A Great Myth

Many well-known beliefs accepted by countless people are of course nothing more than a good story. Up until fairly recently I would have been quite happy to attribute the biggest myths to religion. That was until last night, or maybe it was early this morning as the details are a bit foggy! This was when a view was aired that has taken over as the biggest Great Myth of all!

Two weeks ago Kenyon, the David Irving of the Cock-Eyed MJ Club, delivered a gem of revisionist interpretation, this being that “he never won the last game [of the night]”. Dave and I both guffawed rather loudly at this quaint proposal, less so after the last game was completed and our scepticism was aptly supported by the lack of tenbo in our trays.

Indeed the last game of the evening is always one too many for me. If winning handsomely, my total suddenly becomes something of a pimpled teenager. If losing, then my wares start to look like the wrong end of a shark’s snack.

Since the inauguration of the MJ table in 2006 we have all become a bit obsessed by our standings (or failings) in the overall table. The last game of the night becomes more weighed in ones mind as alternate endings are thought out. Of course once having done all this, everyone usually meekly accepts the suggestion of “one more then?”

So as the night had turned into morning and Hide and Noda had departed, we three foreigners played one more game. Just as the starting oya was being decided Kenyon, for it was he who first gave life to this work of biblical fiction, repeated his belief that “he never won the last game [of the night]”. Dave and I, even though both had been imbibing copious amounts of the amber nectar (well at Mama’s it is more Lucozade colour) were still in control of our facilities to pour a large glass of cynicism on that thought.

And when the final game was played out and trays were opened and scores tallied, what dear reader did you think was the result? Had Kenyon’s premonition been proven to be the most accurate since a Middle Eastern teacher’s one about his mate denying him three times some time after dinner...? Or was it just some myth that has become over time, accepted by some as the truth...?

Yup, that’s right, Kenyon cleaned up.

So please, lets not hear anymore about this one, like most myths, just look at the real facts and the truth is clear as clear can be.

__________________________

I am awaiting Dave's long promised update on his MJ website, to incorporate the Etiquette of Mahjong page as well as realising that this is 2007. Unless he is wishing to keep to Ge'Ez Calendar in which case he is still 6 years out.

Hawaii: Golf at Pearl C.C.

I was determined to play at least one round of golf during my stay in Oahu - that was the easy decision, the harder one was which course to play. There are some famous and exquisite courses on the island and I was keen to avoid three possibilities;

1) Paying even more money for a round than I usually do in Japan

2) Not having to travel more than 2 hours to reach the 1st Tee

3) A course that wouldn't break my record for total lost balls in 18 holes

Fortunately for me a family friend of my wife had contacts* at the Pearl Country Club in Pearl City and the home of the Hawaii Pearl Open. I can't say that I knew too much about the course and there are certainly far more famous courses on Oahu, but what a fantastic course it turned out to be!

A round of golf inevitably involves waking up moments after you have seemingly sleepily closed your eyes, and this was no exception. Thankfully the drive to the course was not too long and any tiredness was immediately dispatched when entering the clubhouse and viewing not only a splendid looking course, but amazing views of the clear blue water of Pearl Harbour just beyond.

Today's round was also going to be ground-breaking due to the wife, in what can only be described as a profound moment of spousal harmony, wanting to come along and watch. This worried me a bit, as well wives generally aren't exactly going to be the best people to turn after pulling a shot into the undergrowth. Nor was she likely to contribute much towards looking for any balls that may just have slightly landed plum in the middle of a mini rain-forest.

My Driver!

My partner for the round turned out to be a Japanese businessman (obviously!) who originated from Hiroshima, but was now located in Tokyo. A very nice man by the name of Shingo Tsuido, who was very taken by my (Japanese) wife accompanying me on a round, and so giving up the opportunity to inflict more damage on the family credit card.

The 1st Hole was a rather cruel long par 5, which I remarkably managed to gain par and in the process impressed my playing partner. He posted a bogey and I tried to inform him that, well this really isn't the norm in my game and disaster would be soon upon me. Although the first 9 holes were very competitive and we both gained a couple more pars each. At the turn my predictions of woe turned out to be a bit off the way. Only two lost balls, sadly on the same hole a rather unadventurous par 4 (just one of those holes where everything goes a wry) and I carded a respectable (for me) 46.

My wife, for safety's sake it turned out better if I controlled the peddle, was starting to get a bit bored by the golf, although some of the views of the harbour were breath-taking and that did occupy her attention for a good while. She informed me that after the 11th hole she was hitting the club house to rest her weary limbs...So for most of the back 9 I was on my tod and it meant I talked more with my playing partner - someone it turned out with an interesting take on world history.

The back 9 was a slow going, not to any poor shot play, although that did sometimes happen, as we were stuck behind two 4-balls of the octogenarian club. They were of the belief that any total under 200 would be a personal highlight as any hole completed in single digits was greated with joy that would normally by seen by a player chipping in for eagle to win The Open!

I just shaded the match by 2 strokes and with a score in the low 90s (OK 93) I was somewhat pleased with my days play. It was a strange round in which my putting after the long put for par on the 1st was totally abysmal, too many 3-puts helped to elevate a round that should have been lower. But the course was worth the play alone, and any opportunity for play there should be snapped up. Although it is maybe best if the wife is encouraged to not tag alone...

(My favourite hole was the par 5 8th, an elevated tee and 347 yards to the flag. In what can only be described as "a bit lucky" I perfectly timed my drive and the ball eventually came to a stop 317 yards down the hole. Of course it then took me 5 more shots to get it 30 yards and into the blastered hole, but the drive alone will keep me happy in my darker moments playing in the future.)

*Many thanks to Kawaji-sensei, a true gentleman who arranged the golf day for me as well as taking the time to pick us up from our hotel and deliver us back again.

Hawaii: Water of Pearls

Ever since I was child I have had a mental list of places, that given the right circumstances, I was determined at some point to experience. This year allowed me to tick 2 places of this list, starting with the Eternal City in March. Rome is hardly an original choice, but that is for very obvious reasons. Any one place that allows a visitor to delve into the Colosseum, The Forum, St. Peter's Basilica, The Sistine Chapel and Keats-Shelly Museum is a must. It doesn't require religious fervour or love of ancient history to be deeply rewarded by a visit to Rome, being human should be enough. The 2nd place was harbour in Oahu called Wai Mami, or Water of Pearls.

To be entirely honest this was not my first visit, but the circumstances of which I laboured under on my previous visit nullify that trip - the non-stop bus tour and only being 4 years old. Like Rome, Pearl Harbour is deluged by hungry tourists trying to have a their own "unique experience" of the visit. It should be pointed out from the off that as a harbour there are far more beautiful ones to be found in say Sydney or even Cornwall. Of course everybody knows why millions of tourists flock every year and it isn't to dive for pearls.

The USS Arizona Memorial and Museum is I am sure a deeply moving experience for most American and indeed Japanese visitors. I have to be be honest from the start and say that I found aspects of the experience slightly uncomfortable, but as I am not an American (or Japanese) it would be wrong for me to criticise this overtly. All I would like to contribute is the need to be careful about exhibiting too much hubris. It is an American war memorial and obviously this can result in opinions being espoused that in a more considerately environment you would like to believe would not be heard.

Upon entering the museum section of the tour, the visitor is greeted by a grey anchor with a black python of a chain standing detached and forlorn, it is one of the great anchors of the USS Arizona and creates the perfect note of contemplation whilst queueing. The museum, despite being compact and occupying 2 rooms was for me an interesting experience. Lots of audio-visuals to help with the original artefacts and photographs on display. The small USS Utah cabinet a fitting and poignant reminder of the other sunken Pearl Harbour ship that visitors almost entirely overlook because of the USS Arizona.

I was intrigued to find a small photograph and description of the USS Phoenix, a ship that survived the Pearl Harbour attack and saw active service through the war. It was later sold by the US Navy (I continue to find this strange) and later was sunk during another war, but under a different name, the General Belgrano. It is sad that this ship is probably more famous for a tabloid front page than any service it performed.

Before commencing the visit to the USS Arizona Memorial, all visitors sit through a 30 minute documentary detailing the attack, the immediate aftermath and the later events that resulted in the construction of the white memorial that floats just above the wreck.

The visit to the wreck itself is a 25 minute round trip, allowing the visitor to have about 15 minutes to observe the ship below. It is a moving experience, more so when reading the list of names of the sailors entombed below in the wreck.

I just wished that ignorant, naive and offensive thoughts had remained inaudible to me during my visit. The terrorist attacks on September 11th are not equal to Pearl Harbour, nor were the Japanese the Al-Qaeda of the time. Those that perished during Hurricane Katrina also didn't deserve their fate, despite any warnings that may have been broadcast beforehand.

The highlight of my visit was my brief chat with Mr S. Cole a US Navy shipyard dispenser who witnessed the attack and was enthralling to listen to. He is I believe 88, the other eye-witness present the day I visited was 94. Time is encroaching on these men and women and I was indeed a little humbled at the grace of they showed to all nationalities visiting. Some of their compatriots I heard that day should have listened to them more carefully.

Overall I enjoyed my visit to Pearl Harbour, a place that embodies some of the horrors of war, but also the sacrifices of military personal on both sides who were killed serving their countries.

USS Missouri & USS Nevada Anchorage USS Arizona

USS Utah

Pearl Harbour from USS Arizona Memorial

Same Ol' Same 'Ol

England football fans have got the national team they deserve. This is 2007, for those of you who are unsure about the fine detail, that means it is the 21st Century. So, why for the love of everything, do English supporters feel the “patriotic” need to boo and jeer other countries national anthems? It is not childish, a bit of a laugh or amusing. It is puerile, disgusting and pre-mediated stupidity that confirms all the worst stereotypes of English thuggishness that has become the accepted norm in Europe. Grow up and learn some respect. It is a far superior anthem for a start, one that doesn’t preclude atheists and republicans from being patriotic.

As for the team itself, well what do we expect? England have been in serial decline, well since the game was codified in the 19th Century. One brief moment of glory and a couple of near misses. England doesn’t produce players that are intelligent enough to understand how to interpret an essential change of tactics. Nor, do we employ coaches who are talented and able to implement a bit of tactical ability. 1966 was 41 years ago, it is entering in the mists of time that World War II has started to be clouded by.

Wembley Staduim is the great monument to the folly, myopia and greed that is the F.A. A place that is starting to look like the (vastly overpriced) gravestone of the English game. England have a coach whose path of failure was unanimously predicted from the start. (That is 3 wins in 9) Players whose inflated self-worth equates to an extra 5 grand a week being an insult. Administrators who have zero real football experience (being TV sport editors and club chairman don’t count) and so on and so on and so on.

There is a an Oscar Wilde quote with origins far earlier, that best sums up the English Premier League; “When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers”. That is the Premier League.

The F.A. wanted to revolutionise the English game, modernise it, propel it to glory. The fans were seduced, a whole new ball game rang Sky TV. Great new stadia, expensive foreign imports, it was going to be the sporting equation of Harrods.

Guess what? They were spot on about the Harrods connection. What did happen? Foreign owners came in and the prices went through the roof and the quality improved a bit.

As for the English game you ask? Well, not much good happened there. 2 champions league winners from 16. 0 national wins from a possible 7. Clubs like Arsenal, Chelsea and Bolton fielding whole teams without a single English born player.

How many English players were signed by the 'Big 4' in the close season?
Manchester United: 1 Owen Hargreaves, born in Canada trained in Munich
Chelsea: 1 Steve Sidwell, free transfer from Reading, not a starter.
Liverpool: 0
Arsenal: 0 (Well surprise, surprise)

Nothing will change because the fans seem happy to trundle along to a stadium in the wrong place, with a team that doesn’t know how to play, a coach who isn’t good enough, an administration that isn’t qualified and fans who don’t seem to mind.

A Very Very Long 2nd Half

A classic. 3-2 down and the long second half just about to finally be ended by the whistle perched in the referee's lips. Looking at his watch, counting the reaming seconds between FCディナモ and a moral inspiring first win. The heat and humidity were sapping, the floodlights dimming, the game ending and then....and then little Yasu DEH's midfield maestro hurtled down the left wing outpacing a couple of defenders, and cracked a sumptuous left food shot from the corner of the box that smacked past the keeper at his near post. Parity. Oh what joy for DEH in a game that at half time looked ominously like being 'another one of those games'.

The game was played at Hatsukaichi Soccer Park on astro turf and under floodlights. All three being new to both David and Jaime (the only gainjin playing) and DEH FC. We arrived early to make sure we arrived on time, and after abandoning a potentially dangerous short cut, arrived by taxi with an hour to spare. A highly entertaining match was in place and we enjoyed watching the 2nd half whilst hoping that the rest of team would turn up with substitutes to spare, as it was still mightily humid and Jaime had played golf earlier in the day.

After a small fright, DEH indeed would indeed play with 3 substitutes, both Jaime and David volunteering to sit out the 1st half to offer piercing tactical observations to the team's play. It didn't really work. As half time approached DEH was 2 down and looking somewhat forlorn. They trudged off and after a bit of obvious comments on how to improve the second half (i.e defend better) Jaime and David were ready to enter the fray.

The first thing to remark was it was bloody hot. Dry blue shirts were soon darkened by the outpouring of sweat. The second difference was the team had a bit more "umphf" thanks, one has to conclude, to the more aggressive style of the English contingent.

The 2nd half began at pace and didn't let up, DEH knew an early goal would give them a real boost. After a couple of useful attacks, the ball broke loose in midfield, before ending up at Jaime's feet. He looked up at the keeper and despite being closed down lofted a perfect 35 yard chip over the flailing keeper and in the net. Game on.

The equaliser came soon after, but not before a missed penalty by Yousuke. As he had been felled in the box, Jaime the usual taker, inquired what Yousuke wanted... Unfortunately Yousuke's shot brushed the outside of the left post. Yet DEH was not despondent for long as a beautiful low fizzing cross was turned in by Hide. Joy....

...Followed by immediate despair. From the restart FCディナモ went and won a free kick which was dispatched beautifully past the DEH keeper. The team strove and the FCディナモ goal was repelling wave after wave of DEH attack. Jaime hit the post from a side-footed ride foot shot outside the box, the keeper scrambled a couple of last gasp saves (once a bit illegally) and it seemed that fortune would be heartless creature. Then, just when the half was 50mins old and finally seemed to be over, up ran Yasu and a wonderful rapturous scream of triumph reverberated around the empty stands.




David, observe the sweat drenched shirt...

Jaime looking rather pleased under the lights

For Eri, The Cock-Eyed Mahjong Queen

Death: A Poem

Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A woman awaits her end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times she died,
Many times rose again.
A great woman in her pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Suppression of breath;
She knows death to the bone
Woman has created death. *

By William Butler Yeats

On Monday the cock-eyed mahjong players received the very sad news that Eri had succumbed to cancer she had fought valiantly for over a year. The last time she came to mahjong was at the Christmas Prize giving and she looked well. Alas it was not to last.

*I hope that I might be allowed some license with regards the small alterations with the wording of the poem above.

“Winning at mahjong is a habit. Unfortunately, so is losing.”

American football is by the large a mystery to me, mostly the team names are what I can remember on a good day, but even then the frequent relocation of teams to different cities can make even that simplistic detail erroneous. So it wouldn't be my favoured topic on Mastermind.

Like most British kids who spent their younger school years in the 80’s my first interaction with American football, or Grid Iron as it was labelled, was through Channel 4’s coverage. Overnight, kids would come to school and announce they would support “the Dolphins...Giants...the Raiders...”.

For a while, seemingly a couple of years Grid Iron was popular in a sort of lets-play-something-different-at-lunchtime-instead of sockball*... I can only really remember 2 lunchtimes, and it even then the games really turned into touch rugby as we had no idea what the rules were.

So, American Football has not made much impact on my sporting life, except for one coach in particular – unsurprisingly it is Vince Lombardi. Lombardi’s name has been attached to many memorable quotes, the most famous being “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”. He seems to be credited with being the first “modern” sports coach. Any football coach wanting to sound deep spins out a Lombardi quote, or if trying for more kudos knocks out a quote that he “has just recently read the Lombardi biography...”. So, unable to find a title for this entry, and wanting to sound intellectual in a sporting kind of way, I thought a quick Lombardi quote search would divulge some results. The result is the top of this report.

As for the mahjong, well after a rather sedate beer garden and after losing 2 of the gang for different reasons the remaining 5 retreated back to my domain in Mitaki for mahjong, beer and sleep (Tim).

Three highly enjoyable games were played which threw up only 1 constant – Neil’s departure from Cock-Eyed MJ ended in triumph. As one American ascended, t’other wilted under the pressure and returned to the bottom of the MJ table. One other unexpected result relegated that Celtic Tiger Ray to the red, his seemingly steady climb in the black was abruptly halted.

Amazingly considering the hours of play and the fact that most of us had been imbibing a constant trickle of alcohol since 5:30pm, no chombos or yakitori were committed. There were no big hands either mind you, a few sneaky 1 tile riichi, but hey it makes it far easier to concentrate!

As dawn broke over the Mitaki hills the 3rd game ended and Neil’s 4 day visit back to the land of living had resulted in 13.5 hours of mahjong play and he left for his return visit to Miyazaki with 180 yen burning a hole in his pocket. It was good to see him.

The final reckoning:

Neil +81 +9 +13 = +103
Jaime -23 +38 +58 = +73
Kenyon -32 +9 -26 = -49
Ray -26 -56 -45 = -127

*Sockball was a ruse decreed on high by my middle school headmaster, a large old man who had a likening for smacking small children on their buttocks for any tiny infringement of the school rules. Despite no classrooms being in range of a 10 year old’s shot, all footballs & tennis balls were banned from the playground to protect the school’s windows. So, we used to role up socks and tights into a ball like shape and kick that around. It was great when the weather was dry...but this being England that wasn’t a very likely event during the winter months and sockballs would tend to unravel into a soggy soaking mass. At this point a game of British Bulldog was usually started. Ah happy days. Well except for Hedgehog the headmaster...

Top Quote: Vince Lombardi

How strangely will the Tools of a Tyrant pervert the plain Meaning of Words!

There is an old sports saying that is often wheeled out from time to time, "the table never lies". The premise being that at the end of any season, the champions are the best team and the last place is reserved for the worst. Now, of course, in the myopic world of the football fan, the table often lies - quite blatantly especially when through some horrid twist of fate the season ends up tragically wrong. This happened to my own team, when Leeds Utd (like thieves climbing through your house window late at night while you are nursing a sick relative in hospital) stole the league championship. Still, I suppose considering the present circumstances I shouldn't bleat too much...

Ahh, but I digress. Last season Watford, Charlton and Sheffield United were relegated from the English Premiership, they finished in the bottom three and were pitiful to watch at times. Justice done then? Well, here is the snag, another team should have been relegated (actually, if my opinion counts for anything - right out of the entire football league!) for not just breaking league rules, but smashing them with a sledgehammer. They club cheated, they lied and through their deliberate deceit they are about to gulp the new sugary sweet TV deal at a mere £50m a season. The official Inquiry revealed that key members of the West Ham board willingly and purposely concealed and misled the Premier League. You don't need a law degree to conclude that is bollocks.

The much heralded "best league in the world" English Premiership has once again shown to be stupid and what is more they don't give a damn. Clubs are being bought up left and right by persons whose accumulation of their vast fortunes are somewhat questionable. Or, and I still can't work this one out, being 'bought' by American tycoons who don't actually pay any money from their vast pockets. Clubs are being straddled with debts that are ludicrous.

One of the goals of the Premier League when it began in 1992 (oh and by the way, football did exist before then, though Sky TV like to pretend that it isn't the case) the league would be structured to help the England national team...yeh that REALLY worked! The game is actually struggling, crowds are down as fans have been priced out, the number of English players in the top league has dwindled to such an extent, if this was rainfall in summer severe drought warnings would be in effect.

But back to the matter in hand. The Premier League has accepted that lying, cheating and in pilfering is fine - as long as you say that you are sorry, very sorry and you promise to cross your heart and hope to die that it will never happen again. No PlayStation for a week and reduction of your pocket money and let that be a lesson to you!

"I cannot accept, your canon that
we are to judge pope and king unlike other men,
with a favorable presumption that they do no wrong.
If there is any presumption, it is the other way against holders of power ...
Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. "

Lord Acton

Top Quote: Samuel Adams

Newton's 3rd Law & Cup Defeats

I failed GCSE Physics. Well, that is not entirely accurate - I actually managed to gain a Grade 'D', which thanks to the re-branding of English examinations meant that two years of turning up twice weekly, which resulted in a piece of paper congratulating me on my success. To be able to come back in the 6th form and study for 3 'A' Levels I, and every other English & Welsh student, needed to gain 5 'C' or above results. Now, it is not without foundation that a suggestion could be proposed that if 'C' is the entry level, then everything else below that mark, is well, really a fail*. But that is the Tory party education reforms for you.

My physics teacher was a vain tosser by the name of Mr Thomas, who when not attempting to hide is ever increasing baldness by sleeking his remaining hair back with 2 tubs of Brylcreem, liked to show of his physical prowess by various demonstrations that allowed him to flex his biceps.

Now all teachers have nicknames, almost always attached through humour and divided between kindly monikers and those with more devilish origins. Mr Thomas was known by Fast Eddie. This allegedly had something to do with his nom de guerre, as a moonlighting central heating installation man. Not sure how much truth was in the story, but he was called Eddie, or for those seemingly closer female teaching assistants - "Ed".

Now I suppose this next analysis stems more from biology than physics (at my school, my 2nd year tutor was a cyclopian battle-axe, whose glass eye used to rattle in the socket when she was angry or excited. My tutor - M4, never did verify the latter) the chicken or the egg conundrum; was my 'failure' in physics due to my total lack of interest, nay ability in the subject? Or was it rooted in the baffling, and indeed perturbing actions of glorified plumber?

In truth physics, apart from the obvious stuff like universal gravity and the 3 Laws of Motion, has impacted on my consciousness not one iota since 1991. That is, except for old Sir Issac. He seemed a rather jolly old intellectual fellow, and his 3rd Law is what came to me on the journey home from Senogawa Park on Sunday afternoon following a truly horrific performance by DEH.

Last season DEH was crap. I am sure other just as suitable words could be used, bollocks is another fine one, but crap really does accurately portray and define our season. Didn't win a single league game, managed only 1pt and forfeited 2 games through lack of players. We finished plum last place and Division C beckoned. This is where a cruel twist of fate intervened and spared us from plying our craft with lesser (=easier) teams. The Lord and Master of the Hiroshima Sunday League (and also our tight-fisted patron) fiddled the tables like a politicians' fuel allowance and thus we remained in Division B.

Our first game of the season (see previous report) was a beauty, a thumping 4-0 romp. So, it was with some degree of confidence that we looked forward to the next game, a cup match against a team struggling in a division 3 below ourselves. A grass pitch and inclement weather too, ahh at last the Gods were smiling upon us and a rematch with the dastardly Brazilians was looming large than a hippo charging towards you. There was just one small, tiny problem...we played like a bunch of twats and lost 1-0.

Everything we did right last time, we completely screwed up this time. Our passing game was non-existent and our midfield and defence seemed to be involved in a competition to see who could give the ball away the most (which the midfield won hands down). It was a depressing, energy sapping loss that really never ever should have happened. What the FFFFF awaits us in our next performance, the devil only knows. But I ponder on this thought, if as Newton declared;

"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction"

Our first game was brilliant, our second awful, then our 3rd game must surely be a triumph! It is the laws of physics after all.

Dan, wearing...I really don't know!

Josh, the debutant, is in the foreground. Hurley is to his left and Dan's stocking-less leg to the right!

*Written in small letters as to not offend any PC loving educationalists out there! You can't have 'Passes' at only 30%!

**We did in fact have a new gaijin player make his debut on Sunday - Josh an actual current DEH teacher no less! Who came on for the 2nd half. He is most welcome to swell the old foreigner's ranks.

What A Difference A Grass Pitch Makes

If seasons could be books, then last year's was an enactment of Volatire's Candide, despite continued disasters and defeats there was always the optimistic prospect of the next game in which fortunes would be turned for the better. Like Voltaire's protagonist not much did go right for DEH last season, a single point and a quarter-finals appearance were the brief highlights of desperate year.

A new season always brings out the optimist amongst us, last year's failings forgotten and hope springing that this year will be alright. The team's first sign that things might be different was the scheduling, which allocated the match be played on a grass pitch, indeed the very same park where our only moment of glory came last year. For the 3 Englishmen in the team the thought of playing on grass wells the belief and girded the loins. So it proved as DEH romped home with 4 second half goals against AC Telan.

The 1st half was a great way to kick off the new season, lost of action, plenty of meaty tackles, shots, saves, misses and an overall high level of play. AC Telan shaded possession, but the bulk of the chances fell to DEH. We should have gone in a goal up as the team's attacking style merited a lead. Thankfully for Jaime the long ball hoof of last season was replaced with a quick pass and move style that resulted in him actually getting the ball in dangerous areas for once.

The weather was hot and sapping and half-time came as a welcome rest bite to rest some weary (and old) legs. David was quite happy to continue as sub and was quite firm in his belief that his contribution should be kept on the leash to be let loose in the last 15 minutes.

The 2nd half started in the best way for DEH, within the first 5 minutes a finely worked goal from a scintillating pass on the half-volley from Jaime arrowed into the 5-yard box to be smashed in to roof by our new 19 year old player. Indeed it was his day, he scored another goal, his presence created an own goal for third and a beautiful through ball was finished off for the 4th.

David did indeed come on for Jaime who was knackered having run around a bit more than usual and anyway if one forward was to go off the one with the teenage legs shouldn't have been the one to leave. Dave playing striker, (he really is turning into Mr Versatile - the John O'Shea of the DEH team) and twice nearly scored. Dan again had one of his imposing games in the centre of defence and the new skipper not only started the season with a win (and so doubling our entire points tally of last season) but also a clean sheet.

All in all a rather good start.

Dan, David and Jaime then headed off the Hiroshima International Airport (even though it no longer flies outside of Japan) for a few beers and a late lunch as well as a bit of plane spotting as Dan especially become quite excited by the arrival of the Pokemon Express Charter Flight. He claimed he wanted a picture for his lad, but....