Sleeping With a Leg Out

I'm sure I've accidentally stumbled upon a euphemism of sorts with the title I've chosen; but it's literal, if nothing else.

The Tokyo Gaijin played a match against a French ex-pat team yesterday.  I played at full-back, with the opposition team foregoing human beings, substituting gutless halfwits instead.

Needless to say, we won by an awful lot.

It's disappointing for several reasons.  This match was extremely near my house, being only an hour and a half away (two and a half hours on the return journey, on account of me missing a train.  They only run once an hour to my little town.) by two trains.  To get anywhere in this country, you're normally obligated to get at least three trains.  That or buy a car, in which case you're obliged to debt for your entire existence.  There's a reason why the population has accrued debt equivalent to twice their GDP.  Not to worry though, everyone else will soon catch up.

Another reason for the disappointment is our next encounter.  We're playing one of the top amateur teams in Japan.  If we beat these guys, there doesn't seem to be a barrier for us rolling over the rest of the country.  The last time we played them (before I came to Japan) we lost by thirty or forty points.  To call it an uphill struggle would suggest a chance of winning.  This team, where everyone is at least thirty years old, with a penchant for smoking and drinking their bodies into submission.  By all accounts the opposition will be fit, drilled and keen.  Their downfall is, however, inherent in every Japanese system, from schooling to government:  They're Japanese.

They lack any ability to play the game.  They see a game of rugby as scenarios; to be overcome with dogged training, vociferous calls to perfecting each scenario.  Working extremely hard to overcome obstacles, patting themselves on the back even when they fail.

The rest of the world laughs and strides past them, flicking dirt from their boot-heels into the eyes of would-be Japanese tacklers.

Put more simply, they have a distinct inability to play what's in front of them.  They cannot adapt.  They refuse to adapt.  The Tokyo Gaijin play a brand of rugby (whether the forwards like it or not) that relies on short passes, off-loading from the tackle, breaking the line at every opportunity.  We tend to keep it away from the deck, running is the key.

This may seem in line with the Japanese mentality.  Having watched a few Japan games and a few top-league games I can vouch for their frenetic nature.  It's like watching a game of sevens.  While extremely entertaining it lacks purpose.  When someone misses a tackle (they refuse to tackle, absolutely preferring to allow the opposition through, on the acknowledgement they will do the same) they resign themselves to their fate and meander back into what may or may not be called a defensive line.  When the first person breaks through, he often (75% of the time) refuses to pass, preferring the age-old start-a-ruck tactic.  Drilled to perfection.

So this is the advantage the gaijin team have.  We play fast and loose, and we have the forwards to back it up.  Everyone is able to play what's there, on the pitch.  When things go wrong, we are able to sort it out because we don't rely on pre-taught ideas.  Our one saving grace is that we're not Japanese.

Whether it will be enough to ensure victory in two weeks time, I don't know.  I don't think we're fit enough.  Fitness means tackles, and missing a single tackle will lose us the game, it's that close.

Referring back to the title; we played against the ex-pat french in a game we eventually won by some one hundred points.  During the match I grazed my knee, causing it to ooze and fester in a manner unbecoming to conversation, so I slept with my leg out from under the duvet in order to ensure no healing into the duvet occurred.  It was minus five degrees last night, which means it was minus four degrees inside my house (there is no insulation in Japanese houses, I can fit my hand in the gaps around doors, windows and the like.  Not to mention the single pane, millimetre thick glass.).  This made my leg rather cold.  So cold in fact, as I stood I wasn't aware that I had a second leg with which to balance, and promptly fell on my face.  Quite embarrassing, but luckily there was no one to see.  I don't really know why I wrote it down.

So during the match I made one tackle.  One tackle.  I was playing at full-back (a fact I might have previously mentioned) and came to score six tries.  Apparently this is a club record, and one that I'm proud to hold, despite it being against poor opposition.  Two or three of them were long-distance breakaways, one was a kick through which I dotted down, and two were passed to me for a step over the line.  I won't write about them at length, as it seems masturbatory at best.  I'll link the official match report at a later date.

I've played about five games for the gaijin so far, totaling roughly sixteen tries.  As far as I can remember, I've scored a hat-trick in every game bar one, in which I scored one.  If you include the game where I destroyed my hammies after ten seconds, (which you legitimately could) that would be sixteen in six.  Not that I'm counting.

I just thought of an alternative title, 'Hundred Points War Comes to an End.'

I don't know which I like better.

Also, thanks be to the person who informatively posted on my previous entry.  I wasn't aware that my body temperature may or may not rise or fall directly in line with air temperature.  I thought I was a lizard.  Praise be to informative posts!  (Thank you for posting)

The End.