UCL Lost Boys

Oh. Dear. God.

 Please please please, you reading this, yes you, the ugly one, thats right, YOU, if you ever EVER get the chance to be in Japan when this monster is taking place, watch it. Cancel whatever plans you have, and go and watch it, because there really is nothing like this competition anywhere else in your boring little life.

So, I woke up at early o’clock on a friday morning, and trundled down to my local station to catch a train to Kudanshita, which is right next door to two f*&ked up places in Tokyo. One is Yasukuni Shrine, because they have small offerings for class A war criminals who have “served their country” in their past. The other is the Nippon Budoukan (Japan Martial Arts Centre) which is screwed up because of the Police Taikai, which is the greatest thing to happen to kendo since me.

 I met young Nicholas Treen (or ????? as he is known in japanese) at 7.45am wielding a McMuffin breakfast and a free coffee from McDonalds. Ready and loaded, we went to the budoukan, found quality seats in the middle of the section in front of shiajo 1, and settled down to watch the carnage, of which there was much.

The format is thus, 7 man teams, 5 minutes san bon shoubu. If the fight is a draw after 5 minutes, they fight a further 3 minutes for ippon shoubu. Easy peasy.

It would be way too much to try and describe the ins and outs of everything interesting that happened here, mostly because there was a great deal going on: 48 teams, 8 shiajo and 3 seperate competitions (A league, B league and Poo League), and some of you reading this will get the DVD from yours truly featuring Osaka’s road to victory from the start of the first group match to the last match in the final when I was surrounded by hachidan sensei all shouting out support for their boy in the square.

A couple of points of note though:

Uchimura Ryoichi was bloody ace, as was Yoneya (from Saitama) and Teramoto (from Osaka). Funnily enough, these 3, who were easily amongst the best, if not the hardest bunch there, were all on the Japanese team that went to Taiwan last year.

Seike Kouichi from Osaka did a tsuki that I could only describe using swear words. The poor bugger that recieved it actually had both feet of the floor for a split second. It got three big red flags from the refs and lots of protest from the other team!

The final went to the Taishou match, which is apparently relatively uncommon. Both guys (Teramoto for Osaka and Hojo, the current world champ, for Kanagawa) fought themselves knackered. Hojo especially looked spent….

Also in the final, I watched Kiwada from Osaka tsuki a bloke who was on his knees after falling over.

There was a massive bald guy from Hiroshima doing Jodan whose name very appropriately translated into BIG BEAR.

There were some french people there.

There was also a another seperate group of Jonny-white-guy there, who for some reason all looked thoroughly bored. Perhaps they were looking for the sumo.

Half way through Osaka vs Tokyo (Tokyo got bullied) I had a phone call from a head hunter asking to meet me for a chat about work. During this conversation, the groups of supporters for Tokyo and Osaka were obviously being quite vocal, being major rivals and all. Which would have been fine, had I not been sitting right slap bang between them when my phone rang and everyone started going bananas about what was going on in the shiajo. I of course had my priorities straight, so I told the woman I’d call back, apologised, hung up, and watched the rest of the match before finally being able to get out without causing a fuss…..and Tokyo really did get bullied. They lost 5-1….

This was by far and away the most thoroughly entertaining kendo competition I have ever been to, rivalling even the British Open Kata Taikai of 2002 (Because every knows what a nail biter that was….). Upon leaving, I had a thoroughly satisfied feeling that I had just seen the best kendo I think I’m ever going to, bloody spectacular! The only downer was the total lack of decent souvenirs. The stalls outside really did sell the worst brand of tat you could ever wish not to see, like Hello Kitty Kenshi phone tags, or embossed Budoukan Gold Coins on Ribbons. T,A,T, tat.

And finally, here is a picture of Nick eating his lunch to the back drop of kendo. Arty.

For those of you that haven’t heard of it, Noma Dojo is one of the most famous dojo’s in the world . It was built in 1925 by this guy:

Noma Seiji. He also founded the Kodansha Publishing Company, which is one of Japans bigger publishers. Noma Dojo was also the home of this guy:

Mochida Moriji. Just any normal old guy right? Did kendo for a while, a few people thought he was ok, right? Wrooooooong. This guy was one of the only people ever to be award 10th dan (yes thats right, tenth dan) and he practised here at Noma Dojo until he collapsed at the grand olf age of 89, in keiko.

 Despite all this history, indeed inspite of it almost, and also the faact that the dojo appears to be a registered Heritage Site and also has a small shrine dedicated to the same god as the Meiji shrine following a visit by the Meiji Emporer himself, it is to be torn down to make way for real estate development. The last practise at Noma Dojo is 19th October 2007, and the doors of this particular piece of history and kendo culture will close forever, much to the detriment of Tokyo, Japan and Kendo in general.

So, a couple of weeks ago I told Ozawa sensei I wanted to practise there before its ripped down in the name of “progress” so off we went one thursday morning. I woke up at 5am, because Noma Dojo is bloody miles away from my place, in time for the 7 o’clock start. A dojo as old as Noma Dojo contains many old men, so it was with a little wariness that I was going, because although I wanted my own little chance to practise there before it went, I was worried as to what exactly I would find in keiko. But this was all stupidity as although the teachers there were in fact very old (some well into their 70’s) they were still quite content to spank me around, tsuki me, push me and generally attempt to spear me in various inventive ways.. …and I loved it. These guys obviously loved a ruck and took all opportunity to get stuck in for the entire hour that they had to do so, and the atmosphere in the place was wonderful, which just served to illustrate who stupid an idea it is to tear down this little place for the sake of more land to build on.

Many different people were at this keiko, men and women, young and old, and all were generally setting about each other in a healthy eton-rules-fisticuffs kind of fashion. There was one guy there who looked quite jaded, did what I would call “Odd Kendo” and had the mouldiest armour I think I have ever seen.

At the end of keiko I had a chat with a couple of the teachers there, and they were all very friendly and incredibly welcoming, only further serving to make me actually feel more relaxed and at home in this place. It really was a good place.

The fact that a place like Noma Dojo is going to disappear is one of the stupidest things I’ve seen or heard since coming here.

Yes, its true. I’ve found a pub. A real pub. They sell proper beer (notice the Guiness pump in one pic and the pint of Heiny in my hand in the other) . They sell WALKERS CRISPS (I nearly cried when I saw them). They have big tall stools and wee little tables. You DO NOT take your shoes of before you sit down. You DO NOT have to order food in order to order beer. The barmaid was spanish (I think), they even played british music. I loved the place. Welcome to The Hobgoblin, a haven pf Britishness amongst all the idiotic rushing around that is life in Japan.

At this point I ought to credit my boy Peter, who introduced me to this little paradise. Thats his arm. He’s an Aussie who also goes to Koubukan, and on this particular sunday had offered to take me to another practise he goes to (its the one in Shibuya next to the little shrine). After practise, Peter very innocently asked me if I fancied a beer. Not being gay, I immediately said yes, and he escorted me to The Hobgoblin. Its on the 3rd floor of some out of the way building down a quiet street, not exactly Tottenham court road, but it is also only a 5 minute walk from the dojo, which you and I both know makes it the perfect after keiko beer-hunting ground. The only downer? The price of course! 1000 of your finest japanese yen for a pint. Whilst this is blatant daylight robbery that not even the ponciest city wine bar in London would think of trying, for a taste of Blighty, I paid up.

A nice short post for you, and a commitment to my new found hobby. Photos of passed out drunk salary. On my way home from Koubukan (funnily enough, only ever from Koubukan) myself and Matt spotted this particular specimen, and the snap shot was procured.

A few weeks previous on a MONDAY evening Matt and I saw a bloke squatting by a small flower bed outside Nakano station as he vommed heavily into it. If that was what he was like on monday he had a hell of a week ahead of him.

Hmmmm. No picture just yet because the blog software is chucking teddy out of the pram. Joe……

(you mean this one? – Joe )

Yes, I have actually done some more kendo. Its going great guns. I’m still practising at Koubukan (which I have since found houses a vicous female kendo troll who should have been shot to save the foreigners of that dojo the heartache of having to pretend that they are interested in what an ugly bougu wearing midget has to rant about) and also at Shinjuku, which is devoid of midgets, or arseholes in general. This is a good thing.

Besides these two regular haunts, I’ve also started my attempt at dismembering uni students at a university in Kanagawa that the current coach of the Blighty national team intro’d me to. The first and most striking thing about this place is that the floor actually MOVES. I’m not talking vertical either when someone brings the Hercules-fumikomi out. I mean horizontally. When you have 70 uni plebs all doing hayasuburi (yes, there are 70 people at this club) the floor really does move an inch or two forwards and backwards. I noticed it when I saw a little bit at the edge continually duck under the wall then peep out again.Niiiiiiiiiice. And then the second thing is of course the fact that this is a kendo club with 70 people in it. The atmosphere in there is great, especially during kirikaeshi and jigeiko, its like a battlefield, except without the cries of “Mummy” and people picking up their own arms. I was in a group of 5 with a few of the kids and set about keiko as normal. Its all very standard stuff, kirikaeshi, men, kote, renzoku waza, tsuki, oji waza against men, then against kote, then kakarigeiko. Then you get a rest and a minor telling off from the hachidan, then pile into jigeiko. Score. I took great pride in showing the “boys” how really men with hairs on their chest and arms like Popeye recieve tsuki, and one kid seemed convinced he’d broken his shinai on my neck. I win.

Another new place I practised at was in the grounds of a small temple in Shibuya (A suburb of central tokyo) and lord of the dance, it had air conditioning. You have no idea the effect this had on my psyche. I wanted to kneel down and sob like a schoolgirl with a skinned knee. It was wonderful. Even in the 35 degree central tokyo heat I managed to go through the whole of keiko with out even thinking that if I breathe again I will pass out and turn purple. This was also the first practise in Japan where I decided to unleash my loving and cared for gyaku dou on the unsuspecting japanese public. The target was a lanky bloke with a poncy dou, a Captain Jack Sparrow Goatee and ponytail-ed long hair, and he fancied himself as handy, so he deserved it. I smacked that bad boy in like Zeus nailing some errant god in the harris. Beauty embodied in a shinai.

I also went to watch a competition a few weeks back, to support the local boys (shinjuku) who had previously come second the year before. This time round they lost in the 3rd round, with cries of shitty reffing all round (*sniff* it just like bein’ back ‘ome!) to a team who came second. The ladies on the other hand (made up of Fuji Xerox employees) battered all to come top, and becoming the Tokyo representatives for the All Japan version of the competition, for which they appeared suitably pleased. I would have been, and I don’t even have tits!

Next week, the Lord of Destrcution, Matt Watkinson and myself are off to watch the Kantou University Taikai (any team in the 3rd round or better in this one goes to the All Japan Uni Taikai), and then after that I get to finally see something I’ve been waiting for ages for, the All Japan Police Championships. Score, score SCORE! This taikai is ippon shoubu, no longer than 5 seconds in tsubazeriai, and you can do ashibarai (ie dump the guy in front of you on his arse, old school baby). Its literally the ONLY bonus of being unemployed.

So there you have it. I have the oppourtunity to practise 8 times a week (I practised twice this saturday just gone, it was better than I was expecting actually…..no really!) and also to see some thoroughly entertaining competitions that I’m sure are hands down more entertaining than the Open Kata Taikai, so I’m in luck. Now I just need beer money.