Attending the Tokyo Olympics in person was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime moment for thousands of fans in Japan, including the parents of some of the world’s top athletes.

Learning that the moment will never come was a tremendous heartbreaker.

Masakazu Watanabe, 53, was all set to watch his son compete just a few weeks from now.

He had purchased tickets through the lottery system and a travel agency for seven badminton sessions at the Olympics that his son Yuta, 24, a member of the national badminton team, is expected to compete in.

The venue where Yuta will play is not far from where Watanabe lives.

“I can bike there if I try hard enough,” he said.

Watanabe planned to complete his vaccinations before the events to lower the infection risk. But the preparations turned out to be all for nothing.

He, like the many other Tokyo Olympic ticketholders and volunteers, had waited breathlessly for more than a year for the day they could be part of the Games.

But then, late on July 8, Seiko Hashimoto, the head of the Tokyo organizing committee, announced dishearteningly that all competitions in Tokyo and the three neighboring prefectures will be held behind closed doors.

Even more disappointing to Watanabe is that only the advanced sessions of badminton are scheduled for broadcast live on TV. The thought that he will not be able to witness the proudest moment of his son’s life caused his heart to sink.

“As a parent, I am disappointed,” Watanabe said. “But as a citizen, it should surprise no one. Because people’s lives are important. I just feel grateful that the (Olympics) are being held.”

The news stunned many ticketholders who won in the highly competitive ticket lottery.

“I am just so sad,” said a 44-year-old man in Kanagawa Prefecture who has a ticket for a basketball game. “Without fans, there is no meaning to bringing in (all the athletes) to Japan to play.”

A TV-only Olympics has also left many volunteers at a loss over what to expect from here on out.

A 28-year-old woman who lives in Tokyo’s Kita Ward signed up to work as a volunteer and guide spectators at an Olympics venue in the capital.

She said she started studying English to welcome foreign spectators. After the organizers decided to ban them, she changed her focus to serving domestic fans.

Now she is not even sure if her assigned role is still needed.

“There will probably be some work to usher officials,” she said. “But do I still see the point in volunteering for that? I don’t know.”

TOUGH TIMES FOR CRITICS, TOO

The news that the fourth state of emergency will be issued for Tokyo from July 12 until Aug. 22 hit restaurateurs particularly hard.

A 55-year-old woman who runs a soba noodle restaurant in Tokyo’s bustling Shibuya district expressed disappointment that serving alcohol will be banned again.

She said customer traffic dropped to less than a quarter when the business was last banned from serving alcohol.

She has survived on government subsidies and said that customer traffic had finally just started to return.

“I just don’t like being told the infections spread because eateries do not comply with rules,” she said.

To her, holding the Olympics under the state of emergency does not make any sense.

“It’s all so contradictory. I can’t help but laugh rather than be angry,” she said.

A 78-year-old woman who runs a bar in Tachikawa, western Tokyo, is taking the opposite approach, deciding not to comply with the government’s no-alcohol rules and its request that bars and restaurants close early.

“The Olympics are on, right? Then I will no longer listen to the (government),” she said.

She said she will leave the back door open to let only loyal customers in for drinks.

“You may think it’s unfair,” she said. “But I have no choice. I need to survive.”

LITTLE FANFARE AMID EMERGENCY

A 17-year-old high school student expressed bitterness toward the Olympics.

“I don’t care. I’m tired,” she said on her way home.

She belongs to a brass band club at the school. Last year, brass band competitions were canceled across the board due to the pandemic.

She and her classmates have not had a relaxed lunch break for a long time because teachers patrol the room and issue warnings such as, “Face the front,” and “No talking while eating!”

“I haven’t been able to do anything that a high school student is supposed to do,” she lamented. “How can I open my arms to the Olympics in this situation?”

On the afternoon of July 8, a 66-year-old woman came to shop at an official Tokyo Games merchandise shop in Tachikawa.

After 15 minutes of hemming and hawing, she decided to buy a face mask emblazoned with the Olympics logo.

But her purchase was not made so she could show support for the Olympics.

“This mask can be good satire,” she said. “Doing the Olympics under the state of emergency is so unbelievable.”

Her disgust was aimed at the central and metropolitan governments and lawmakers who “cannot be stopped once they start.”

She spent money on the mask but said has no plans to wear it in public.

“It’s just a reminder that the Olympics were held at this time. I might wear it when I do some gardening at home.”

(This article was written by Hiroaki Takeda, Hikaru Yokoyama, Chiaki Ogihara, Midori Iki and Takash Endo.)