The rain fell and Kobe was drenched but it was still a thirsty night. Ireland were 21-0 up at half time against Russia and in the hot, enclosed stadium, the lines for the beer stands were long.
Paddy Ryan from Nenagh stood chatting with Sean O’Farrell from Walkinstown. They’d bumped into each other in Kyoto. “And somewhere else as well,” remembered O’Farrell. “You keep bumping into everyone on this trip. It’s brilliant.”
There is that growing sense that the nomadic Irish crowd are managing to turn the sprawling islands of Japan into a village. They transform entire prefectures into the local on a Saturday night. This wasn’t the most memorable match in the history of Irish rugby. But the fans have played their part in Kobe.
They’ve visited the dreamy and under-populated Rokko Island. They’ve sat down to sample an obligatory Kobe steak, reasoning , perhaps, that 15,000 yen isn’t bad value for such a world-famous dish. They’ve then stared hard at the menu to ascertain that they are reading it right before hissing across the table as the reality dons on them: ‘But is that price... by the gram?
Hai!
Does it come with chips?
Nô!
It doesn’t matter. They’ve travelled to the East for the almost foolish sight of watching Ireland play in a game which they can’t lose and yet must win in order to reassure themselves that that dream - a green rising in Japan - is still alive.
They couldn’t be anywhere more exotic. So why, at around at 4.30pm local time on Thursday, with the sky darkening, does it feel as if they are on their way to the Sportsground or Ravenhill for an early autumn PRO 14 fixture?
The answer is falling from the sky. It rains hard and it rains incessantly and so the Irish slip into old habits. When it rains in any city in Japan, the locals magically and instantly produce perfect rain gear, Clark Kent-ing their way into see through mac’s and water-proof boots.
The Irish, as usual, wing it. They walk stubbornly through the heavy downpour as if it isn’t there and then, in the packed train out to Misakikoen station, declare their outrage.
“Ah Jesus I’m soaked through,” someone informs the crowded carriage.
“I should have brought a coat.”
These are the complaints that have filled many the Irish sporting Sunday and here they are, transported to mid-Japan on an autumn Thursday. It’s true that following Ireland at the World Cup is a magical and privileged experienced. It’s also true that it will bring dozens of Irish fans to that moment where they find themselves huddling under an awning. Of a Laundromat. Singing “It’s a Long Way from Tipperary”.
That’s what you do for the cause. So at half time, Ireland were winning without setting the world on fire. “Couple of lucky bounces,” O’Farrell said wincing.
“Just a bit disturbing the way Kearney and Conway let it bounce,” agreed Paddy Ryan.
“And I think the Russians are quite solid. But… our number ten makes a terrible difference.”
Ryan has been going to Ireland games since the 1960s. He remembers when a win - any win - was a cause for delight. “The expectation is there now. You watch the Kiwis the other night- we aren’t fit to put seventy points on any team.”
It’s not a complaint, though. Just an observation. They move on for Fukuoka on Friday morning, come what may.
