The Season of Proving Myself: The Two Years I Couldn't Play

Right now, I am incredibly restless.

The team has just started preparing for next season. Normally, this would be a tough period of pushing our bodies to the limit, but my spirits are only rising.

I want to play in a match soon. I want to get out there and prove my worth. That is almost all I can think about.

Nice to meet you.

I am Ko Sato, a hooker for Ricoh Black Rams Tokyo. I am 27 years old, from Niigata City, and this is my fifth year with the team.

I am not very good at talking about myself like this. I only update my Instagram occasionally.

The reason I started this note is that I wanted to properly put my current feelings into words and leave them behind.

Back on the pitch after seven months

For the past two seasons, I haven't been able to play in matches properly.

The season before last, I played at the beginning but couldn't find my form, and with injuries like a concussion, I couldn't get the playing time I wanted.

And last season, due to an Achilles tendon injury, I couldn't stand on the pitch for an official match even once.

I was finally able to return in a practice match on May 11th, late in the season. I came on as a substitute 30 minutes into the first half for the first time in seven months.

The day after I turned 27, standing on the pitch after such a long time, I was able to get a sense of my own progress.

That is why I think I am even more restless.

Why can't I play?

It was the first time in my life I hadn't played in matches for this long.

When you can't play, stress builds up. When you start thinking, 'I won't be able to play anyway,' you can't even focus on practice.

There were times when, even after my injury healed, I wasn't being selected as I had hoped, and I searched within myself over and over for the reason why I couldn't play.

I kept thinking about things that were beyond my control even if I thought about them.

I think there was probably a path where I could have just given up here, thinking, 'I'm just not good enough anymore.'

But for me, it was the opposite.

That's because, in my own mind, I never felt like I was losing.If I could just get on the field, I knew I could prove it.

I think the time I spent unable to play made my desire to be on the field grow much stronger than it was when I was actually playing.

The two things that supported me

There are two things that supported me over these past two years.

One is my notebook.

After turning pro and going through a long period of not being able to play, I started writing by hand on my iPad. I only write positive words.

Things like, 'Don't doubt yourself,' 'Keep believing,' and 'Focus on what you can control.'

I sync it to my phone so I can look back at it whenever I need to. When I feel lost, I open it up and reset my mindset, thinking, 'That's right, I'll keep this perspective for now.'

It's no exaggeration to say that if I didn't have this, my spirits might have fallen so low that I would have quit rugby.

Why only positive words?

Because at my core, I'm a negative person. I'm the type who thinks about things very deeply and always prepares for the worst-case scenario. My wife often tells me, 'You're always assuming the worst, aren't you?'

However, thanks to that, I can stay calm when something actually happens.

Before a game, people sometimes tell me, 'You look so confident' or 'Aren't you nervous?' but inside, my heart is pounding. I've just finished imagining both the good and the bad beforehand.

And the other source of support is my wife.

My wife sees things much more calmly than I do.

When I talk to her about my worries, she doesn't just comfort me; she shows me the reality of the situation by saying things like, 'I can see where the other person is coming from, too,' and then she always brings it back to a positive note in the end.

Over these past two years, I've consulted her every time something came up. My wife is amazing.

Turning pro, which started with the thought, 'It would be nice to play just one game'

To begin with, my career didn't have a spectacular start.

In college, I wasn't the kind of player who was scouted by many teams; I was picked up by Ricoh at the very last minute. I truly feel I was lucky.

In my first year with the team, I was ranked fifth among the hookers. I was at the very bottom.

Rather than frustration, I felt more of a sense of acceptance.

I knew myself that I still had a long way to go.

I remember talking to my wife (then my girlfriend) before the season started, saying, 'It would be great if I could just play in one game.'

However, that year, the team's hookers suffered a series of injuries, and by chance, the opportunity came to me.

My debut was as a substitute, and I played for eight minutes. Honestly, I don't remember much because I was so nervous.

Then, in the next game, I got my first chance to start and scored a try two minutes into the match. I managed to score two in that game.

From then on, I feel like I started to be seen as a player who could be used in games.

The presence of the coach at the time was also significant.

Unlike in high school or college, lineout throws in the professional league require speed. I struggled at first, but that coach taught me one-on-one.

When you have repeated successful experiences, you gain confidence. When you can throw with confidence, the ball becomes stable.

Conversely, if you have even a little bit of anxiety, the ball will honestly wobble.

My throwing, which had been a source of worry, gradually turned into a weapon. Looking back, it was all thanks to luck, timing, and the people around me.

When I joined the team, I thought, 'I guess I'll just work as a regular employee' and 'I probably won't be able to play in games that easily.'

Even here, I have a personality that assumes the worst.

That changed as I played in games and gained confidence, and by my third year, I had discussed it with my wife and decided to sign a professional contract.

Professional sports is a world where if you don't produce results, your contract won't be renewed. During these two years when I couldn't play, I honestly felt the anxiety that 'if I get cut here, it's all over.'

Even so, it's a place I finally grasped through competition, starting from 'it would be great if I could play one game.' I can't let it go easily.

The only thing I cannot forgive is losing to those below me.

I am a competitive person to the core. That origin lies in my student days.

I was born in Niigata City and started playing rugby at a local club team when I was three years old.

In junior high school, I was selected for the Niigata prefectural team and also served as captain. I think I was doing reasonably well within the prefecture.

My position was fly-half. It might be hard to imagine from how I look now, but I was a back.

At Tenri High School in Nara, which I attended at my parents' recommendation, the first thing I realized was the high level of competition nationwide.

Then, in high school, I switched to the forwards. It wasn't so much that I decided it myself, but rather that I was told to go there. At first, I was a flanker, and eventually, I also started playing hooker.

The problem was the throw.

It is a role exclusive to the hooker, throwing the ball in at the lineout. I was good at passing and kicking, but the motion of throwing a ball from above is something you rarely experience even if you play rugby.

At first, I couldn't throw at all.

So, while being taught by my seniors, I threw constantly. Whether in high school or university, I am confident that I have thrown more than anyone else when it comes to the throw.

In university, there was a period when I was surpassed in the pecking order by a junior who was one year below me.

Losing to an upperclassman is frustrating, but I could still accept it as a difference in experience. However, losing to someone below me was something I could not tolerate.

At that time, at my worst, when practice was over, I had eaten, and it was time to just sleep, my head would start burning on its own thinking, 'Why am I losing?' and I couldn't sleep.

I had experienced not being able to sleep due to pre-match nerves, but it was the first time in my life I couldn't sleep out of frustration.

From then on, I spent all my independent practice time on throwing. Even on my days off, I would go to the field alone and throw.

In the summer of my third year, I finally overtook that junior and grabbed a starting spot. And that year, Tenri University became the national champion for the first time in the All-Japan University Rugby Championship.

I can still say that the moment the victory was decided at the National Stadium was the happiest moment of my life.

It was even more so because it was a victory I reached after competing, having been the second-string player until that summer.

I am not a player blessed with talent.

I am 170 centimeters tall. I am on the smaller side, even among hookers and forwards.

That is precisely why I do more than others. Because I hate to lose, I can keep going.That is everything that has brought me this far.

A feeling that sprouted for the first time at age 27

Let me tell you a story I haven't told anyone.

I want to join the Japan national team. I want to play in a match as a member of the Japan national team.

Recently, I have started to think that way. At 27, it is a feeling I have had for the first time in my life.

Until now, I have had no connection to the Japan national team, including at the age-group level.

In both high school and university, there were always hookers rated higher than me, and the national team was a distant existence, something that would be a miracle if I were chosen.

Even after becoming a professional, it was the era of hookers who were too great, like Shota Horie and Atsushi Sakate, so I couldn't even bring myself to set it as a goal, thinking, 'Someone like me...'

But next year, there is the Rugby World Cup.

During these two years when I couldn't stand on the pitch, I have seen many times players of my generation and younger wearing the cherry blossom jersey and performing well.

For example, Toshiba's Mamoru Harada.

He is a hooker born in 1999, the same year as me. Honestly, even from my perspective, the rotation of his throw is so beautiful that I am jealous.

He is a man of effort, said to have the 'highest amount of practice in Japan,' and I hear he stays in the clubhouse to practice. Even looking at his demeanor, you can tell he is playing with confidence.

A player born in the same year who has fought in the same position is now at the heart of the Japan national team.

I respect him. However, what wells up inside me is not just respect. It is envy and frustration. All at the same time.

What was significant was that I have actually played against them in League One.

It wasn't that I was shown an overwhelming difference in strength. That is why I was able to think honestly: I haven't lost. I don't want to lose.

I think the time I couldn't play didn't just nurture the feeling of 'I want to play in matches.'

Of course, I understand the order of things.

First, I need to win the competition within the team and get into the games. Everything starts there. But beyond that, I want to try being selected for the Japan national team.

A Season of Proof

I believe I have a calm understanding of where I stand right now.

Coming back from injury, the players around me have definitely improved while I was sidelined. I don't think for a second that I'm definitely better than them.

Since I was a child, my parents raised me by telling me, 'Don't get a big head,' so that's ingrained in me.

However, I'm not impatient either. That's because what I need to do is clear.

I will prove it in practice. I will prove it in games. When the chance comes, I will absolutely seize it. I want that opportunity as soon as possible, even if it's just one game. That's all.

Throughout high school and university, I focused solely on 'quantity'.

Now that I'm 27, I want to focus on the 'quality' of each and every action. It might sound like something a veteran would say, but I can say that precisely because I have the pride of having put in the quantity.

My motto is, 'If you're satisfied, you're only declining.'

Right now, I am far from satisfied.

Please keep an eye on Ko Sato this season.I will prove it on the pitch.

[Postscript]
In this note, I plan to write little by little about my origins in Niigata, my family, and how much I love rugby. I would be happy if you could follow me and wait for those updates.