Tokyo (JAPAN)

At 10:15 a.m. I left the house and began walking toward Tokyo Maritime University’s campus (東京海洋大学), which is located in 5-Chome Shinagawa (5丁目北品川), for a soccer match. Kick-off was at 12:00, and the result would determine whether or not our team would progress in this pre-season tournament. Obviously, I was itching to play and win the game for the team (a confidence I cannot shake), but I knew it was not to be. Nevertheless, I still fervently support the team in their endeavors - not that it was particularly difficult today given that I could actually walk to the match, which is remarkable when one considers the size of Tokyo.

I coordinated my route to the campus so that I passed through the 1950s-looking part of Tokyo in Old Shinagawa. I actually made a similar tour last weekend with Kumagai-san when we toured Tokyo Harbor last weekend. The T.Y. Harbor Brewing Co., along with two (of the many) canals crisscrossing this part of Tokyo, can be seen in the picture to the left.

With the temperature nestling comfortably at 20C (70 degrees Fahrenheit) and hardly a cloud in the sky, this was a perfect day to be outdoors. In truth, this is the kind of early-Summer weather I have been looking forward to, rather than the dreary rain that plagued the month of May.

At the field, I abandoned the comfort of the bench and the shade of the team tent, preferring to sit out on the grass while cheering on the team. Despite a horror-show of refereeing (I doubt home field advantage could have been any more obvious), our team came from one goal down to tie the match, 1-1. Unfortunately, we could not add to that tally, and were eliminated from the tournament – despite never losing a match. If I could have been given a 15 minute run-out I would surely have put us through to the next round. Oh well, in the next life.

After being knocked out of the tournament, team moral was fairly low. I went around picking up player’s spirits, saying things like, “気にするな” (meaning “don’t mind”) and offering advice on things that can be improved. This was actually a lot more effective than I was anticipating: whereas Americans want to be left alone after a loss, Japanese are more inclined to come together as one. Further, they respond well to positive input.

Something else worth noting, and this is something I have witnessed on a variety of occasions, is a tendency for Japanese men to cry. I have always been startled by such occurrences because in Western culture crying is a definite sign of weakness. Conversely, in Japan, when a man sheds tears after trying (and failing) it does not carry any negative connotations. This is not to imply that I have seen “weak” men crying because it is has been the opposite – the ones who fight with the spirit of samurai are always the most distraught when things go badly. This kind of fighting spirit, or TOUKON (闘魂), is looked highly upon by Japanese because they see it as a sign that someone is committed and cares.

Personally, I remember as a boy when I would cry after pouring my heart into something and failing (be it baseball, basketball, or soccer), and it was always made very clear to me afterward that this was unacceptable – “men don’t cry,” and all that. Now, any feelings of sadness I might have are transformed into an even greater (almost unhealthy) desire to win next time. My friends refer to this as being TOSOSHIN (闘争心), which means having a strong fighting spirit and combative heart. However, repressed experiences aside, I think a strong case can be made for why men (actually, leaders in general) should not cry…

Leaders serve as models for others, and as such they must set an example. It is easy to tell who is committed when the battle is on and the tensions are running high, but when all is said and done, it is up to the leaders to maintain their composure. Indeed, one is not leading in a positive direction if they are emitting a sense of despair, which is essentially what crying is all about. Of course, the Japanese view on this is that the emotional low will make everyone fight that much harder next time, but even does not hold credence for me: a winning mentality should be maintained at all times. There should be no doubts in one’s ability, and allowing one’s self to slip into despair is a slippery slope…

Later in the afternoon I visited TSUTAYA (the Japanese equivalent of Blockbuster) to rent the two-part Japanese movie “Always三丁目の夕日” (Always SANCHOME NO YUHI), which is a prototypical Japanese film set in 1950s Tokyo. I watched this over dinner with Kumagai-san, although the 133 minute movie proved to be a real test for my bladder. This was the first Japanese-made movie I have ever watched, and if this standard is anything to go by I have been opened to a terrific genre. However, one word of caution: Japanese movies are very “wet,” in the sense that they are emotionally involved: the plot is less important than the minor day-to-day things that occur in one’s life.

I will watch Part II of the movie tomorrow night.