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Forget about popularity, forget about people wanting me to win. If I said, ‘Put up your own money—bet wrong, and you lose half your net worth,’ how many people would actually bet on me? I get it.
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// Chapter 5
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"I've realized that in the end, all that matters is whether I want to beat the opponent or not."
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Last month, in mid-March, Umehara says he met with Mena and spoke in person. The meeting was prompted by Mena’s strong desire to convey his feelings about the match directly. Umehara described the scene on his stream, so I’ll skip the details here, but I highly recommend giving the highlight a watch. It’s required viewing for anyone planning to watch the match.
“Yeah, it’s about circumstance. Here’s a guy who’s so perfectly suited for the current competitive scene, and he goes out of his way to come tell me our FT10 takes precedence for him. That’s like if an Ivy League elite quit his job to come work for my company. ‘Gee, are you sure? I don’t make any money.’ ‘Yes, even still. Even if I have to set my whole career aside.’ At least, that’s how I took it. I mean, when is a situation like this ever going to come along again? So we’re doing it. Man, I’m just so grateful.”
Getting to experience the satisfaction of a long-format set with one of the current era’s top players is a rare opportunity, and one that has allowed Umehara to be uncompromising in his daily pursuit of improvement. On the other hand, he may have been trying not to think too hard about the feelings of his opponent. Even determination is a spectrum, and there was no guarantee both players’ feelings would be on the same page. By nature, Umehara is someone who doesn’t like to depend on others, so perhaps he had been keeping a tight lid on any expectations of his opponent. And maybe that’s why he’s all the happier now. One thing is for certain: this young player’s passion is what created the perfect “circumstances” for this fight.
“There are various aspects to fighting game talent—control technique, analytical thinking, a good memory. That’s like your engine. The engine is important, but separately, there’s also the matter of your environment. I’m sure this is true in many fields. I feel like eras are shaped by the people whose current environment has given them a ‘full gas tank.’”
Over the last several years in the competitive scene, Daigo has spent his days juggling the busy schedules of the Capcom Pro Tour and Street Fighter League. The main thing fueling his drive to keep up with this heavy workload has been a sense of responsibility and duty—a far cry from his mindset in the days when the arcades were the heart of the scene.
“I guess I’m not very well suited to having things managed and working within a routine. Opportunities like this are a reminder of that. I like when an interesting opponent calls up out of the blue to do something, and you don’t know when it might happen again. I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
Umehara’s story began with a boy who could barely be bothered to attend school, spending his time at the arcade instead. Now, that same boy who seemed unlikely to ever warm up to conformity has become a dutiful observer of the rational and methodical modern pro scene. It’s a bit of a comical sight, but perhaps a heartbreaking one as well. One man’s tragedy is another man’s comedy.
“Y’know, I’ve thought about that. It’s an insane thing to do, devoting your teens—the most critical time of your life—to arcades and fighting games, without any idea what’s going to happen. Of course that person isn’t going to be able to adapt perfectly to this situation, if you think about it. (Laughs)”
There isn’t a trace of apprehension in his words. That likely speaks to just how fulfilling it has been preparing for the Mena fight. Umehara, a known manga lover, says he’s started to feel a strong kinship with a certain comic character in recent years:
“Izou Motobe [from Baki the Grappler]—I know exactly how Motobe feels. He’s so at odds with everyone else, you know? At the Maximum Tournament, he gets taken out by a rando. On the other hand, he still beats the death row convicts and tries to protect people stronger than himself. It’s like he’s completely out of sync, y’know, like at his core he just doesn’t see things in black and white the way they do [in a tournament setting]. (Laughs)”
Baki is a hit martial arts manga series where an eclectic cast of characters compete to determine who is the toughest fighter. One particularly unique character in the series is Izou Motobe. As the core cast of characters test their mettles in the arena, Motobe plays the role of a trickster, falling out of step with the times to pursue his own solitary path. The more serious he becomes, the further out of step he falls. He’s at once somehow humorous and endearing.
To be frank, I have my doubts about whether a younger Umehara would have empathized with such a character. Back when he exuded an aura that seemed to say, “Get too close and I’ll cut you down,” he probably wouldn’t have found the character very interesting. Maybe this offers another glimpse at how the years of experience have shaped him.
“It’s been a while since I’ve really gone for broke, and that’s what I want to do. I’ve realized that in the end, all that matters is whether I want to beat the opponent or not. If some guy I didn’t know anything about showed up asking for an FT10, no matter how good he was, I wouldn’t be this emotionally invested. It has to be someone whose feelings toward fighting games are pure. Back in [Kemonomichi #2], Tokido had that in spades.”
I want to beat him.
It’s an emotion perhaps no longer necessary in the well-established competitive scene. It may even be counterproductive when one is trying to optimize their performance for scheduled, large-scale tournaments. But to Umehara, that feeling was the origin. That was what made it fun. It was the only goal. Everything began there. Umehara has returned home.
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// Chapter 6
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"So, I feel like now is the time for me to see what I can do, see how far I can go."
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A quick web search will quickly yield comments disparaging Umehara as past his prime, and if you take the cynical view, you might argue that “legend” is just a synonym for “old person who’s reached the end of the road.” Many are saying that if he loses this fight, it will be the end of his career. Does that not scare him?
“I don’t see the fight as a scary thing. I just want it to hurry up and get here. And yet, part of me doesn’t, because I’m getting so much fulfillment out of this every day. If I could keep doing this forever, I suppose I would.”
Outweighing his excitement is a desire for these fulfilling days to never end. Part of the reason I had posed my question was to see if I could get a read on emotional state, but Umehara maintained an aloof air.
In past FT10s and other long-format fights, Umehara has never hidden his confidence: “Just you wait and see what I have in store.” But this time, he’s not being very forthcoming about his specific state of mind or emotion.
Later, I barraged him with questions about where he his head was regarding the match itself, but he remained rather subdued. Perhaps fed up with my pestering, he finally broke his silence, if only briefly.
“I’m still treating it like I’m waging a ‘fight,’ but [since meeting Mena], it’s taken on a somewhat different significance. I want to keep grinding and figuring things out until the very last minute. I don’t want to settle for ‘good enough.’ Of course, this is only possible thanks to the fact that the people helping me out feel the same way and are generating ideas for me without compromise.”
We know Umehara likely sensed Mena’s determination during their encounter, but what does it matter if the “significance” has changed? That doesn’t change the goal of winning, nor the methods required to achieve it. For Umehara, however, the final and indeed most important question is just as he says: “Do I want to beat him?”
As usual, his expression is serene. Very well, then. His feelings will continue to grow until the time comes. Meanwhile, even his silence speaks volumes about his morale. Besides, at this point, there’s no need for discussion. Let the fight do all the talking. Isn’t that how it works? He’s probably at least as eager for this match as he was for other major bouts in the past, if not more, and that’s almost certainly linked to memories of his cherished boyhood days.
Anyone who experienced it knows the thrill of heading to the arcade when you had a worthy opponent. How should I fight today? Here’s an idea I want to try out. I wonder if he’ll be there. Such thoughts would run through your mind the whole way there. It never crossed your mind that you might suffer a painful defeat. As you got closer to the arcade, your feet would pick up the pace, until finally you opened the door and immediately found yourself in another world, bellowing with BGM. Weak players, strong players, known faces and strangers—everyone had a unique hope in their heart and a coin to insert. Playing matches, talking with friends. This wasn’t only Umehara’s experience—it was a bliss doled out equally to every fighting gamer. A thrilling euphoria that trumped all else, leaving no room for anxiety or woe.
“[People may say I’ve lost my edge], but there’s always been a part of me that won’t tolerate defeat when I get serious, and I think that’s the part that’s kept me going all this time. Now is the time to prove that, but… It’s just that the conditions required to produce this feeling are too random. I’m probably not going to get any more chances in life to play with the same feeling I had in my teens. So, I feel like now is the time for me to see what I can do, see how far I can go.”
A premonition that there will be no more returning to that place. A resignation that this euphoria is sure to end, likely never to be experienced again. Because he senses that this is his last hurrah, Umehara savors the time left before the fight is over. For those who know their destiny, there is loneliness and fulfillment.
Flowers for Daigo Umehara.
—Let’s see, how can I put it? What I’ve realized is that it’s not that I just wanted to make a living off fighting games, it’s that I wanted to make a living playing them the way I love.
—Yeah, that’s why I still see fighting games as a form of communication. And I probably always will.
—To put it dramatically, when I was a kid, video games almost felt like something I’d received straight from God.
—I feel genuinely grateful to Mena. You know? I mean, getting to feel this way again. I’m really thankful.
Once upon a time, it was just a nameless street. That place, where those drawn to the thrill of fighting games gathered to take delight and stoke their passions, has transformed into a bustling thoroughfare. Out with the old, in with the new. The wheel of time turns. To everything there is a season, and to this there are no exceptions. Is that time upon us, or not? What will change, and what will stay the same? Nobody knows what outcome awaits.
—Forget about popularity, forget about people wanting me to win. If I said, ‘Put up your own money—bet wrong, and you lose half your net worth,’ how many people would actually bet on me? I get it. When you consider our track records, I know anyone in their right mind would bet on Mena. But I’m also the only one who really knows myself. And that’s why I’m so excited.
Let us embark upon the great unknown, armed with knowledge of self.—
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text by Maki Tomoi
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