Ben James was in Kobe’ to witness a dramatic and chaotic end to Wales’ 18-match losing streak
In Kobe’s Noevir oven, the sound of the hooter is everything to Wales – cutting through the suffocating hot air like a cool relieving breeze.
Seconds had felt like minutes before now, with devastation loitering under the roof; ready to pounce on its favourite prey. 644 days of it, enveloping the players, the staff, the fans – all of Welsh rugby – in a blanket of misery. Like the heat in Kobe; it’s stifling. Inescapable.
And yet, as the hooter sounds, there’s a ladder hanging down from the top of this deep, deep hole. Devastation and misery chased away by the desperate choruses of Hymns and Arias.
On the sidelines, the Welsh dugout is a throng of staff and players – all embracing with the knowledge that, finally, it’s over.
This run – this wretched run – has been left behind. 18 and done. History, not the good kind, beckoned, but Wales, somehow, escaped. In the end, it never mattered how.
On the field, those in red can barely stand. Tom Rogers and Dan Edwards – the hero of the hour – embrace with a load-bearing hug keeping them both off the sweat-soaked grass.
Josh Macleod slowly walks onto the pitch as fast as his legs, pulsing with lactic acid, can take him. Once there, he drops to his haunches – taking in a Welsh performance that almost dragged defeat from the jaws of victory once again.
But it didn’t. Not this time.
Hours before, there’s a sense of dread. Last week, in the baking hot sun of Kitakyushu, it was hot. But Kobe’s Noevir Stadium, with the roof closed, is something else.
The word in the week is the air conditioning isn’t great. That’s an understatement. Once up in the lofty seats of the press box, sweat drips down my face at an alarming rate.
Typing is hard, but, I grant you, compared to 80 minutes of rugby, it’s nothing. This is going to be brutal. As Wales warm up, I retreat down a floor – intermittently stepping under an air conditioning unit to stop the melting.
As one punter near the press box remarks, even Prince Andrew would struggle in this. On my press lanyard, the hand-written name has long been smudged beyond comprehension in the heat.
Supporters use anything – hats, programmes, notepads – to fan themselves down. One Welsh fan, perhaps not grasping the roof, applies sun cream liberally.
Sensing the discomfort I’m in, or simply out of fear of drowning, one local journalist offers me a napkin to wipe away the sweat. I am forever indebted.
Martyn Williams, Wales’ team manager, strides over to Macleod, patting him on the shoulder for his lung-draining efforts. It’s enough.
Replacement hooker Liam Belcher, still on cloud nine from the pinpoint lineout that helped Wales get over the line, floats across the pitch in a way that belies his sweat-drenched kit. When he reaches a cooling box with water bottles, he collapses to one knee – shattered as he wearily sticks a water-soaked hat on his head to bring his temperature down just a touch.
Debutant Chris Coleman turns to the huddle of friends and family in the stands near the one sideline, giving a fist pump as he meets their glare.
There’s no wild celebrations in the heart of it, just relief painted over a rugby field in its purest form. This doesn’t fix Welsh rugby – far from it – but for those here in Japan, for now, like the hooter, it’s everything.
Every moment isn’t shouty or wildly jubilant, but it means something more. An on-field post-match press conference is met with rapturous applause by that small group of Welsh fans.
It all starts fairly well early on. Josh Adams races away to score the opener. Minutes earlier, he had been grimacing down on the one sideline – having apparently been dealing with a knock in the week.
On halfway, the Welsh pack don’t sprint across to join in with celebrations- simply looking quietly pleased with their efforts. As the cogs slowly continue to turn, Welsh voices are louder, actions more animated. So far, so good.
It’s not all perfect. One kick through for Adams looks a certain try, only for the winger to fail to gather it. He drops to the deck almost in unison with Macleod, some 50 metres away – both struggling to deal with a try gone begging. Eventually, Tommy Reffell drags Adams to his feet – leaving him to ruminate on the missed opportunity.
By now, the Welsh lineout is purring. Japan, having disrupted it last week, can’t stop it now. If you want truly unseen things, then it’s what happened in the room when Wales put their case to the match officials.
All teams do it before Test matches, getting their point across. But here, as Japan don’t get anywhere near the purchase as last week in stopping the maul, Wales have done something right.
As the momentum builds, a lone Ogi, Ogi, Ogi rings out high up in the stands. A second try follows, with Welsh players towelling themselves off in delight. Even after half an hour, Welsh players are struggling in the heat.
One scrum penalty for Wales sees Nicky Smith stay down for treatment as Archie Griffin is engulfed by team-mates to congratulate him. Smith stays down, still getting some help, as Wales restart play from the lineout.
By the time he’s back on his feet, Kieran Hardy is over for his second and Wales’ third. The loosehead prop raises one arm in the air.
On the bench, the sight of Keelan Giles – after nine years of waiting for a first cap – pops into view. Ready to enter the field, he stretches as Williams gives him some final pointers.
Hold on, the bib goes back on, as does the wait. Although, as he’ll soon find out, not for long.
By now, Matt Sherratt – having wiped the tears from his eyes – has made it down to the pitch. He’s met by WRU medical services manager Prav Mathema and Williams, who both embrace him.
Among the revolving door of hugs, even Wales’ Japanese interpreter gets caught up in it.
It’s all a bit much for the interim head coach, taking a few moments away from the group to compose himself. Finally, Sherratt and Lake meet – coach and captain – with a long embrace. In this heat, there’s no more bodily liquid left to cry – all sweated away long ago.
But the emotion, even from afar, is palpable.
“Enjoy tonight” is the parting message from Sherratt to the travelling fans, who hang on his every word.
By now, the heat in the press box is unbearable. Thankfully, there’s an air-conditioned box downstairs to watch the second-half.
On the way down, a Japanese policeman with a Welsh rugby facemask greets me, proud as punch of the three feathers just west of his nose.
Navigating through the corridors, one open door reveals Wales’ coaches waiting for the lift down to the changing room. Leading the conversation, Sherratt finalises his half-time message for the players.
Soon, the room is filled with Japanese policemen – seemingly a hang-out spot on matchday. Then, just as I spot Giles not warming up with the other replacements, Japan’s defence coach Gary Gold walks in.
This should be interesting.
As the second-half kicks off, Sherratt’s unmistakable voice echoes out in the corridor behind us, as he makes his way back to the coaching box for arguably the biggest 40 minutes of his career to date.
Macleod, with the tank having seemingly been nearing empty for so long, gets over the ball. On the sidelines, former openside Williams spots it long before anyone else – raising his arms to call for the breakdown penalty.
To my left, Gold simply whispers to himself: “That’s suicide, lads.” Occasionally, the South African saunters behind me, looking for a better view, before heading back to his notebook to scribble some notes.
In fairness, as the momentum swings, he has little to write about from a defensive point of view. Welsh players drop to their knees in breaks, shaking the sweat off their hands.
Referee Luke Pearce, repeatedly, has to hurry them along. After one charge down, Japan are in full flight while Welsh players can only stand with hands on their thighs as the action happens around them.
It’s unfolding again in familiar fashion. Unsettling, but familiar nonetheless.
As Lake waits for the trophy lift – namely an oversized energy drink bottle replica and an actual trophy- he looks around, taking it all in.
Hands behind his back, he’s had to wait a while for this. Once Lake lifts the actual trophy for a photo, Gareth Thomas takes over possession of the bottle.
Pure relief has passed.. Now, Wales are all smiles.
Two even larger bottles dwarf Thomas’ replica on either side of the Wales team photo. Elliot Dee picks up one of the massive bottles, throwing it at Belcher, before it’s taken away by some stadium staff.
As the players head off for a lap of honour, Williams takes a photo of Sherratt and his coaching ticket on the pitch. Even Gethin Jenkins is smiling.
Soon, the captain’s race is run. Lake makes way during the water break. As he goes, he gives Belcher a hug and a lengthy piece of advice, pointing down to the corner. Soon, that corner is where Belcher would step up.
Another Welshman withdrawn from the action, tighthead Griffin, drags off one of the cooling boxes from the pitch. All hands to the pump, both metaphorically and literally.
As Japan get closer, Wales try to find a foothold. With rare attacking ball, Gold urges more from the home defence.
“Work-wise, we can’t be walking,” he says. He’s barely finished his sentence before Dylan Riley picks off a loose ball and sprints 60 metres to score. Suddenly, it’s a two-point game.
As Welsh players stand around in disbelief, Johnny Williams lies on the turf. It doesn’t look good. Wales are rushed to kick-off, while Williams hobbles to the sideline.
Reuben Morgan-Williams, the uncapped Ospreys scrum-half, bursts onto the field for his debut, before being pulled back just four yards in. He’s not getting on yet.
The aching Williams then tries to return, but it soon becomes apparent he’s not coming back on. So, in the space of a few seconds, Morgan-Williams makes his second Wales debut.
As a makeshift wing, fly-half Edwards and full-back Murray shepherd him around the backfield. The wheels, once again, look like they’re coming off.
Still, there’s moments of resistance against the Japanese tide. One Macleod breakdown penalty elicits a four-letter expletive in a South African accent in our box.
Welsh bodies are tiring, with Edwards slapping the backs of those who look like they’ve nothing more to give. But there’s just a little more left.
Belcher, in that corner Lake had pointed to minutes earlier, nails his darts. It’s patient, until Taine Plumtree does something magic, and Edwards squeezes over. No delirium.
Welsh bodies are far too tired for that. All they can muster is walking back to Huw Bennett for more water and instructions. Five minutes between Wales and victory.
Soon it’s two, then one. Hymns and Arias rings out. Rogers finds touch with a clearance. The crowd celebrate like a try has been scored.
On the sidelines, Halfpenny and T. Rhys Thomas edge nearer the action. Those squad members not involved in the game hurry down to the dugout.
Soon, it’s seconds. Finally, the sound of the hooter cuts through the air.
The corridors under the stands are manic. As one Welsh staff member passes by, all he can muster is “Thank God it’s over.”
“I’ll shake Ben’s hand as he’s been miserable for 18 months.,” says Sherratt before starting his press conference. 18 months is generous.
Both him and Lake are clapped out of the room by the local press once their duties are done.
Down the corridor, in the Welsh dressing room, joyful renditions of ‘Believe’, ‘Walking in Memphis’ and ‘Country Roads’ ring out – each one chosen by the new caps as their song. If you never knew Giles was a Cher fan, you do now.
There’s little time to saviour it all. There’s a train to Tokyo to catch. A flight home back to Wales – and all the normalities and uncertainties that come with it – awaits.
But, for a few moments before they leave the stadium, in a near-empty dressing room that has been cleared of all of Wales’ equipment and paraphernalia, a half-open door shows the sight of Wales’ interim coaching staff sharing a cold beer or two – having achieved what they set out to do.
For now, after 644 days, this is everything.
