Japan’s World Cup Dream - Rabbi Hillel Eisenberg

Here's a story about the World Cup that most people have never heard of. It's the early 1990s. Almost every country on Earth is obsessed with soccer. Children are playing in the streets of Brazil. The stadiums in England are overflowing. Italy lives and breathes the sport. Argentina worships it. The World Cup is the biggest sporting event on the planet. And then all the way at the bottom, there was Japan. A nation known for its precision and discipline and excellence. A country that went from being literally flattened in World War II into one of the greatest economic powers on Earth with the best cars and the best electronics and the best technology. But in soccer, they stunk. They had never qualified for a World Cup. They didn't have a thriving professional league. They weren't producing world-class soccer players. When the soccer world talked about contenders, nobody talked about Japan. And if you know anything about the Japanese culture, they don't exactly sit comfortably with mediocrity. So in 1992, leaders of Japanese soccer leagues gathered together for a meeting in Tokyo. And the agenda was simple. How do we fix Japanese soccer? And everyone in the room expected the usual conversation. Hire a better coach. Recruit better players. Copy whatever Europe was doing. Get better training equipment. But then one executive rose and he asked for everyone's attention. And the room went quiet. He said, "I think we're asking the wrong question. We all need to forget about winning the next World Cup or even the one after that. We need to stop trying to become a great soccer team. We need to start becoming a great soccer nation." Then the man made a proposal that sounded absurd. "What if we commit ourselves to a 100-year vision? What if everything we do from this day forward is aimed at making Japan a country capable of winning the World Cup in 100 years from now? Not in 4 years. Not in 8 years. I am proposing a plan that will make Japan win a World Cup in 100 years from today." And the room goes silent. Did he just say 100 years from now? You can imagine the shock of these people. Yes, 100 years. We need to stop building a team. We need to start building a culture. We need youth academies and professional coaching and community clubs and fields for children. We need to develop a pipeline that will produce talent for generations. We shouldn't try to create 11 great players now. We should try to create a nation where great players will never stop being produced. And here's the amazing part. It actually worked. On May 15th, 1993, the Japanese league kicked off with packed stadiums. Just 5 years later in 1998, Japan qualified for its first ever World Cup. In 2002, they hosted the World Cup and reached the round of of 16. Since 1998, they've qualified for every single World Cup and they haven't looked back since. Today, Japan is no longer viewed as a soccer minnow. It's one of the strongest football nations in Asia producing world-class players who compete in Europe's biggest leagues. What once seemed impossible became expected. Why? Because they stopped trying to change overnight and realized that change takes time. Now, let me ask you something. Let's be honest. Do you have a long-term plan for your spiritual success? Do you have an actual plan to conquer lashon hara? Not just, "I really should work on it." A real plan. Do you have a real plan to finish Chumash with Rashi every year? Do you have an actual plan to improve your tefillah? Not just a, "Hey, I feel kind of guilty every time I skim through psukei dezimra without a clue what I'm saying. Maybe one day I'll figure it out." No, no, no. Like an actual plan. Do you Do you have a plan to become more patient? To become a better husband? A better wife? A better parent? A better Jew? Because that's what the Japanese understood. People don't become great by accident. They become great by design. The Japanese didn't just hope their soccer team would improve. [music] They built a system with a structure and a road map, and it worked. And that's because human beings thrive inside of structure. Think about every area of life. They all have structure. Schools have curriculum. A business has a business plan. Architects have blueprints. Pilots [music] have flight plans. Athletes have training schedules. Nobody who wants to accomplish something important says, [music] "You know what? I'm just going to wing it." Yet somehow, when it comes to becoming the spiritual people that we dream of becoming, many of us have no road map at all. We might have dreams. We might have good intentions. We might have inspiration, but many people don't have a plan on how to act on that inspiration long-term. If I asked you where you hope to be spiritually 5 years from now, could you tell me how exactly you're planning on getting there? Growth isn't something you stumble into. It's something you build one decision, one habit, one commitment, one day at a time. So many people become discouraged because they don't say they don't see immediate success in their spiritual goals. They had these high hopes for their kavana and tfila. They wanted to live a life without lashon hara. They've been trying to become more patient and more grateful and more giving, but because they aren't where they hoped they'd be after 4 months, they start thinking, "You know what? Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I'll never change. Maybe that's just not who I am." But maybe that's looking at it all wrong. If Japan adopted a 100-year vision for soccer, why do we expect to conquer ourselves in 6 months? Look at yourself as having a 120-year plan for your spiritual World Cup. Why are you declaring yourself a failure at age 19 or at age 27 [music] or at age 44? The story's not over. You're still becoming the person Hashem created you to be, and that's why Hashem didn't just give us goals, he gave us a structure. The Torah is the greatest framework for personal growth ever given to humanity. A daily schedule of mitzvahs with a rhythm of tefillah and weekly shabbat and yearly yom and tayvim, which are constant opportunities to learn and grow and refine ourselves. Hashem didn't just leave us fumbling around in the dark hoping somehow we'd someway become great. No, he gave us a road map. Our job isn't to become perfect overnight. Our job is to trust the process and keep walking through it. Structure doesn't limit a person, it liberates a person. It turns dreams into destinations. Maybe the greatest question you should be asking isn't what kind of Jew do I want to be? Maybe it's what's my plan in getting there.