Land of charm but football's fight is only just beginning

World Cup 2002 A personal odyssey From Niigata to Tokyo on a Japanese journey to savour, Andrew Longmore recalls impressions of a global game and culture difficult to penetrate

31 May. Sapporo to Niigata

At last, a feeling of football. Niigata is a jumped-up port on the west coast, brash and lively. It has the potential to be a football town, but their team are in the second division of the J-League. I had planned to stay in Sapporo for Germany v Saudi Arabia, but the Roy Keane saga makes the Irish a compelling story. Senegal beat an ailing Zidane-less France. The Africans deserve to win, if only for their courage and adventure. The sheer exuberance of their celebrations lights up the World Cup. France look old and jaded. Roger Lemerre has failed to take some big decisions and now it is too late. The Niigata Pink 'Un, a single sheet, hits the streets an hour after the game. Tackle the local food for the first time. Not a success. Cold noodles and raw fish? But the man at the next table proudly reveals his Ireland shirt, with the name Keane on the back. Not Robbie, I reckon.

1 June. Niigata, Ireland v Cameroon

My hotelier speaks good English. He is studious looking, with a mournful face, polite and gentle. I ask how he learnt. "From the radio," he says. When he finds I am a sports journalist, he replies: "Ah, so work is half and enjoy is half." Enjoy is a lot more than half when the Irish are in town. Somehow, they manage to be riotous and charming all at the same time and the locals respond. Cameroon take the lead, but an equaliser by Matt Holland – our gallant columnist – push-starts the Irish challenge. Later that night, in a karaoke session, the words to a "Midnight Train to Georgia" are adapted to "Are you watching, Roy Keane?" Keane will be remembered as the man who walked out on a World Cup. There are no excuses. He has let himself down. No formal post-match interviews with the coach, which does not please the press. Mick McCarthy comes in to talk anyway.

3 June. Sapporo, Italy v Ecuador

Raining harder. England a shambles on Sunday, so try a Japanese cultural experience instead, a tea-drinking ceremony and Shodo painting, then adjourn to Brian's Brew for an Irish cultural experience, a bar hidden away in the north-west of the city. Kilkenny Bitter and draft Guinness, a sofa, wooden decor and a big TV screen. It's afternoon and I'm not sure who is more surprised at my arrival, me or the bartender. Italy too strong for Ecuador in the Sapporo Dome. Two of the Ecuador coaching staff grab Alessandro del Piero after the match and pose for a photo, which says much about Ecuador's ambitions. The Italians are arguing about tactics. What else is new?

4 June. Sapporo to Tokyo

First brush with the Tokyo subway system. I lose. The secret is to keep it simple and don't get deflected. Japan, making their debut against the Belgians tonight, should follow the same principle. Japan do themselves proud. 55,000 chanting in unison: "Nippon, Nippon." I wonder what my dad would have thought. He fought in Burma. The fans jeer the Belgians, which is a culture shock, but football is the sport of the young and the young are determined to establish their own rules.

5 June. Ibaraki, Ireland v Germany

Ibaraki? Home of the Kashima Antlers, the equivalent of holding a World Cup tie in King's Lynn. The whole press box rises to applaud Robbie Keane's last-minute equaliser. The Germans should know not to take liberties with the Irish, but they steal a goal and retreat. They are not much of a side. Meet an American journalist, who enthuses about a left-sided midfielder called DaMarcus Beasley, from Wing Fork, Indiana. He is 19 and quick as light. I ask what odds Korea and US qualifying from the group. He laughs. US beat Portugal.

7 June. Sapporo, England v Argentina

It has stopped raining. Senegal score the goal of the tournament, a four-pass move finished by Salif Diao, who earlier conceded the penalty and later is sent off. The dreaded England fans hit town and, contrary to local myth, the Sapporans do not have to lock up their daughters or take to the hills. The British press attribute the change in attitude to the charm of the people, but I think it's more a combination of confusion and fatigue. It's a different type of England fan too, not so Ingerlund. England can beat Argentina tonight, provided they stick to the basics, feed Emile Heskey and Michael Owen early to heap pressure on the Argentinian centre-backs. We cannot afford to lose and nor can Sven Goran Eriksson.

8 June. Ibaraki, Italy v Croatia

Up at 6am. Two taxis, a train, a plane and three buses to Ibaraki. England return south in good heart. The Argentinians moan about England's defensiveness, which is sweet music, and the English press break into a chorus of The Great Escape as Gabriel Batistuta and Co file past. They are up against it now. How can the co-favourites go home so abjectly to a country in economic ruins? It is unthinkable, yet they are thinking it. Their faces betray the fear.

11 June. Hamamatsu, Cameroon v Germany

A wet day in Hamamatsu. Think Bolton. My room overlooks the cemetery. This is the centre of the industrial plain south of Tokyo, the home of Japanese football and immigrant Brazilian workers. For the first time, I have seen a makeshift football pitch on a piece of wasteground and a schoolboy with a football under his arm. A chance meeting with a Russian supporter. He lives in the US and doesn't hold out much hope for his side. Russia's opening defeat sparked off riots in Moscow. "Planned, political. My friend is Mafia. Nothing to do with football," he says, speaking with that particular emphasis. He liked England, he thought they had good chance. That Owen, he is so fast. He is travelling down to watch England v Nigeria.

12 June. Osaka, England v Nigeria

Met my Russian friend. He was unimpressed by Germany and Cameroon. If I want fight, I go to boxing ring. Miroslav Klose is a fine player for Germany, feisty and quick. France go out without scoring a goal. Like all great empires, the seeds of downfall are sown in the success, in a complacency and cosiness invisible from within. Philippe Troussier would be a brave replacement for Lemerre. He is a maverick, an outsider and as such will not be considered, but his work with the Japanese has been impressive. He has remoulded their culture, trusted in youth and taught a team from a society steeped in fair play the darker arts. Little Kazuyuki Toda, the red-haired one in midfield, is the star pupil, rarely averse to a shirt tug or ankle tap. England and Nigeria play out a hopeless 0-0 draw. Is this really England? But they qualify.

13 June. Oita, Italy v Mexico

Head on further south to the island of Kyushu. Oita has built a magnificent stadium, on the hill overlooking the town. But for what? Three World Cup matches? Japan has spent €120bn on 10 stadiums for the tournament. But this is a country which has a construction budget of $6 trillion for the decade between 1995 and 2005, much of it spent on useless, bureaucratically inspired white elephants. In a book called Dogs and Demons, the Fall of Modern Japan, Alex Kerr writes about Japan's passion for building monuments. "It makes the poor people feel rich," explains a politician. The people of Oita will feel very rich indeed. Which reminds me. In Sapporo, a taxi driver, to my surprise, spoke English. "Tell me," he said. "Why do the English people say 'thank you very much indeed'." Try answering that one in pidgin Japanese.

14 June. Osaka, Japan v Tunisia

Take last train out of Osaka for Tokyo. It's a Nozami train, the real bullet train, and we do not have the right tickets. Conductor agitated, but dimly aware that the World Cup changes rules. Besides, Japan are in the second round. Both they and South Korea will take some beating now.

15 June. Niigata, England v Denmark

Eriksson is developing a solid, defensive, scrappy team who could do some damage to flashier opponents. Denmark are a strong side with pace on the wings and experience all over, not flashy at all. Penalties again? I fear Denmark more than Brazil.

16 June. Tokyo

Arrive in Tokyo at 6am, having made history by delaying the 2am out of Niigata by one minute. As I board, a man with a badge marked "press" asks me why I am so desperate to get out of town. Nothing personal, I say, I just couldn't find a hotel room. The station staff and World Cup volunteers wave the train away, the last World Cup special out of the city. Reflections on England confused. Rio Ferdinand was man of the match in a 3-0 win. What does that tell us about England's ambitions? The Danes are stunned. They really fancied their chances and a German journalist wants to write a piece about the strength of the England defence. Wonders will never cease.

17 June. Tokyo

Stop running for a day and watch the Irish on television. They go gallantly; the Mexicans, a side I admire, go ignominiously, out-thought by the Americans. I've given up on this tournament. The Belgians must be certs to beat Brazil. Forty-five per cent of the population of Tokyo watched Japan's victory over Tunisia, 40 per cent of the whole of Japan, rising to 56 per cent after news of the victory had come through. They love a winner here.

20 June. Osaka

Back south to find the Lions of Teranga holed up in a flash hotel on Osaka Bay. Japan have gone and, in an instant, the national shirt disappears from the street. But the language of football is spreading. A Japanese politician, arrested on bribery charges, is said in the parliament to have deserved his "red card". There is hope for football here yet, though the sight of 12 baseball diamonds neatly laid out on reclaimed land of a dry river bed reminds you of football's struggle. "We are winning the war against baseball," says the head of the Japan Football Association. I'm not so sure. My hotel is beside the station. Every evening, a row of cardboard boxes for the homeless line the street. A pair of shoes is neatly laid beside each box. The local government provide the boxes and clear them away in the morning, which is a typical Japanese compromise.

21 June. Shizuoka, England v Brazil

Travel north with two members of the England band in full guards' uniform and a man wearing a Brazilian shirt and a kilt. On the back of the shirt it says Scotland Reserves.

22 June. Osaka, Senegal v Turkey

Scotland Reserves 2 England 1. My thoughts on Eriksson are turning. I welcomed his appointment as a breath of fresh air, a chance to change the culture of English football. But if this is the future, bring back the past. A coach, even one as implacable as Eriksson, reveals himself during a tournament and Eriksson has shown himself to be, as Morten Olsen of Denmark said, "50 per cent Swedish, 100 per cent Italian." It is not the defeat, but the passivity of the capitulation which offends. Owen taken off, Paul Scholes going backwards, Kieron Dyer running up blind alleys, David Beckham nowhere. Eriksson seems hypnotised. The prospect of England actually winning the World Cup seems suddenly laughable, but we had all been seduced. Owen, Seaman and Rio front up. Scholes skulks off. England console themselves with thoughts of 2006, but this was an opportunity lost. Spain, the best team in the tournament, have two good goals disallowed. Conspiracy or incompetence? Spain claim both and, unlike the Italians, have justice on their side.

23 June. Tokyo

Senegal are gone. "Against Sweden we were lucky, tonight we were not," says Salif Diao. But they were relieved the journey was over. It is not the football which hinders African sides, it is mentality. They cannot hold themselves together when pressure builds. But in beating France they set the tone for the tournament.

25 June. Tokyo to London

Fifa will be praying for a Germany v Brazil final. Anything else would be a mockery. No great team has emerged nor has any one individual dazzled, though Ronaldo's exuberant return to form is one of football's best fables. But this has been a defining World Cup. Never again will any of the established footballing nations be able to presume victory. I have my doubts about Japan's potential. Land is too precious for football. But they have been charming hosts and their train system is one of the wonders of the world. For the past month, I have felt like a stone skimming across a lake, moving too fast to penetrate the surface of a culture. The tournament has been too disparate, so many miles, so little community. But the hosts have a monument, Brazil v Germany, and that's what they wanted.