It's been a year since I returned from the rugby World Cup in Japan. It was probably the best trips/excursions/vacations I've ever had and made all the more worthwhile in light of the dearth of holidays this year.
I will especially never forget the day that Japan beat Ireland in Shizuoka.
We attended a big reception hosted by the Irish ambassador to Japan very near the Ecopa stadium. The Guinness and Jameson flowed and we were well fed. The Japanese musicians played Irish music and even Ireland’s call. We laughed and sang in anticipation that Japan would lay down and be easily overcome by an Irish side ranked Number One in the world at the time.
Buoyed with good cheer (and full of good spirits) we walked outside towards the immaculate stadium and bumped into a bunch of Japanese fans in Samurai wigs, face paint and shirts. We greeted them with a ‘Banzai’ and they were amazed when we asked them to paint our faces too with the famous red circle on a white backdrop. They had never experienced international rugby fans before and were happy to oblige.
International rugby fans at their best
Armed with our new face paint, we got plenty of smiles and cheers from Japanese fans before, during and especially after the match. Dozens stopped us and politely asked for a selfie. It was a simply wonderful occasion and the IRB, which runs world rugby, couldn't have scripted it any better. Script: brash high flying European side crushed by friendly underdogs in a warm and welcoming environment.
I won't forget the three Japanese men, sitting behind us in the stand, openly weeping after the final whistle. We were annoyed but the sheer joy of the locals turned our frowns upside down.
When we found our seats and then rose to our feet for two passionate renditions of the national anthems, we were captured - face paint and all - on global television screens applauding. Within seconds our phones lit up with messages from sport lovers worldwide who had spotted us - even with our camouflage in their living rooms.
National anthems in Shizuoka
Afterwards as we left the stadium, you could see clearly where all the European/Irish fans had been sitting (partying) and where the Japanese had been sitting/singing/clapping. The latter group brought every single scrap of litter and detritus with them in their own bags and deposited them in the appropriate places. The former sports fans mostly left the stadium in the same mess that they always leave stadiums - for someone else to pick up.
As we arrived back out onto the stadium concourse, it was our second time to be on global television. There were a number of TV crews grabbing interviews and clips with delighted fans in red and white and shell-shocked fans in green.
Our face paint attracted the crews like a flashing yellow siren and so we did some vox pops with Reuters, AFP, Nippon TV and then finally, as I shambolically sauntered past, a final mic was thrust into my hand. It had a very familiar BBC logo on it. The cameraman was a one man band. He was producer, lighting, sound and video all in one. He simply handed me the mic and asked what we had made of the match.
He didn't recognise me as a colleague because my Nippon war paint and lack of familiar suit and tie.
Having done thousands of PTCs (pieces to camera) with varying degrees of notice - ranging from days to seconds - I instinctively gave this BBC colleague what he and his bosses back in Britain wanted: a quick, sober(ish) and concise judgement on the match.
“Ireland were steamrolled by a better team. They met their match in the scrum and the breakdown. Japan wanted it more. Ireland were strangely distracted out there. If the boys in green wish to make any impact on this tournament, they will have to do much, much better from here on in.”
As I handed the mic back to him, he squinted slightly. It wasn't that he recognised me but more the fact that I had given him the perfect vox pop - as if i had been working on TV for 20 years - and not drunkenly exiting a stadium in a ‘fully refreshed’ fashion.
I turned to my friend and said that they would never put it on air. Someone back at base would notice who I was and fillet it out of the final broadcast.
I was wrong (see photo above). My meandering did go out on BBC One.
Two days later, I got an email from the head of BBC Northern Ireland sport asking whether indeed that had been me who he had seen on his screens pontificating about Irish rugby.
We both thought it was hilarious.
