Why can’t we win it? Inside the Japanese embassy for Sunday’s World Cup opener.

The Netherlands match was another heartbreak for Japan, but it hasn’t dimmed the fire of the country’s most devoted supporters. This isn’t just about football—it’s about a nation’s enduring quest for something just beyond its grasp, even when the world refuses to hand it over. Japan’s World Cup campaigns have become a cultural touchstone, a narrative of resilience that transcends sports. The team’s near-misses in past tournaments, from the agonizing Round of 16 exits to the penalty shootout heartbreaks, have cemented its reputation as the perpetual underdog that punches above its weight. But beneath the excitement of the superfans gathered outside the Japanese embassy lies a deeper question: why does this team symbolize so much more than wins and losses? Part of the answer lies in Japan’s rapid rise in global football. Just three decades ago, the national team was a regional also-ran; today, it’s a consistent contender in the World Cup, a testament to investment in youth development and tactical innovation. Yet its struggles in high-pressure knockout matches reveal a psychological hurdle no amount of training can fully erase. The Netherlands game was a microcosm of this—Japan dominated possession, created chances, and still fell short. It’s a pattern that mirrors broader societal attitudes toward achievement in Japan, where effort is often rewarded even in defeat, but victory remains elusive in the most decisive moments. What comes next? Will this cycle of near-success continue, or can Japan finally break through? The answer may depend on whether the team can evolve beyond its identity as the plucky underdog. The superfans outside the embassy won’t care about the optics—they’ll keep believing, even if the rest of the world waits for Japan to prove itself once and for all. For now, the dream lives on, but the pressure to deliver is mounting with every tournament.