Locals hit fever pitch but cannot conceal their fear

Excitement and apprehension is welling in Japan and South Korea. But for the tournament to be a success its disciplined hosts must allow fans the freedom to enjoy themselves.

Before the heat and humidity of Japan's rainy season, and before the bustle of trains and coaches which will transport them into Tokyo, the first thing football fans will notice when they arrive at Narita Airport will be the sign suspended above the baggage hall. Its message is spelled out in English and Japanese; its letters are a foot high. "Welcome to Japan," it says. "Please Keep The Rules." It is this nervous combination – of enthusiasm and apprehension, of hospitality and suspicion – which sums up Japan's attitude to the World Cup, and on which the success or failure of the tournament depends.

Japanese are warm and gracious hosts; for efficiency, and forward planning, there is no one to match them. The question is whether they will be able to accommodate the unpredictability and spontaneity which an event like this inevitably throws up. After six years of preparation and £3bn of expenditure, there is no doubt that this will be a well organised tournament. The question is: will it be any fun?

Half of the 2002 World Cup, of course, will be played in South Korea but – unless England end up in the third place play-off – it is in Japan that most British fans will spend the tournament. From the moment they arrive they will find themselves taken care of. Twelve thousand multi-lingual volunteers will be on hand at airports, railway stations, and venues to aid and direct. One and a half million guidebooks will be distributed free in seven languages. Navigating a country in which you can't read the road signs is always daunting, but Japan is a pleasure to travel through, with plenty of people willing to help out lost foreigners.

It may take a bit of time to work out where you are going, but once you know getting there is easy – and during June it will be easier than ever. Those who have failed to book hotels and tickets in advance will find their choices limited, but for most people the biggest obstacle of all be the expense. For anyone planning more than one long train journey, the Japan Rail Pass will quickly save money.

The Japanese stadia will be a revelation. Most have been purpose-built for the World Cup; the rest have been recently renovated. Six of the 10 pitches, however, are multi-sports stadia, meaning that spectators will have a running track between themselves and the game. But at least Saitama, where England meet Sweden on 2 June, is said to have successfully resolved the problems with its turf, which was cut to pieces during a Japan-Italy friendly last November. Oita and Sapporo, where England play Argentina in the first round are completely covered or have a sliding roof; in the others at least two-thirds of seating is protected from the rainy-season skies.

The host towns and cities where matches are being played are enthusiastically preparing for their 90 minutes on the world stage – they just aren't the towns where you would necessarily choose to spend your time in Japan. The Ibaraki ground, for example, is in the middle of nowhere. Saitama is an area proverbial in its dullness, the Essex of Japan. Tokyo, a 50-minute train journey away is still Asia's richest, most varied and exciting city, but for some reason no game is being played there.

But it is within the stadia that the second part of the message at the airport comes into play: Please Keep The Rules. Many of them are sensible enough, but others display the Japanese habit of imposing regulation for its own sake. A sound alcohol policy has been instituted.

Fans can buy beer freely, but not bring their own supplies into the ground. Booze sales will end at the beginning of the second half. Only one cup will be sold per fan and you must queue in person; if you want more, then you can queue again. So everyone has the choice: watch the game and imbibe in moderation, or get drunk but miss the whole thing.

But why the rule banning plastic bottles "with caps attached" (a mystifying annex to the clause states that plastic "bottles may not be taken by spectators to their seat, irrespective of whether caps are attached")? "Frozen substances" are also banned, as a precaution against Argentinian supporters, one assumes, who might pelt David Beckham with fish fingers.

The truth is that, during the last three months, Japan has got into a funk about the tournament which it fought so hard for the right to host. Post 11 September, the biggest and most serious threat is of a terrorist attack. But in the popular mind the great fear is of hooligans – and that, even to relatively well-informed Japanese, means England fans.

The media, especially television and the tabloid "sports papers", have played their part in promoting hysteria, but the most damage has been done by the Japanese police. Forget the low-key approach employed in British grounds – the National Police Agency is treating the whole event like an accident waiting to happen. Every week, blood-curdling anti-hooligan "drills", featuring policemen dressed as hooligans, are held before the cameras in World Cup grounds. New "anti-hooligan" weapons, including net guns and pole-mounted snares have been procured. Sapporo on the day of the Argentina match will contain almost as many riot shields and tear gas launchers as England fans The danger is that all this alarm-mongering will take on a life of its own. Already, inns close to England venues are refusing to take bookings from foreigners. The sight of a single plastic bottle with a cap or a frozen Brussels sprout could be enough to set off a panic. It will be a great shame if, after the expense of so much money and effort, Japan forgets to add a third element to the slogan in the airport: Welcome to Japan. Please Keep The Rules. But Enjoy Yourselves.