The Twilight of the Revolution and the Quagmire of Scouting: Memories of JEF United Ichihara Chiba in J2, Part 9

Chapter 9 | The Twilight of the Revolution and the Quagmire of Scouting (2018–2019)

Prologue | We can catch up, but we can't hold on

February 25, 2018, Ajinomoto Stadium.
From the opening match, JEF showed everything that would symbolize the next two years in just 90 minutes.
Nine minutes in. A long feed from Tokyo Verdy slips behind the final line. Tatsuya Masushima, who went to stop the breakaway Douglas Vieira, is shown a straight red card. The center-back duo of Kondo and Masushima, who supported Kashiwa Reysol's J1 title run. The season where Masushima, a local from Ubuhamacho, returned to Fukuda Denshi Arena, began with the team forced to play with 10 men right from the start.
Even so, JEF did not back down.
“Go from the front!”
Responding to the bench's shouts, the press actually became more organized after going down to 10 men. Yada distributed, Takagi crossed, and Tameda volleyed. Chajima cut into the center, and Kondo aimed with a header from a corner kick. There was a period where they pushed Tokyo Verdy back so hard it didn't feel like they were at a numerical disadvantage.
48th minute of the second half, they concede.
But no one had given up.
86th minute. A header from Larrivey, who made a long run into the box to meet Chajima's cross. Equalizer. The Ajinomoto Stadium went silent for a moment. In that instant, having caught up with 10 men, the stands must have surely thought:
“This is JEF in 2018.”
—But, immediately after that.
90th minute. From a corner kick, Hatakenaka pushed it in, and they conceded again. 1–2.
We can catch up, but we can't hold on.
These few minutes were a distillation of JEF over the past two years.

1-0 | 2018 — The year we scored 72 goals, conceded 72 goals, and arrived nowhere

Looking only at the roster, JEF in 2018 was a team where “you couldn't find a reason why they wouldn't go up.”
In the final line were Naoya Kondo and Tatsuya Masushima, who had once led Kashiwa Reysol to a J1 title. Moreover, Masushima was a local from Ubuhamacho.
“Kashiwa's golden center-back duo has returned to Fukuda Denshi Arena” — just that fact alone had the stands feeling somewhat giddy before the season started.
But that expectation was brutally betrayed even before the season began.
The Chiba Derby Cup in February. The opponent was that same Kashiwa. The result was a 1–4 crushing defeat. The opening match, held while dragging that unpleasant atmosphere, ended in a 1–2 loss with Masushima's straight red card. The league campaign saw no wins through the fourth round. A buzz of unspoken anxiety was already spreading through the stands.
Even so, in the 5th round, they exploded for a 6–1 win against Kamatamare Sanuki.
“As expected, this football is unstoppable when it clicks.”
From a compactly organized line, the moment they won the ball, they were already in front of the goal. A time where only “receptions” that lead to attacks—neither offense nor defense—chained together. Goals went in one after another.
Takayuki Funayama scored 19 goals, Larrivey 11, and Hisashi Jogo 9. The team's total of 72 goals was among the best in the league.

1-1 | Dominating, then getting punched — The 0-4 Oita match showed the “reality of J2”

But the cruelty of this football becomes most blatant on days when the goals don't come.
April 1. Oita Bank Dome. The opponent was Oita Trinita.
JEF held the ball. If the opponent sat back, they would pass slowly, push forward, and look for holes. The high press functioned from the start, and they created chances repeatedly.
Still, it wouldn't go in.
And then, in the 19th minute. A mishandled back pass.
GK Rodriguez had the ball stolen, and they conceded.
“It wasn't bad until 0-1” — despite the content being such, the score had already moved in an “unpleasant way.”
In the second half, they switched to a 4-3-3 to shake things up. Bringing on Tameda and Yada to ignite the front line.
58th minute, Yamato Machida broke through, rounded the keeper, and faced an empty goal—
But the shot hit the crossbar.
If only they had equalized there.
The story of the match might have changed.
But J2 on this day did not allow for such “ifs.”
64th minute. Caught on a quick restart on the right side, they conceded a second.
67th minute. Right side again. Consecutive goals conceded.
89th minute. The final blow, 0-4.
Possession was high. Passes were moving. There were times they pushed forward.
Still, the result was a complete defeat.
This match is often dismissed with the phrase “difference in finishing ability.”
But the essence is different.
Esnaider's football was structured such that the longer they held the ball, the more they would be repeatedly struck by the blade of a counterattack the moment anxiety appeared.
And J2 does not miss those “stabbing points.”
Win, and it's a revolution. Miss, and it's an execution.
This 0-4 was a match that mercilessly visualized the rules of the world JEF lived in during 2018.
They also conceded 72 goals.
No matter how many they scored, they conceded just as many. Without ever entering the top ten, JEF finished the season in 14th place.
It was flashy, interesting, and there were many moments that made you think “next time for sure.”
But all of that was sucked into the same hole—the space behind the defense—and vanished.

2-0 | 2019 — The wreckage of the revolution and the return of Ejirism

JEF in 2019 started having lost almost all the skeleton that supported the “madness” of 2018.
Yamato Machida to Matsumoto. Naoya Kondo to Tokyo Verdy. Koki Kiyotake to Tokushima. Hisashi Jogo to Shonan. Larrivey was also gone.
As if to add insult to injury, Kashiwa Reysol descended into J2.
They won the Chiba Derby Cup after a penalty shootout. But that victory was not a continuation of the revolution, but merely a consolation that clung to memories of the past.
When the league began, reality immediately bared its fangs. They couldn't win. The high line didn't function, and the attack didn't click. By the end of the 4th round, Esnaider was dismissed.
The successor was, once again, Atsuhiko Ejiri. The return of Ejirism. But this time, it wasn't a rebuilding. It was the most difficult job of all: cleaning up the rubble of a revolution.
They lowered the defensive line, trying to close the “dead plains” of the space behind. But the team, optimized for the sport of madness, had forgotten “normal football.”
The attack was a distorted structure relying on Kleber's 17 goals and Funayama's 11 goals for almost all their scoring. The team's total goals were 46. Goals conceded were 64.
August was 0 wins and 4 losses. It was a month where they completely sank.

2-1 | Searching for an “answer” and getting punched again — August 24, Kofu 0-3

August 24, Fukuda Denshi Arena.
The opponent was Ventforet Kofu.
If we can't change the flow here, we're in real trouble—everyone thought so.
In the first half, JEF wasn't bad.
They formed a block in a 4-2-3-1, playing from Kleber's hold-up play to the wings.
Horigome's cross, Chajima's run behind.
In the 39th minute, they even created a decisive chance where Chajima was one-on-one with the keeper.
But, once again, it wouldn't go in.
60th minute of the second half. Conceded from a loose ball off a corner kick.
74th minute. Overwhelmed by Utaka's individual skill, they conceded a second.
81st minute. A direct free kick was buried, 0-3.
The content hadn't fallen apart.
But in tight situations, they couldn't hold on, and the moment they tried to lift their heads, they conceded again.
Kohei Kudo's words told the whole story of JEF that year.
“We keep repeating matches where we concede when we need to hold on.”
“As a team and as individuals, we are looking for solutions, but we can't quite reach an answer.”
With this defeat, it was four consecutive losses.
For Atsuhiko Ejiri, who was entrusted with the “aftermath of the revolution,”
it was a night that clearly brought home the fact that this team no longer knew what to rely on to fight.

2-2 | A defeat that symbolizes the year — Yuto Sato's final 90 minutes

November 24. Fukuda Denshi Arena.
The opponent was Tochigi SC.
And this day was also the retirement match for the man who symbolized the club JEF Chiba,
Yuto Sato.
Tochigi, fighting for survival, sat everyone in a low position.
JEF held the ball, connecting in the final line, while
continuing to search for “that moment” to insert a vertical pass.
14th minute, Miki's long-range shot.
17th minute, Ebert's long shot.
44th minute, Yonekura's cross from Arai's vertical pass.
The content wasn't bad. But—it wouldn't go in.
The same pattern continued in the second half.
68th minute.
Manager Atsuhiko Ejiri brought on Yuto Sato for Miki,
and Tatsuya Masushima for the injured Ebert.
It was the moment Fukuda Denshi Arena clearly remembered “the meaning of this day.”
Sato stood on the pitch.
The final 90 minutes for the man who had carried this club for 10 years.
But reality was cruel.
The set piece immediately after.
Tochigi defender Masaya Tashiro's diving header shook the goal net.
0-1.
In the 82nd minute, Hisato Sato was also brought on,
and JEF aimed for a goal until the very end.
But—on this day too, no goal was born.
Yuto Sato's retirement match was not decorated with a victory.
With this defeat, Tochigi secured their survival in J2,
and JEF finished 2019 in 17th place with 43 points, 10 wins, 13 draws, and 19 losses,
the lowest ranking in club history.
Takayuki Yonekura's words reflected the current state of this team perfectly.
“I think we've become too used to losing.”
That the hero's final pitch
became a place that forced them to face “reality” rather than “hope.”
That was the final destination of the two-year Esnaider revolution.

3 | Esnaider and Postecoglou

In 2018, a revolution of high-pressing and high-lining had also begun at Yokohama F. Marinos. Ange Postecoglou. Fullbacks moving inside. A structure that gathers people in the center and keeps possession of the ball. While maintaining a high line, the positioning itself functions as a “device to recover the space behind” — the so-called “Ange Ball.”
And that revolution eventually brought Yokohama its first league title in 15 years.
Even though they are spoken of in the same terms, why did the results diverge?
The difference was the “prescription” for the moment the space behind was pierced.
Marinos's breakthroughs are supported by organizational prediction.
JEF's breakthroughs were supported by individual resolve.
Esnaider was not without a plan; he entrusted the care of the space behind to the mobility of GK Yuya Sato. But the moment the high press was peeled off, the opponent could kick into the space behind freely. Yuya Sato was forced to make “do-or-die” rushes against balls where he didn't know when or where they would come.
Even with the same high line, one was a system, the other was a duel.
That is where their fates diverged.

4 | Summary — J2 is a “scouting society”

J2 is a league where, from the moment a weakness is shared, everyone brings the same blade.
JEF's weakness was easy to understand. The vast space behind the high line.
Peel off the front-line press.
At that moment, put one ball behind.
If the GK comes out, use the space behind or to the side of him.
If the CB returns, keep wearing down their speed and judgment.
Of course, JEF was not without a plan.
Yuya Sato clears it. The CBs win on reading.
But having a “countermeasure” and being able to “keep enduring” were different issues.
A structure that accumulates several “do-or-die” moments every match will inevitably become distorted on a seasonal basis.
2017 was a surprise attack.
2018 was a known defect.
2019, it became a winning path for the opponent.

Epilogue | Even so, the football that captivates

High-pressing and high-lining are spoken of as a type of football tactic.
But watching JEF in 2018–2019, I thought many times.
Does this look like football, or is half of it already a different sport?
Once peeled off, a 30-40 meter no-man's land.
If you can't get back, it's over. If you hesitate, it's over.
Victory or defeat is decided not by tactical understanding, but by how many times you can force the “impossible” in each match.
That is precisely why the explosive power when it clicked was real.
A compact line. Receptions that lead to attacks. Goals going in one after another.
Whether they won or lost, there were many moments that made you think, “Oh, it might go in again now.”
Esnaider's revolution had the power to turn football into a different sport.
That is precisely why—perhaps it could not survive for long within the reality that is J2.
In the same year, while holding up the same words, the revolution was completed in Yokohama, and the revolution broke in Chiba.
Perhaps that is not a story about Esnaider being wrong.
It's just—that the place where his football would bloom happened not to be Fukuda Denshi Arena.
It might have been just that kind of story.
【Chapter 9 End】