A View from the Press Box

Soccerphile.com’s Sanborn Brown tips us off on the view from the press box at Kyoto's Nishikyogoku Stadium and Kobe Wing Stadium

Kyoto

Named for the site of what once was the westernmost edge of Heiankyo, or ancient Kyoto, Nishikyogoku is a multipurpose stadium built in the 1970s. In perhaps an accidental architectural allusion, it mirrors the topogra-phy of Kyoto: a basin in concrete that opens up at one end.

The nearby Katsura River provides a breeze and,
in the summer, insects drift over to the stands to feed. Seating inside the stadium is set far back from the field, which is separated from the fans by a track. Even in the press box, reporters pack small binoculars and keep a mini-TV playing so that they can check replays.

As you walk towards the ticket gate, there is an opening through which one can see into the Stadium. Players can be seen off in the distance going through their warm-ups on the field; the Kyoto supporters at the far end wave their purple flags, chant, and move
in unison; off to the side, the colored pompoms of university cheer girls shimmer in the sunlight and rock music thumps through the PA system.

Press pass picked up, I walk through a dingy corri-dor under the main stand that opens up onto a lobby that looks directly out to the field. This is the same route that players and dignitaries must take, so if you time it right Zico or Pierre Littbarski or Japan Olympic Coach Yamamoto Masakuni or even the teams them-selves might be standing next to you. From there it is out and up a rickety flight of steel stairs to the main stand.

Regular ticket holders sitting in the priciest seats seeing a foreign-er coming up these steps into their section with a press pass around his neck invariably have one of three reactions: confusion (What is he doing? Where did he come from), curiosity (He must be somebody!), or even mild envy (How did he get that?). The press box itself is a small section to the left of the VIP section and just behind the main stand. Hard plastic chairs face a narrow, worn table. Seating is assigned but the section never fills, so reporters sit where they please.

Kyoto gets on the scoreboard first. When Sanga scores, Kyoto’s PA man loses it: GOAL! Yes, yes, yes, YES! GOALLLLL! The half ends, though, with an equalizer on a brilliant free kick. The second half witnesses missed opportunities for Sanga and the growing sense that the game is the visitors to win or tie.

Sure enough, with two minutes remaining, Kyoto concedes the game winner. With a minute or so still left, the press check their notes and begin to pack up: as soon as the final whistle blows, there is a dash to the heat of the pressrooms below. People gather around a TV to check the highlights while slurping on cans of free hot coffee before the press conference begins.

In the adjoining interview room, a badly lit, grimy place with beat-up folding chairs and a lonely Sanga banner draped on the wall now ex- Coach Gert Engels sums up the loss and then fields puffball questions from the press. In spite of the loss, Engels is funny and relaxed and sanguine about the team’s prospects.

After the press conference, the media rush back outside to
the track to grab and encircle departing players walking to the bus.
A group of 20 or so reporters crush around a lone Gamba player, eager for a profound quote or two (and possibly warmth), those at
the outside of the pile craning their necks to hear. The player gone, the press decamp.

Kobe

Although Kobe Wing Stadium played host to three World Cup matches in 2002, its J.League debut took place this spring.

Bright sunshine pierces through the Stadiums retracted roof, the turf is a preternatu-rally beautiful green, and the stands fill to capacity with drum-banging supporters in their black-and-white Vissel jerseys.

To get your press pass, you enter through the bowels of the soccer-only facility. From there I am directed to take a freshly painted elevator up to the fifth floor. Brand new and beautifully appointed, the press section sits high above the field and affords a fantastic view of the action below.

Waiting for the match to start, reporters doze, play solitaire on their laptops, greet friends, and check e-mail on their cell phones in the warmth of the day.

After a brief greeting from Kobe Mayor Yada Tatsuo, the match begins fast and furious. Kyoto goes up in the first half, but both mid-fielder Matsui Daisuke and star forward Kurobe Teruaki eventually go off early with injuries. Vissel presses forward in the second half in an increasingly ill-tempered match, but in the last minute, Kyoto scores to end Kobes hopes.

Down in the gleaming pressroom that still smells of new carpet, Engels walks in smiling and acknowledges certain reporters. Respond-ing to a question about defender Kakuda Makoto, whose errant pass in a recent Olympic game against Costa Rica cost Japan a win, Engels quotes the young defender as telling the coach that he need not worry about it; Kakuda is already over it. This gets a good laugh.

Out in the Mixed Zone an area through which the players have to pass en route to the team bus and in which reporters are allowed to approach players for post-game interviews we wait. At last, Matsui and Kurobe et al emerge.. Head down and speaking barely above a whisper, Matsui clearly does not enjoy this part of his job and limps off to the bus after only a few minutes.

Kurobe, on the other hand, is personable and takes time to answer the many very similar questions tossed at him relating to the status of his injury. After Kurobe is gone, most call it a day and file their reports.

Text and Photos: Sanborn Brown

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