In Dallas, Texas, after Japan's 2-2 draw with the Netherlands in Group F, Japanese supporters once again performed their now-famous post-match ritual: methodically collecting discarded cups, wrappers, and other refuse from the stands, armed with blue rubbish bags. FIFA officials were quick to commend the civic-minded gesture, noting that the Samurai Blue faithful have made such clean-ups a hallmark of their presence at every World Cup since the tradition first captured global attention in France 1998.

The practice is deeply embedded in Japanese culture, reflecting the proverb "tatsu tori ato wo nigosazu" — a bird does not foul the place it leaves. As Italian observers have noted, this ethos extends beyond the terraces: Japanese players themselves are known to leave dressing rooms immaculate, sometimes even folding towels or crafting origami figures as a gesture of gratitude. It is a lesson instilled from childhood, a collective sense of responsibility that persists regardless of the match result.

Yet the scene in Texas contrasted sharply with the atmosphere elsewhere. In Mexico, the Estadio Alfonso Lastras broadcast the same Japan-Netherlands match to a virtually deserted stadium, the empty stands and a poorly maintained pitch foreshadowing the impending Liga MX season. Viewed from Tokyo, the muted domestic hype for this World Cup—partly attributed to a less formidable Japanese side and the soaring popularity of baseball stars like Shohei Ohtani in the US major leagues—has not dampened the fans' commitment to their off-pitch duties. The cleaning ritual, analysts suggest, has become a quiet statement of national identity on a global stage, even when the team's prospects are uncertain.

As the tournament unfolds across three host nations, the Japanese supporters' tidiness will likely continue to earn plaudits, a soft-power display that transcends sport. But the empty seats in some venues raise questions about the World Cup's ability to sustain universal fervour in an increasingly fragmented media landscape. For Japan's fans, however, the broom remains as important as the ball — a reminder that how one leaves a place speaks volumes.