Time to Kick Some Olympic Ass!

I can't imagine a nation as sports loco as Japan.

Example: If Shohei Ohtani homers twice in one game, that could well be the lead story on the nightly news. No kidding. When it comes to sports and sports heroes, Japan can and will froth at the mouth.

And we are soon to enter high froth season, with the 2026 Winter Olympics due to commence in northern Italy on Feb. 6^th.

With that in mind, below is a pre-Olympic column from 2008, when the Summer Games were held in Beijing.

Some notes:

The fictional character of “Mariko” is based on a dear friend with an effervescent zeal for teaching. She has a bookshelf full of published texts and for a few years even hosted her own show on NHK’s public television channel, NHK being the Japanese national broadcaster. “Mariko” is a person of style and grace and humor.

I served as a collaborator/editor for some of her productions. She would often invite me to dinner when launching a new project. The conversation here is not so dissimilar to one we actually had.

The Japanese phrase Mariko is struggling with is, "Gambare!" A common Japanese imperative which is often translated stiffly as, "Go for broke!" A simpler try would just be, "Go!" or "Fight!"

English communication in Japan has improved much over the years, but many instructors remain tied to archaic expressions that they learned from their own teachers when young, or to terms they themselves shoveled up from some pile of fossilized phrasing.

Of course, all this dictionary dancing is now passe. Thumbing through Noah Webster has been replaced by dialing up AI.

The expression "kick ass" is new here. In 2008, The Japan Times softened the phrase to "kick butt."

This time, my title is “Time to Kick Some Olympic Ass!” The Japan Times title – which is also part of the column – is just below.

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"Go for Broke, Japan!"

Jul 19, 2008

The person shouting this is a close friend, a Japanese English instructor who — with looping earrings, sliding bracelets and multi-ringed fingers — displays more metal than a brass band.

She's noisier too, with a big-eyed, rubber-tongued enthusiasm for her work.

I wish she'd lend me some of her energy. Instead, I settle for pasta and wine. Lots of wine.

Here's the deal: Every so often she buys me dinner and in return I give a glance to her teaching material, original dialogs and sentences which she will soon gurgle out to learners of all sorts, from teens to septuagenarians, who adore her for English teaching gusto.

And this time the gusto's gone wild. For she's scrambled it with Olympic fever.

"This month we cheer the Olympic team. Like this: 'Go for broke, Japan! Go for broke!'"

She raises her arms and rattles her bracelets. The waiter glances our way, and I signal for more wine. Urgently.

She lowers her arms. "You don't like it? Why?"

I gulp my wine. I have been here before.

"Mariko, your dialog's fine. But people don't talk that way. No one screams, 'Go for broke' these days. Especially as a group. We'd just say, 'Go, Japan!' "

She wrinkles her nose. "'Go, Japan' is boring."

"But it's real English."

"'What's wrong with 'Go for broke'? It's in the dictionary."

"As are many expressions. But we have other ways to say things. You want to communicate, right?"

"Why do you put things in the dictionary that you don't use?"

I pour more wine.

"It's like the conversation we had last time about 'dilly-dally.' Or the time before that with 'jeepers-peepers.' Or whatever. Just because a term is in the dictionary, doesn't mean it fits."

"If I can't trust my dictionary, who can I trust?"

"You're assuming the dictionary is a translator and it's not."

"I knew you'd say that. You always say that."

I do indeed. And like many teachers here, she always pushes vaudeville-aged English, fished up from some stagnant pool in her dictionary.

Now she brightens and tries again.

"Okay, how's this— The Japanese team comes marching in, the flags are waving, and my students stand and roar, 'Show them what you're made of, Japan!' "

"No. Too stiff."

"Okay. They roar, 'Do your damndest!'"

"Uh, no."

"Shoot the works!"

"No."

"Die trying!"

I almost spit wine and have to fumble with my napkin.

"Why do I even ask?" she pouts. "You hate the entire dictionary."

"You ask because you want a native speaker's know-how. You can't teach from a dictionary."

"Okay, Mr. Native Speaker, teach me what to say. Something fun. Something other than, "Go, Japan!"

"Alright… How about… Um… 'Kick ass.'"

"Kick ass?"

"Yes. 'Kick ass.' It's both colloquial and fun."

She frowns.

"Half of my students are over 70. I am not going to have them stand and shout, 'Kick ass!' It's undignified. Unless we can change it to something more respectable. Like, 'Pulverize their backsides!'"

I drink more wine. I fear this will turn worse than our earlier struggle with "dilly-dally." Which she pronounced as "dirry-darry."

She spies another foreigner in the corner. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man pauses with spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

"Do you ever tell anyone to kick ass?"

The man turns to check whether she has spoken to someone else. But to his rear is only wallpaper.

"Kick ass? Oh, heavens no. I've never even heard of it."

"Oh c'mon," I throw at him. "People say 'Kick ass' all the time. You know, like 'Go, team! Kick ass!' "

"Oh," he says, with his fork still in hand. "You mean like, 'Go for broke?' "

"See!" says Mariko "See!"

"No one says, 'Go for broke.' Not as a cheer."

"Oh, but I do. Or perhaps, 'Show them what you're made of!'"

I put my head down.

Mariko fires, "Or how about, 'Do your damndest!'"

"Yes, if I was excited. Or maybe, 'Give it the old college try!'"

"That's good." Mariko takes furious notes.

"No, that's not good," I say. "What's in your spaghetti sauce? Bourbon? All of those are awkward or out of date."

"They are?" he says. "Well, jeepers-peepers."

"Sir," says Mariko. "Why don't you join us? I need your insight."

He hesitates. Mariko turns on her best bracelet-rattling charm while I gulp wine.

"Okay, sure," he says. "My pleasure."

Mariko whispers as the man gathers his things: "I like this guy. He kicks ass. He's what a native speaker's supposed to be."

I tell her he's not a native speaker.

"How do you know?"

"Because," I whisper back, "He's got dictionary English, like yours. Just watch."

"Nice to meet you," says the man as he sits down. And then he adds with a distant smile…

"So sorry to dilly-dally."

Jeepers, Peepers!

PS: For this year's Winter Games, I've decided to cheer for one nation in particular. Go for broke, Denmark! Go for broke!

© Thomas Noah Wood

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