4/3/11
Read about Japanese professional soccer after the tsunami and other events: "Courage under Fire"
From inbedwithmaradona.com
Read Barry Valder's report on how Japanese football has responded to the recent disaster.
It’s Shimizu S-Pulse’s first home game of 2011 and the football crazy fans of Shizuoka City eagerly anticipate their team’s entry onto Nihondaira’s perfectly kept surface. But in the early spring sunshine, something is missing. There are no pounding samba drums, no announcer bellowing over the loud speaker, and the customary roof-lifting roar is eerily absent. Three sides of the stadium sit surreally empty.
After a muted introduction, S-Pulse and Yokohama FC emerge to a warm round of applause which soon fades to silence. Both teams line up in the centre circle, and we stand and bow our heads in sombre remembrance of the tragedy which shattered the north east of the country.
Today’s match is a training ground practice game hastily rearranged to be held at S-Pulse’s home stadium. Entry is free but players from both teams man donation boxes at the ticket gates. Despite the event only being announced three days previously, over 5000 people pack the one opened stand, and the charity boxes are stuffed with notes.
The 2011 J. League season was just one game old when the earthquake and tsunami brought a halt to all major sporting events in the country. The scope of the disaster, which occurred on a Friday morning, was soon apparent and an evening announcement postponed all the weekend’s games. This was soon extended indefinitely.
S-Pulse’s opening home game with Kashima Antlers was set for a sell out but it was Kashima who were one of the teams hardest hit. Their stadium and training facilities received considerable damage and are unusable for the immediate future. It’s a situation common to other north eastern teams, in particular Vegalta Sendai. The team nearest to the epicentre, Sendai’s club house was destroyed and training grounds rendered unusable. Their Yurtec Stadium was also badly damaged.
Other teams are unaffected by physical damage but still have to face up to shortages in power and supplies. This, along with considerable difficulties in transportation and communications, are affecting areas such as Yamagata, home to Montedio Yamagata.
As the emergency operation was in full swing, J. League teams throughout the country began offering the use of facilities to those in need. Sendai have been offered the use of Kashiwa Reysol’s second stadium, and of Vissel Kobe’s training ground.
And the country’s football fans are right behind them. Fund raising games such as S-Pulse’s with Yokohama FC are no one off. It’s a situation mirrored up and down the country with many matches played and many more scheduled. From the Yokohama fixture alone, 2000000 yen was raised. Multiply these efforts over the J. League as a whole, and you have an idea of the scale of endeavours by the nation’s supporters. Before the season is due to resume, S-Pulse have three more charity games lined up, including a high profile fixture in Holland against Ajax.
A major recurring theme since March 11th is the unifying effect of adversity. The sharing of stadiums and training facilities is strengthening relationships and building new ones. Supporters of rival teams are standing shoulder to shoulder raising funds. Players nationwide have been donating their time to community events such as a free S-Pulse football workshop for Shizuoka children which raised over £2500.
When a J. League all star XI took on the Japanese national team on March 27th 50,000 supporters packed Osaka’s Nagai Stadium. It was the first major footballing event since the quake. One huge banner simply read: Football Saves Japan.
And it was with a strong sense of this sentiment that I watched S-Pulse play out an entertaining game with Yokohama FC. The, if only brief, sense of normality is something those around me seemed to be craving. After such a traumatic fortnight, football does save. This sport has given people a channel for their energies, and one which is perfectly suited to the overriding national characteristic of community and common responsibility.
The unimaginable hardships being endured by those in the most badly affected areas are not dampening the ambition and drive to get their teams up and running again. Due to efforts of officials and supporters, their own and of other clubs’, Sendai will be back in action at a training camp as early as April 3rd. For many there is still a long, hard road ahead, but when the season restarts on April 23rd, it will be with a new sense of unity. Rivalries will exist as ever, but beneath the surface, ties between opposing teams and their fans will be deeper than at any time. The J. League will be all the stronger for it.
To read more from Barry, visit www.ukultras.co.uk.
A portrait of a young man as an artist...
I am so bloody lucky...I have the absolute pleasure of watching a young man express himself through his artwork and life, at the tender of 20. Jason (in the second photo below) has really come into his own: winning a scholarship to attend college, working as a gallery assistant to help support himself, setting healthy boundaries with the sometimes encroaching adults in his life, and enjoying the complexity and beauty of being 20 years old.
I can't take credit for much of his motivation and success, for that is something he found inside. But all these years of hanging out together, I did model for him a few things: curiosity about world, kindness and honesty, and showing up with all of life including the good, the bad and the ugly.
I cherish him and this moment.
I can't take credit for much of his motivation and success, for that is something he found inside. But all these years of hanging out together, I did model for him a few things: curiosity about world, kindness and honesty, and showing up with all of life including the good, the bad and the ugly.
I cherish him and this moment.
4/2/11
Paradox
What is reality?
An icicle forming in fire.
--Dogen
Zennies can't get enough of paradox! This one included.
San Francisco's greek god: Buster Posey
Indeed, Buster is our greek god of war (Ares) and I am glad he plays for San Francisco.
Tip-off: Grant
4/1/11
Out of the blue this morning, I received this from the father of Cpl. Andrew Wilfahrt. Andrew was a good man
Read this article about Andrew, emailed to me by his father, Jeff Wilfahrt:
A reflection on war, family and action
March 30, 2011
By Lisa Gray
The headline in The Washington Post March 2, 2011 read: "Lt. Gen. John Kelly, who lost his son to war, says U.S. largely unaware of sacrifice."
No truer words have been spoken. Until recently, I could stand on one side of that statement and hang my head in shame because it's clear he was speaking to me. On February 27, 2011, Corporal Andrew Wilfarht, cousin to my husband, and son to Jeff and Lori Wilfahrt of Rosemount, Minn., was killed in Afghanistan.
This begins a story I did not know needed to be told.
An uncle of mine served in Vietnam. He survived, came home to receive a purple heart for his efforts, and rarely spoke of it. Later, he would enter counseling, conquer alcoholism, and forgo having his own family because he didn't trust himself. He has spent an entire lifetime battling the demons we civilians won't know by becoming a counselor himself. He made several return trips to Vietnam, and later produced a video for returning soldiers called, "Coming Home."
My own cousin was a Marine and later became a part of The Green Berets, a special forces unit of the Army. He served as the medic in his team and the trials he endured go untold. We know he served the Bosnian refugees during their plight. Stories are rumored to be told of babies delivered in fields en route to escape. But he's always come home.
I have friends with relatives in the service; other relatives who've served; and I was shuffled along as a kid to the Memorial Day Parades and patriotic concerts around the 4th of July; and like anyone, can describe in great detail what I was doing when the towers fell.
What I can't explain is why I did nothing after the towers fell.
So enter Andrew Wilfahrt, a young man I met at various family gatherings with the Wilfahrt crew. They are a silly bunch with a bit of a musical streak. Andrew was by far the most gifted; composing and mastering the piano and clarinet and any other instrument he touched. A stand-out memory includes my husband on guitar, mother-in-law on accordion, uncle on guitar, and Andrew on clarinet. It was Christmas and they were "performing," but it was so ridiculous that Andrew honked his clarinet consistently throughout due to laughter. He didn't show off and gamely participated in mediocrity with the rest of the family band while we held our lighters aloft in delight. Later, this same young man's eyes would sparkle as he played with my kids in a way that suggested enjoyment rather than endurance.
When Andrew joined the Army, it was a surprise move made at the age of 29. He'd done many things and gone many places and battled some of his own demons. His mother, Lori Wilfahrt, told Minnesota Public Radio her son was an "interesting, wonderful young man" who joined the service because he was "looking for a purpose." Andrew wanted to be with a "group of people that would be working together toward something."
Still, our thoughts weren't firmly in place as to the enormity of the decision. Besides, Afghanistan and Iraq were like old wallpaper in the guest bathroom. It's there; no one likes it; yet no one really pays attention to it. This is not to say I didn't worry about his safety, but for months he was in Hawaii - bored, sick of it, and thendeployment to Afghanistan. Our ears perked as we rigorously paid attention to the news, but we would soon learn the price to pay for complacency. I wouldn't consider myself a peace activist, yet who admits to being "for war"? But I learned, through a shocking introduction to icasualites.org - which tracks the deaths of all of our fallen soldiers - that I have been living foolishly under the assumption that "they" doesn't really mean "me."
Admiral Mike Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said it best in this email to a reporter from The Washington Post: "I worry that we could wake up one day and the American people will no longer know us, and we won't know them."
Later, in a speech given by Lt. General Kelly, he said, "We are in a life-and-death struggle, but not our whole country. One percent of Americans are touched by this war. Then there is a much smaller club of families who have given all." He spoke of the anger that some combat veterans feel toward the war's opponents. "They hold in disdain those who claim to support them but not the cause that takes their innocence, their limbs and even their lives."
Lt. General Kelly then clarified in an interview that he is opposed to indifference, not dissent. "I just think if you are against the war, you should somehow try to change it," he said. "Fight to bring us home."
And this is where I am left. I can no longer be indifferent after attending Andrew's funeral, which was executed in full-on military style. Andrew would be the first to claim that his life was no more important than another's, but the Army clearly felt differently. There were high ranking military officials in attendance along with Governor Dayton. To look at that small box of Andrew's remains surrounded by grieving family on a crisp winter day where 154 "Patriot Riders" stood at attention with a firm grasp on their flag is to be touched in a way that changes the shape of the heart. The guns fired, Taps played, and sobs echoed throughout Fort Snelling.
I looked SPC Kevin Gill, Andrew's platoon mate, in the eyes as he told me the story of Andrew's last patrol. Andrew was handing out candy to some Afghani children; children he loved as much as any children he's met, and shooed them away. Platoon 3 marched over 100 meters of control wire where three IED's were remotely triggered. SPC Gill walked over one and Andrew another. Only one of the three detonated - Andrew's. I soaked in SPC Gill's pride and pain, and felt his tears while realizing this man is forever changed.
It seems disrespectful to return to life as we know when a bright, colorful, articulate, gentle soul, is gone simply because he wanted to be part of something bigger.
I, too, want to be a part of something bigger. I want to be a part of a country that doesn't let those who are fighting for an idea that we take for granted every single day go unnoticed. I want them to be remembered and respected and I want them to come home. We, I think, have done our time in Afghanistan. We have sacrificed too many to those who clearly can't find their way even with our help. Ten years is long enough and every day the number of families and soldiers who will never be the same increases.
Andrew's platoon members went back to work within 36 hours of his death.
It's time for us to join those who have been trying to no avail. Contact your representatives. Attend a peace rally. Send an e-mail. Start a letter writing campaign. As Jeff, Andrew's father said, "Prayers aren't cutting it. Prayer has been going on since the beginning of time and clearly, it's not enough." Join in being part of the message to our leaders that says it is time bring our soldiers home.
Please don't look away from the next headline. That wall paper is someone's life. The next name you see is also Andrew's; his family's; my family; yours. These are people whose hearts are in complete disrepair, and we owe them nothing less than our willingness to speak out on their behalf. Andrew did it; I am trying. I need more to join me. To not do so is nothing less than shameful.
Lisa Gray is a mother, writer and bookseller n Winona. She writes a blog, RestlessGrayGirl. (www.winona360.org/winona360/blogs/restlessgraygirl)
A reflection on war, family and action
March 30, 2011
By Lisa Gray
The headline in The Washington Post March 2, 2011 read: "Lt. Gen. John Kelly, who lost his son to war, says U.S. largely unaware of sacrifice."
No truer words have been spoken. Until recently, I could stand on one side of that statement and hang my head in shame because it's clear he was speaking to me. On February 27, 2011, Corporal Andrew Wilfarht, cousin to my husband, and son to Jeff and Lori Wilfahrt of Rosemount, Minn., was killed in Afghanistan.
This begins a story I did not know needed to be told.
An uncle of mine served in Vietnam. He survived, came home to receive a purple heart for his efforts, and rarely spoke of it. Later, he would enter counseling, conquer alcoholism, and forgo having his own family because he didn't trust himself. He has spent an entire lifetime battling the demons we civilians won't know by becoming a counselor himself. He made several return trips to Vietnam, and later produced a video for returning soldiers called, "Coming Home."
My own cousin was a Marine and later became a part of The Green Berets, a special forces unit of the Army. He served as the medic in his team and the trials he endured go untold. We know he served the Bosnian refugees during their plight. Stories are rumored to be told of babies delivered in fields en route to escape. But he's always come home.
I have friends with relatives in the service; other relatives who've served; and I was shuffled along as a kid to the Memorial Day Parades and patriotic concerts around the 4th of July; and like anyone, can describe in great detail what I was doing when the towers fell.
What I can't explain is why I did nothing after the towers fell.
So enter Andrew Wilfahrt, a young man I met at various family gatherings with the Wilfahrt crew. They are a silly bunch with a bit of a musical streak. Andrew was by far the most gifted; composing and mastering the piano and clarinet and any other instrument he touched. A stand-out memory includes my husband on guitar, mother-in-law on accordion, uncle on guitar, and Andrew on clarinet. It was Christmas and they were "performing," but it was so ridiculous that Andrew honked his clarinet consistently throughout due to laughter. He didn't show off and gamely participated in mediocrity with the rest of the family band while we held our lighters aloft in delight. Later, this same young man's eyes would sparkle as he played with my kids in a way that suggested enjoyment rather than endurance.
When Andrew joined the Army, it was a surprise move made at the age of 29. He'd done many things and gone many places and battled some of his own demons. His mother, Lori Wilfahrt, told Minnesota Public Radio her son was an "interesting, wonderful young man" who joined the service because he was "looking for a purpose." Andrew wanted to be with a "group of people that would be working together toward something."
Still, our thoughts weren't firmly in place as to the enormity of the decision. Besides, Afghanistan and Iraq were like old wallpaper in the guest bathroom. It's there; no one likes it; yet no one really pays attention to it. This is not to say I didn't worry about his safety, but for months he was in Hawaii - bored, sick of it, and thendeployment to Afghanistan. Our ears perked as we rigorously paid attention to the news, but we would soon learn the price to pay for complacency. I wouldn't consider myself a peace activist, yet who admits to being "for war"? But I learned, through a shocking introduction to icasualites.org - which tracks the deaths of all of our fallen soldiers - that I have been living foolishly under the assumption that "they" doesn't really mean "me."
Admiral Mike Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said it best in this email to a reporter from The Washington Post: "I worry that we could wake up one day and the American people will no longer know us, and we won't know them."
Later, in a speech given by Lt. General Kelly, he said, "We are in a life-and-death struggle, but not our whole country. One percent of Americans are touched by this war. Then there is a much smaller club of families who have given all." He spoke of the anger that some combat veterans feel toward the war's opponents. "They hold in disdain those who claim to support them but not the cause that takes their innocence, their limbs and even their lives."
Lt. General Kelly then clarified in an interview that he is opposed to indifference, not dissent. "I just think if you are against the war, you should somehow try to change it," he said. "Fight to bring us home."
And this is where I am left. I can no longer be indifferent after attending Andrew's funeral, which was executed in full-on military style. Andrew would be the first to claim that his life was no more important than another's, but the Army clearly felt differently. There were high ranking military officials in attendance along with Governor Dayton. To look at that small box of Andrew's remains surrounded by grieving family on a crisp winter day where 154 "Patriot Riders" stood at attention with a firm grasp on their flag is to be touched in a way that changes the shape of the heart. The guns fired, Taps played, and sobs echoed throughout Fort Snelling.
I looked SPC Kevin Gill, Andrew's platoon mate, in the eyes as he told me the story of Andrew's last patrol. Andrew was handing out candy to some Afghani children; children he loved as much as any children he's met, and shooed them away. Platoon 3 marched over 100 meters of control wire where three IED's were remotely triggered. SPC Gill walked over one and Andrew another. Only one of the three detonated - Andrew's. I soaked in SPC Gill's pride and pain, and felt his tears while realizing this man is forever changed.
It seems disrespectful to return to life as we know when a bright, colorful, articulate, gentle soul, is gone simply because he wanted to be part of something bigger.
I, too, want to be a part of something bigger. I want to be a part of a country that doesn't let those who are fighting for an idea that we take for granted every single day go unnoticed. I want them to be remembered and respected and I want them to come home. We, I think, have done our time in Afghanistan. We have sacrificed too many to those who clearly can't find their way even with our help. Ten years is long enough and every day the number of families and soldiers who will never be the same increases.
Andrew's platoon members went back to work within 36 hours of his death.
It's time for us to join those who have been trying to no avail. Contact your representatives. Attend a peace rally. Send an e-mail. Start a letter writing campaign. As Jeff, Andrew's father said, "Prayers aren't cutting it. Prayer has been going on since the beginning of time and clearly, it's not enough." Join in being part of the message to our leaders that says it is time bring our soldiers home.
Please don't look away from the next headline. That wall paper is someone's life. The next name you see is also Andrew's; his family's; my family; yours. These are people whose hearts are in complete disrepair, and we owe them nothing less than our willingness to speak out on their behalf. Andrew did it; I am trying. I need more to join me. To not do so is nothing less than shameful.
Lisa Gray is a mother, writer and bookseller n Winona. She writes a blog, RestlessGrayGirl. (www.winona360.org/winona360/blogs/restlessgraygirl)
The Buddha's 5 keys to right speech
"It is spoken at the right time. It is spoken in truth. It is spoken affectionately. It is spoken beneficially. It is spoken with a mind of good-will."
--The Buddha
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