan man in Japan has been looking at the skies and checking the tracking projections. That’s when Harri Morgan hasn’t been watching Wales, finding bars that actually show rugby, and sampling the local lemon-flavoured ale.
I can vividly recall rolling into an internet cafe in Rotorua in New Zealand eight years ago, perhaps to the day, but probably not.
Two days prior, Wales had defeated Ireland in Wellington to keep their World Cup train chugging.
I was following them north to Auckland. I was following Wales to a World Cup semi-final. Prior to visiting the web cafe, I had struck lucky in my quest to push out my flights until after the final. Just in case.
The message of the extended trip on the ensuing Skype call to the girlfriend was received, but the excitement levels of the recipient were inverse to my own.
As the whistle blew at Oita Stadium on Wednesday night, my initial emotion was one of ecstatic relief.
This fixture had long been marked as a cause for concern. Not just because of the ghosts of 2007 – an afternoon in Nantes that is much easier to reconcile these days, given that without it Wales and Warren Gatland may never have crossed paths.
Pre-match concern was predominantly founded in the Flying Fijians’ ability to casually play in a way that is unplayable. The quality of player they possess would render it disrespectful for me to chuck in the ‘banana skin’ cliché in relation to this fixture.
But the opening stanza was evidence enough that the fear was justified, and not just classic Welsh pessimism. Fiji were 10 points to the good in no time, thanks in no small part to the aforementioned unplayable plays.
As a fan it was satisfying to see Wales trust in their plan, not be intimidated by the early scores or the physicality of the opponent, and ultimately wrestle back sufficient control to allow them to come away with a five-point victory that should see them finish top of the pool, so long as they don’t snooker themselves.
They couldn’t and won’t.
The blend of joy and relief soon waned as realisation hit like a Fijian dump tackle (a legal one) that although Wales were flying into the quarters, I was flying home.
Unlike in 2011 the “real world” has its hold on me, and the desk looms on Monday morning.
But as they say it is better to have loved and lost…
It has been a belter of a trip. It would be hard to say that the Rugby World Cup has gripped Japan, the host nation is simply too big for that – there is too much else going on.
Exhibit A – hopping on a packed subway 10 minutes after the hosts had overcome the team who entered the competition as number one, I was met by a silence that meant either the Japanese were taking humble to new levels, or the game wasn’t on the radar of the masses.
A TV that is showing the next match is often as difficult to locate as a rubbish bin, which given the general cleanliness, is shockingly difficult.
A deliberate trip to a fan zone or an ex-pat pub is the best option.
The box in the corner of the local Ramen restaurant is more likely screening a shopping channel, a weird and wonderful game show, or a baseball match.
But not the World Cup, even if it is going on around them.
If I’m right that the tournament hasn’t gripped the host nation, I’d also wager that I’d be right in saying that all visiting fans have been gripped by Japan – both in terms of the rugby experience they have created as well as the wider cultural and culinary offering.
For the most part, the host fans observe a live rugby union fixture much differently to others.
The volume levels are certainly lower. I’m not sure what the Japanese is for “he’s been doing it all day, Sir” but I’m confident that local fans aren’t in the game of yelling at officials or players.
How refreshing.
They consume the game, though, and show respect for good play with applause.
Some of the loudest clapping that I have registered is derived from a player returning to their feet after taking a knock that has caused temporary immobilisation.
Respect is fundamental.
It says a lot about self-control that they are willing to serve a refreshing lemon beverage by the name of strong zero, which registers a dangerous 9% on the booze scale.
Stick to the lager beer.
Ironically, as much as I want to stay to follow Wales’ progress, Typhoon Hagibis can do one.
Much of the past 24 hours have been spent tracking any comments on its progress. Selfishly, these have been to understand the aviation impact rather than the risk to the tournament.
I feel for those who will have the match day experience taken from them. Hours of built-up excitement that will never achieve kinetic status.
It seems too simplistic to say that their ‘should’ be a contingency. You would like to think there were, but none were deemed practicable – either due to the extent of the risk from weather, logistics, or a tournament integrity perspective.
There will no doubt be scrutiny of both decision and process in the days, weeks, months and perhaps years to come.
One would do well to remember the great power of hindsight when casting judgement.
For those on their way out, or lucky enough to be staying on – stay safe in the storm and have a blast surfing the good times that will no doubt follow.
Over and out.