Co-hosts find their feet on global stage

Whatever the successes and shortcomings of the Japan side in their draw with Belgium last night, one thing has been settled once and for all. As one young man put it, dressed in the blue No 7 shirt of Japan's best player, Hidetoshi Nakata: "Once they are out there on the field, you realise – they're not that short after all."

Every other fan seemed to have similar thoughts, as they emerged from the ground. The team's height, it seems, is something of a national preoccupation. Several media previews had noted that the difference between the average Belgian player and the average Japanese was two inches. But yesterday, it mattered little.

"The Belgians were bigger, but we were faster," said one fan. "I felt as if Japan had grown," a young woman told me.

Last night's result makes Japan's chances of qualifying from Group H no more certain but for the fans, at least, something was laid to rest.

Whatever happens, however badly the team might fare against Russia or Tunisia, the team will not be totally humiliated. In France in 1998, Japan's only other World Cup appearance, the side lost every match and scored only one goal. In Saitama, they stood tall, even if they are all a bit short.

Professional football in Japan is less than 10 years old; this fact is sometimes easy to forget but at other times glaringly obvious. The Saitama Stadium is magnificent and, despite the empty seats, it held 55,000 supporters yesterday, all of them – bar a few hundred Belgians – behind the national team. They roared and chanted in unison, cheered their own players, and politely booed the opposition. And yet there was something faltering and uncertain about them, as if they were still getting used to being football supporters and trying a little bit too hard.

Much of this is very positive. Compared to European supporters they are neat, polite, considerate and sober, as people in Japan always are. There are many more women, many more older people, and many entire families. But Japan has to do something about its chants. They consist of just one word – "Nihon", meaning Japan – repeated to varying rhythms and melodies. "Nippon! Nippon!" they shout. And sometimes, "Nippon-Nippon-Nippon!" The noise was immense, and yet somehow the stadium failed to feel full.

"It's a great day for Japan," said a 19-year old student, Yasuki Akita. "I just wish the rest of the country was a bit more enthusiastic. The Koreans are a lot more enthusiastic. None of the older people here care much either way." A party of elderly people sitting on the grass outside the stadium bore out his words.

"No, I'm not at all interested in football," said one. "We certainly didn't want tickets. We just wanted to come and hear the noise from the stadium and soak up the atmosphere. This is where I come jogging in the morning. They spent a lot of money on this stadium, but to be honest if we don't even come and sit here, it won't have done us any good at all."