http://www.the-rising-sun-news.com/news/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2585
Doha will never look the same again.
At least in the minds of those who follow the Samurai Blue, this has always been viewed as the land where dreams go to die. In the annals of sports history, there are few incidents that carry the same agonizing resonance for fans that the Agony at Doha has for the Japanese. Perhaps Maradona's "Hand of God" goal, for Britons, or maybe the sale of Babe Ruth to New York, for baseball fans in the US town of Boston, carry the same degree of historic tragedy and fateful doom. But you can definitely count the number of such historic milestones on a single hand. For eighteen long years, the memory of the blue-shirted players crumpled on the pitch, in tears of self-loathing, has gnawed at the soul of football fans in Japan. It is not just hyperbole to suggest that the ghost of October 28, 1993 in Doha was more than could be exorcised by a simple victory in a football match. Only a true spiritual triumph would drive out the demons of self-doubt and self-pity that the Samurai Blue have carried around with them for the past two decades.
The events of Saturday evening delivered that spiritual victory. Fans in the rest of Asia - particularly in Korea and Australia - will have a hard time understanding how important this tournament has been, not just for a football team, but for the very soul of a nation. While their desire to win a football trophy must be honoured, and the efforts made by their players respected, they can barely imagine how truly precious this moment is for the Samurai Blue, and how they, too, have contributed to the redemption of a footballing nation.
There can be no question that this tournament is special for its spiritual qualities, and not simply for the fact that eleven men in blue managed to outplay an opposing group of individuals clad in red, or green-and-gold. Chroniclers of the Japan National team have hailed the achivements of Japan's 2004 Asian Cup-winning team for its ability to overcome a great deal of diversity to win the cup for a third time. But even though that description is accurate - Zico Japan did indeed face tremendous obstacles of mental and emotional pressure, as well as adversity on the pitch, before they could raise the trophy - the truth is that no other team at China 2004 really deserved to be victorious.
The same cannot be said about Qatar 2011. On the contrary, this tournament had at least three teams that were entirely worthy of being crowned Asian Champions. The Koreans and the Australians were both magnificent in their pursuit of the same prize. Only on rare occasions has Japan faced teams that expressed such a burning desire for victory, such a well-drilled athleticism and technical flair, and such a competitive fire as what we saw from the Koreans and the Australians over the past week. The quality and dignity of our opponents . . . . well, perhaps with the lone exception of one recalcitrant Scottish sectarian . . . . has made this triumph all the more precious. And while fans of the Samurai Blue have every right to celebrate their victory, it would be remiss not to offer a tip of the hat to our rivals, who provided the stone and the fire on which to sharpen our Samurai steel.
Japan had to overcome tremendous adversity to win this trophy. There was the lack of preparation time, as coach Zacheroni took over just months before the tournament, and incompetent management of fixtures by the JFA prevented him from lining up international clashes during the FIFA dates in December. Then there were the injuries to Yuji Nakazawa, and then to Marcus Tulio Tanaka, and to Yuzo Kurihara, and to Takayuki Morimoto, and to Yuichi Komano. Even after the tournament started Japan's horrific luck with injuries continued - first Tomoaki Makino had to pull out of the squad . . . . then Daisuke Matsui, then Shinji Kagawa, who seemed to be on his way to tournament MVP honours. And that was only the physical aspect. The mental and emotional adversity - the knowledge that Japan would never get a break from AFC officiating, even in the final (when three Australian hand-balls were all ignored by the Uzbek referee) - surely took its toll. But even when goals were disallowed for phantom offsides, even when players were sent off for nonexistent offences, even when they were reduced to ten men and a goal behind against the tournament hosts, the Samurai Blue never flinched. And after all the adversity that they had faced up to that point, to stare down and outlast two magnificent rivals like Korea and Australia . . . this truly is a sign that Japan's self-doubts, its years of wallowing in romantic failure and tragic glory, have at last been banished to the outer darkness, letting the glorious light of hope and triumphant confidence cast its healing rays across the Land of the Rising Sun.
. . . . .
Before readers start to gag at the rhetoric, or accuse this writer of patronizing flattery, there is ONE thing that I have to get off my chest:
Tim Cahill is the most infuriating, contemptable, diving, shamming, hand-balling, kneecapping, eye-scratching, grass-rolling, whining, cheating son of a she-devil in all of Asia. DAMN, I wish Japan had a striker like that!
As infuriating as the Australian ace's play can be, at times, he was surely the most frighteningly competitive player Japan faced over the past three weeks. Unfortunately, I only had a chance to see three of Australia's matches in this tournament, but based on what I did see, the selection of Keisuke Honda as player of the tournament was a terrible injustice. Cahill was a far more impressive player in every dimension of the game. If Japan had a player who deserved the honour it would have been Yuto Nagatomo, who seems to have at least a hint of the reckless, unforgiving competitive intensity that Cahill showed. It was truly fitting that Nagatomo was the player who broke a nail-biting deadlock after 110 minutes of enthralling and amazing, yet somehow scoreless football, slashing around the right flank to deliver a letter-perfect cross for Tadanari Lee, who had just stepped onto the pitch a few moments before, to volley home with a thunderous roundhouse kick. Lee is another youngster who plays with the fire and the flair of a true samurai. The ethnic-Korean clowner from the asphalt jungles of Tokyo has not only the competitiveness, but also the cheeky and self-confident attitude needed to become a true international star. Perhaps if Cahill can be convinced to join the Japan coaching staff, once he hangs up his cleats, and tutor Tadanari one-on-one for a few years . . . .
But those thoughts, and others relating to success on a fully international stage, can wait for a future day. There is no need to spoil this joyous moment by dissecting the lingering weaknesses of certain players, who held Japan back in this tournament, or to wrinkle our brows in contemplation of how the team can still be improved and reorganized. Those discussions have their time and place - and that time is not now. For this one special weekend, let us just lie back and bask in the sense of retribution and release that our valiant samurai provided on this Day of Destiny in Doha. At long, long last the demons of Doha 1993 have been driven out......
and Japanese football will never be the same.
) then surely would have got the plaudits. His hold up work for us has been of a very high calibre and something we have been missing. Timmy however for me actually had a quite poor tournament by his impressive standards.
