“Locking the doors to the stadium with one hand while clutching silverware in the other.”
Japanese football has a long history of corporate ownership. The formation of Japan’s most well-known clubs began not on grass, but within the magnolia dry wall confines of Meeting Room B.
Weekends could be spent watching Mazda smash Mitsubishi, or praying Hitachi would get their long-awaited revenge over Nissan…
But this is different. This is fan owned. This is rebellious and raucous. This, is Yokohama FC.
At the formation of the J-League in 1993, Yokohama FC were known as Yokohama Flugels. They proved themselves to be a solid J-League team, but it was in the Emperor’s Cup where they really shone.
The final of the cup in 1998 represents one of the most poignant moments in the history of Japanese football.
Earlier that year, the biggest financial backers of Flugels (Sato Labs) pulled their funding. At which point, the club’s second biggest backer (ANA) decided to look for a way out. The deal they struck was utterly devastating.
Flugels were to be absorbed by cross-city rivals Yokohama Marinos and the only reference to this community and once great Japanese club would be the addition of an ‘F’ in Yokohama F Marinos name.
Sitting on the edge of this dark abyss and waiting for the inevitable push in the back, Flugels went on to win the Emperor’s Cup, locking the doors to the stadium with one hand while clutching silverware in the other.
What followed remains one of the best stories in Japanese football to this day.
Understandably disillusioned by the model of corporate ownership – and quite literally disenfranchised, the fans mobilised.
A community of fans marched through the city in a show of unity and fought tooth and nail to start their own story – and this time, it would be all theirs.
A matter of months later, Yokohama FC became the first fan-owned professional sports team in Japanese history. Just two years after that, they were back in the J-League.
Life was better, but it certainly wasn’t easy. Money was tight with poorly paid players having to wash their own kits. But by 2007 they had battled their way to the top tier once again.
The opening game? Yep. A derby. That derby, against them. A tense night loomed and a tinderbox atmosphere awaited on and off the pitch.
But Yokohama FC, a team barely 8 years old, came out 1-0 winners. The father had been assassinated, and now, the plucky son had come back for revenge.
Poetic justice. David had beaten Goliath. Even just this once.
Today, this derby represents not just a unique story within Japanese football, but a genuine ‘break the mould’ moment for Japanese society as a whole.
Yokohama has a football scene unlike anywhere else. And this is a derby unlike any other in world football.
Japan is a traditional and fairly conservative culture. Change is rarely welcomed, and breaking the mould is rarely encouraged. Yet here, that’s exactly what has happened. And its legacy is fantastic.
Standing with the Yokohama FC fans, some of whom were part of the movement from the beginning, it’s impossible not to feel the overwhelming and indispensable power of a healthy fan culture.
As they look over the pitch and see the Yokohama ‘F’ Marinos fans on the other side, you can’t imagine that they feel they have lost anything by wading against the currents of corporate acquisition.
While their local rivals celebrate becoming part of the City Football Group and learn to chant ‘Steve Holland’ at the top of their lungs, these fans have retained something deeper.
It seems increasingly true that no matter where I am in the world, I always leave with the same clichéd impression: Without fans, football is nothing. And if they own it, even better.
ALL WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY THE UTTERLY WONDERFUL SAM MCARDLE. WHO YOU CAN FOLLOW ON INSTAGRAM HERE.
YOU CAN ALSO VISIT SOME OF SAM’S OTHER WORK HERE.