Life as a foreign athlete in Japan

Ethel Siow YY
Sep 21
6 min read

Updated: Sep 24

September 2025

Himeji, Japan

Not Every Day Feels Brave

There are days when I feel on fire — like I’m chasing the dream with every fibre of my being. But there are also days like this one, standing quietly by a waterfall, where I pause and ask myself: “Am I still on the right path?”

Chasing a dream isn’t always loud or fast. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Sometimes, it’s standing still long enough to realign your heart with your purpose — and to confront the fears you don’t often say out loud.

But I’ve learned to sit with those fears. And slowly, I’ve strengthened both my thoughts and my body to cope.

With each training session, with every quiet prayer, with every deep breath before a match — I convert fear into focus, anxiety into action.

Being an underdog means doing the work even when no one’s watching. It means showing up — not with perfection, but with discipline. Even when the way forward feels uncertain, I try to point myself, gently and steadily, back toward the dream.

Where the Real Work Happens: Matches and Sweat

Training prepares the body — but matches test the soul.

Each competition brings a mix of nerves and adrenaline. The court feels colder. The lights feel brighter. And in those moments before the whistle blows, anxiety creeps in. Not the kind that paralyses — but the kind that reminds you this matters.

Our recent tournament pushed all of us to our limits. The matches were fast, fierce, and full of moments where one decision could turn the tide. Every serve, every spike, every defensive read — we had to earn it. I felt the pressure in my chest, the weight of expectation, the voices of my coaches echoing in my mind.

But I also felt something deeper: readiness.

All the early mornings, the court drills, the weight sessions, the video reviews — they weren’t just preparation. They were layers of resilience being built so that in moments of chaos, I could stay grounded.

And we did more than compete — we played with fire, fought as one, and earned our place on the podium. Holding that trophy with my teammates — it wasn’t just a symbol of victory. It was proof that even when I’m the underdog, even when doubt creeps in, I can rise.

The anxiety never fully disappears. But now, I’ve learned to carry it with me — not as a burden, but as fuel...I may not be the tallest, or the fastest — but I give everything. Every point. Every dig. Every block attempt. Because I know what it's like to sit on the bench, waiting for a chance. And I know what it means when you're finally given one.

Learning to Lead: Coaching the Next Generation

One of the most heartwarming parts of my journey in Japan has been coaching young school kids — like the bright-eyed, giggly ones in this photo. They come to the court with joy, curiosity, and a surprising level of discipline.

They came to learn. I came to teach. But somehow they taught me how big dreams begin — with small hearts, steady basics, and lots of joy.

What strikes me most is how early the fundamentals are taught here. The training is structured. The drills are precise. The routines are consistent — and the basics are drilled deep, even at a young age. In many ways, they are learning things now that I only encountered much later in my own development.

Working with them has opened my eyes. It’s not just about coaching — it’s about shaping mindset, rhythm, and respect for the game from the ground up. Every session I assist with is also a class for me — learning how to teach better, observe more, and communicate across cultures.

These experiences are preparing me for something greater. One day, I hope to bring this level of structure, belief, and technical foundation back to Singapore — to help build the next generation of school athletes who not only play hard but play smart, early.

This isn’t just outreach. It’s a masterclass in mentorship — one I’ll carry with me all the way home.

Team Viale: My Home Away from Home

We come from different cities, speak in different accents, and live vastly different lives — but on this journey, we train, sweat, and dream as one.

Different names, different stories — but one dream.

From early morning drills to late-night rides home, from post-practice stretches to sharing snacks in between matches — this team has become my home away from home.

On tough days, we lift each other. On good days, we cheer a little louder. And when the gym lights go off and the noise fades, what stays is something unshakable: trust, encouragement, and sisterhood.

These girls — Chihiro, Natzuki, Lei, Kiki, Mizu, Erina, Miki — they’re more than teammates. They’re the people who remind me that it doesn’t matter where you come from. If your heart beats for the same dream, you can move together as one.

We’re not just building skills.

We’re building a bond. A belief.

And a shared dream we refuse to let go of...

Eyes on the Horizon: SEA Games 2025

Right now, there’s one date bolded on my calendar — December, for the 33rd SEA Games in Thailand.

Grateful to be able to wear red again. We will rise together — as one team, one nation.

Every serve I practise, every rep I grind through, every drop of sweat in training — it’s all for this. For the chance to wear Singapore’s red once again. For the honour of standing beside my teammates, representing our flag, and playing for something bigger than ourselves.

We are not the favourites.

We never were.

We are the underdogs.

But that only sharpens our edge.

This year, Team Singapore will return better, stronger, and more resilient. We’ve been working in the shadows, rebuilding not just skills, but belief. We don’t just want to show up — we want to rise, and rise together.

If I’m blessed with the chance to be on that final squad, I’ll bring every ounce of heart I have.

And no matter the odds, I’ll fight for the dream, and for the team that made me believe again..

Anchored in Faith, Carried by Grace

I’m still figuring things out — how to balance playing, coaching, and eventually studying. I still get overwhelmed. But faith gives me an anchor.

I believe God didn’t bring me this far just to leave me here.

And on days when I feel like I’m not enough — I lean into grace. I look at how far I’ve come. And I remind myself: even if the world doesn’t see it yet, the seeds are being planted.

For Anyone Watching Back Home…

To the parents who wonder if it’s worth letting your daughters chase a path in sport — I understand. It’s uncertain. It’s demanding. But it also builds something priceless. Confidence. Resilience. A sense of self that goes far beyond medals or scoreboards.

To the younger girls watching from home — you don’t need to wait until you feel ready. Your journey doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. Just start. Take small steps. Keep showing up with courage, kindness, and heart. That’s enough.

And to those who’ve quietly followed my journey — friends, mentors, supporters — thank you for believing in the process, not just the spotlight. I’m still growing. Still learning. Still writing this story, one honest step at a time.

Final Thoughts

I don’t know exactly how this chapter ends. But I know how I want to live it — with purpose, with humility, and with relentless effort.

If I ever forget why I’m doing this, all I need is to step back into the gym. The sound of the ball, the squeak of shoes, the heartbeat before a serve — they bring me home.

I was made for this.

“Some days feel heavy, and some dreams feel far. But if you keep walking — with faith, with fight, and with quiet belief — you’ll find strength even in the smallest steps.”

This journey isn’t just about competing. It’s about building resilience, finding joy in the little moments, and taking care of myself so I can give more on court. I’m thankful for GPM, whose dedication to wellness mirrors my own pursuit of strength, balance, and purpose.

[GPM - www.gpm.co.jp/service/service03/]

Love

Ethel (UDA)