A few Summer Snaps

Whilst transferring a few photos from a memory card I stumbled on these photos that were taken at my flat whilst Neil was visiting last summer. If my memory serves me well, we had earlier been gorging ourselves at the Fukuya Beer Garden. To be honest not a lot of the night's activities can be recalled, although how Tim's attire could have been dislodged from one's mind is something that probably shouldn't be dwelt on for too long...

Neil (and Ray in the background!) This photo was taken at Jong-topia, our occasional mahjong parlour.

Also at Jong-topia, when a couple of newbies stopped by for a night's mahjong practice. Ray and Noda oversee interjecting with their sage-like thoughts.

From left to right: Ray, Neil & Kenyon. I seem to remember Ray taking a tanking, Kenyon huffing and puffing, me treading water and Neil running away with it...but I could be wrong...

A dedicated follower of fashion...notice even though totally gonked out, Tim steadfastly holds his half-can of beer upright! Not a drop was spilt...

The NEW DEH FC Shirt 2008-2009

It is here folks! After years of tight, minute negotiations next season(s) kit has arrived from the secret underground lair in rural Devon. First impressions are that it is very, very lightweight due to a) the ultra expensive Adidas climate control unicorn skin or b) it being a bit cheap. However, if the shirt holds together those humid Hiroshima summers will be a bit easier for those of us who are older and not quite in Olympian condition.

Anyway, Ladies, Gentlemen, Leeds & Stoke fans, without further protestation, here is the NEW kit....

DEH March News

Football Kit Saga

Towards the end of 2006 I started to swirl the idea around that our beloved little football team needed a new kit. It was becoming somewhat embarrassing (not to mention looking like we were auditioning for parts in Oliver Twist) as our band of players were turning up in shirts that were vaguely blue, that we needed to be kitted out anew. So, I decided to check out different options and prices and discover exactly what were facing.

Now the Internet was designed purposely for this adventure. Thousands of pages dedicated to an endless plethora of options, colours, designs, patterns, material and of course the crux – prices. I eventually came down to a couple of options, one with a Greek Goddess as its name, the other a hybrid of the founders’ name. I sent options to trusted sages (well Dan and Dave) and in consultation with the skipper (my old student Daisuke) we decided on 3 options.

As the total price was edging towards £300 including coloruful numbering, a shiny new badge and sponsorship branding, a decision was reached to tap up our team’s founder and benefactor. After originally agreeing to cough up, he cried off a week later mumbling something about having money only to pay the teachers at his school. Now, obviously any balanced person would conclude that the football team, the representatives, nay shining beacon of the school should take priority. But there you have it, that’s the sad state of the world.

Thus the idea was benched and we plodded on into the new 2007-08 campaign continuing to resemble a ragtag bunch of outfits than even a Vivienne Westwood model would thumb her nose at.

As we started to exit 2007 I once again floated the idea that buying a new kit would, perhaps help us bond a little better as a team. It is difficult as most of the team are young, overworked, heavily hung-over Hiroshima Univ. medical students, which means we tend to see them only at games or my wedding party – and even then not so much as there were young ladies awaiting their smooth charm. (It seemed to work as well as by all accounts the team actually now has supporters!)

I proposed a splitting of the final fee, if the 3 (ever so slightly richer) gaijins would stump up ￥30k, could they rustle up the remaining. This was agreed I went forth to locate a kit that a) would be reasonable in summer and b) not more than about ￥2k per shirt. This I managed to do without too much time spent and then out of the blue our team benefactor contacted me willing to pay 50% of the final total if we emblazoned the schools’ name on our breasts. Obviously this was agreed to, I mean DEH isn’t that bad, does anyone remember Crystal Palace circa late 1980s..?

So the long saga was nearly complete and our order was sent in to a company located in Devon, south east England. As price and the coulour blue (the chairman’s order) were binding details, the £30 (basic) ultra cool, ultra breathable space-aged clima-cool something or other was out of the window. As Dan didn’t want a round neck our choice was reduced further. We settled on the Adidas Tabela footbal shirt £9 a pop plus numbering, (new) badge and sponsorship.

As the declining yen and pound had suddenly lifted 15% off the price I found myself with a little extra cash so I purchased an “away” shirt as blue tends to be a popular choice.

So, sometime this week the new DEH 2008-09 shirt should be arriving to be debuted as the tradition seems to go these days, in our last game of the 2007-08 season, which confusingly occurs in May, which is after the opening games of the 2008-09 season.

A little side to this elongated tale is on our way down to Fukuoka last week with the missus I was telling the dear beloved the ins and outs of purchasing said kit (she was riveted to her seat), I casually joked that I should have just asked the old father-in-law for sponsorship infusion. As I chuckled she replied casually, “That’s a good idea, if you put the name of his museum on the front he would have given you about ￥100k. Several expletives were uttered at this point.

Ghostly Draws

We had 1 game scheduled for March, a nice local ground in Inokuchi at a reasonable evening KO time. Due to rain preventing play the game was cancelled and as I perused the league’s webpage the next week to find out the re-scheduled appointment I was surprised to learn that despite nobody turning up the game ended 0-0. We should not turn up for a few more games, we would then rest assuredly in mid-table all season long!

As it is, a respectable 8th place is where we currently lie with one game remaining and to be honest, win lose or draw, 8th place is where we will finish, unless we win by 7 clear goals. So as I said, 8th place we will remain.

The Mummy Retires...Maybe.

Dan, the 3nd oldest member of our erstwhile team is pondering retirement as the old body is no longer held together with miles of bandages as it once was. Shy of his 40th year, it sadly seems he won’t be following Dave into his 5th decade of playing football. He is attempting to line up once more, if nothing more than to model the new kit for our game in May. But maybe he will do a Mark Twain on us yet.

The New “Away” shirt – handy for those Hiroshima summers.　(OK, OK it's a bib! But still...)

A Trip Down South

For some time now my friend Neil, (translator extraordinaire, MJ player, surfer and travelling Wilbury) has been issuing invitations for visits to his various homes that have been scattered across Japan. With the missus being off for a week and dropping liberal unsubtle hints about “enjoying some downtime” (US TV for you!), I decided that some R&R with a mate down in Kyushu would be very good timing…

So I headed down on a Wednesday for a 5 hour 30 min journey from Hiroshima to Miyazaki. The only downside, being the total lack of service on the last leg of the journey, resulting in 3 hrs longing for any kind of snack. If only someone could have let me know.

It was great to hang out with Neil as when he came up for my wedding as I hardly saw him and he doesn’t often venture north to Hiroshima (Rumours abound as to why). Sadly no waves of any statue existed for us to do much damage to the sea, our bodies or pride.

So with no waves to surf we filled in the days (and nights) with a spot of sight-seeing, watching some classic British movies, eating the local fried chicken, going to shrines and temples (and in only

4 attempts at throwing small stones into a spiritual rock pool below!) trekking on (tiny) sub-tropical islands, blackening food on the BBQ, failing at attempts to make a tasteful mojito, experiencing the night life of Miyazaki, walking across the longest pedestrian suspension bridge and of course imbibing the odd beer or two.

My thanks to Neil for putting me up with me and driving around Miyazaki! Next time hopefully we will actually get in to surf!

Udo-Jingu Shrine and some "wild" horses...munching on a snack

Not a lot of surf and a Tardis letter box - Miyazaki style...

Neil looking for shells on the Giants backbone and the view from Neil's deck

The Longest Suspension bridge in the world...allegedly: Aya Teruha Bridge

A Bit of Pre-Wedding Golf Including Some Great Shots

Before the little happening of my wedding, a welcome return to the golf course was also combined with a visit from a friend from England and the first ever 18 holes for a new member of the golfing fraternity.

It was a rather chilly, snow flecked Thursday when the four-ball party started their round, consisting of my friend Tim from Barnsley, David, my 12 year old nephew Flynn and myself. Flynn was playing his first 18 holes with a set of ladies clubs that were about 3 sizes too large for him. That did not prevent him from easily playing the 3 best shots of the entire day!

Flynn started with a real peach of chip from just off the 8th green. It was best summed up by Tim, who told Flynn that most golfers wait years rather than just over 2 hours before pulling that shot off. 50 feet, a tricky downhill green and Flynn put just the right amount of power for the ball to caress the flag before plopping in.

The second and third shots were both on the same hole, and words really do not do justice to how brilliantly Flynn played the hole. The 13th is a short 167 yard hole with a nasty pond nestling to the left and encroaching horribly on a third of the green. My ball was over hit, saved from a trek through the cops by slumping into the back bunker. Tim’s was also over-hit, but less so leaving a speedy downhill chip and run. Dave’s ball went MIA. So that left only Flynn…

As Flynn’s club made contact with ball, the three “experienced” golfers all quickly looked to the pond waiting to hear the depressing plonk of a drowned ball. We looked…and we couldn’t see anything. Ahh the ball must have joined Dave’s in the Viet-Cong wilderness. I turned to offer some consoling advice and also to inquire where his ball had ended up. With a look of complete calm I was informed that his ball was in fact at that very moment resting rather snuggly on the bottom of the green. Flynn had hit a grass-cutter 145 odd yards sending his ball through a 2 metre gap between pond on one-side and snow covered excavation on the other.

Amazing! But that was not the end of his brilliance; he then played a 35 feet put, uphill and against the wind to within 3 feet of the hole. His very first par was achieved a few minutes later and after playing only 13 holes of his inaugural round. Jaime bogeyed and Dave hit something just shy of double digits.

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For the remaining of the round Flynn’s attention was fixed on finishing ahead of Dave, which he duly did and it was probably the happiest 132 anybody has ever hit.

A 6 Month Hiatus

Well, there are a number of excuses I could provide for not keeping this blog up-to-date; marriage, writing a book, a computer crash, the depression of watching any English national team….but in truth laziness is the only valid excuse. So, from now on I will attempt to keep this blog looking less like an unwanted bizarre Christmas present and more like a beloved family heirloom. Hopefully.

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.