Rion Ichihara and the Patience Gamble at AZ Alkmaar: When 'Why Not Me' Is Not Enough to Open the Door

Winter in Alkmaar is cold in the same way a young footballer sits waiting on the bench. Rion Ichihara, 21, enters his second season at AZ Alkmaar with one question lodged in his chest: if not now, then when? The Japanese centre-back told media back home he does not feel absolutely inferior to anyone. "Why not me?" he asks himself, then turns it into daily fuel on the training pitch. But the career of a 21-year-old centre-back in the Eredivisie is not decided by inspiration. It is decided by minutes, by the manager's trust, and by a little luck arriving at the right moment. Summer 2026 taught me one thing: people remember the shock merchant more than the contract. And in Ichihara's case, what stands out most right now is the almost unbelievable patience of a 21-year-old.

Context: a development club, a season that must deliver

AZ Alkmaar are no giant. They sit in the Eredivisie's European-qualification group, behind PSV, Ajax and Feyenoord in the title race. AZ's model has long been develop-and-sell: train young players, give them a stage, then sell them to bigger leagues. The Europa League is Europe's second-tier competition, one rung above the Conference League, and a place where squad players can show themselves to scouts.

Ichihara is entering his second season. In his first he had few chances. This one, in his own words, is a season that must deliver results. He refuses to use reality as an excuse. That is the most striking thing about a 21-year-old. At that age, many would blame the manager, teammates, bad luck. Ichihara says plainly: the manager decides, and he must prove himself in every session. Japanese media are tracking him through a multi-part series, tied to a streaming promotion. The narrative heat is rising while his minutes remain a question mark.

The path from a Japanese academy to a mid-tier European club has never been easy. The Eredivisie has long been seen as an ideal landing spot for Asian players: not too punishing physically, rewarding technique and tactical thinking, with enough media reach to open doors to bigger leagues. But because it is ideal, it is also crowded.

Analysis: the vicious circle of a young centre-back

Here is where I pause. European football runs on a cruel logic: young players only exist when they prove value in the brief windows they are given. A centre-back is not a striker. A striker can come on at minute 80, score, and change his life. A centre-back must start, understand the system, build chemistry with a partner. Nobody hands a starting spot to a centre-back just because he trains well. Trust must be built through full matches, and full matches only come once trust exists. That is the circle every young centre-back must break.

Ichihara stands before that circle. He says he is not absolutely inferior to the starting centre-backs. I believe that in raw ability. But the gap between "not inferior" and "selected" in professional football is enormous. A manager does not pick the best player. He picks the one he trusts most. And trust, in football, is built on stability and experience, two things a 21-year-old cannot yet have enough of.

Three doors could open. First, injury or suspension to the first-choice centre-backs - the most common breakthrough, and the cruellest, because it comes from someone else's misfortune. Second, the Europa League and domestic cup, where squads rotate to protect starters. Third, the Asian Games, where Japan's U23 side may give him a stage to prove himself before a home audience.

But I must say this plainly: a young centre-back's window is narrower than people think. If minutes are still counted on one hand by mid-season, the story shifts. From "challenger" to "needs a move." From "why not me" to "maybe I should go elsewhere." That is the law of European football, and no amount of inspiration changes it. His contract status is not public, and that is the quietly most important variable. One year left could turn this season into a sprint; three years would grant him the right to be patient.

Another overlooked point. Japanese players in Europe are usually recruited for passing and mobility, not physicality. That suits possession-heavy systems but leaves them exposed in battles that demand strength and aerial duels. If AZ lean physical, Ichihara's door is narrower than the minutes suggest.

Contrarian angle: the 'in-between' nobody wants to mention

People talk about young players in two words: breakout or bust. Either he breaks through or he is forgotten. I think that is lazy. The truth is most players neither break through nor bust. They simply sit in between - playing enough to exist, not enough to stand out. And in that in-between, fate is decided not by talent but by choice. Stay patient, or leave for minutes? Every young Japanese player in Europe must answer that.

A correct hot-take does not make a name. A wrong one, at the right moment, becomes legend. I am not predicting whether Ichihara succeeds or fails. I am saying this: how he handles the waiting will shape his whole career. Players who endure waiting without breaking, without bitterness, without demanding an early exit - those players tend to last. Ichihara says his first goal is to avoid injury and stay involved. It sounds modest. For a 21-year-old centre-back in Europe, it is smart. Opportunity only reaches the man still standing on the pitch when it knocks.

Notably, Ichihara himself cooled the national-team talk. He said he is closer than in his J2 days but not truly close, and must outperform the centre-backs currently called up. That is rare clarity. Media tends to push the story faster than reality. A good player is one who keeps his own rhythm.

What it is worth thinking about

If you ask me how Ichihara will turn out, I will not answer with a prediction. I will answer with a question: what happens to a young player who is patient in the right way but never gets the chance? Maybe the answer lies next season, or at another club, or in another league. Either way, his journey reminds us that behind every name on the transfer ticker is a person trying not to lose himself in the waiting. At 42, I still write as if every match is the last I will ever live - and I believe a 21-year-old in Alkmaar is living every training session the same way.