Japan's Favorite Past Time- Part II

(From the forgotten chronicles of Fall 2005)
Our first taste of baseball simmered in trademark Japanese intensity came about one scorching September day in the glistening city of Makuhari. In the absence of the familiar sight of purple and white adorning the stadium, Ash & I had decided to root for our “new” home team, the Chiba Lotte Marines, even going so far as to purchase over-priced trinkets at the gift shop in the name of “memories” and “souvenirs”.

Arm in arm with a friend from Tokyo, we managed to buy some behind-home-plate tickets from a kindly old man less than two feet from the main ticket window for half the normal price (we secretly think he was a scalper, although he couldn’t have made any money from us), ignore our rightful seats while claiming others higher up in the shade (scoring some relief from the barbaric early September sun), smile at the 4-year-old munchkin being super-cute with her doting grandfather, and soak in the overall ambiance.

The stands on the opposite side of the field were a solid white, filled to the brim with loyal Lotte fans. To our left were devout followers of the opposing team, resplendent in appropriately festooned merchandise. As far as I could tell, the rest of us were the indistinct masses that go to a baseball game because it seems like a reasonably interesting way to spend a Saturday. It was at this moment that I began to think the term “fan” here meant more than munching on yakitori while quietly thinking about how nice it would be if the team I had vaguely stronger feelings towards claimed victory this day.

The stadium itself was noticeably smaller than the one back home, which meant even last-minute stragglers could purchase seats that provided a decent view of the game. Provided you weren’t unfortunate enough to sit directly behind a very ugly and very opaque concrete post. Ill-conceived architectural design, that post. Although I wasn’t right behind it, it marred my view of the game, which actually consisted of more than indistinguishable dots moving far off in the distance. So I actually wanted to see the field. But it was better than sitting in a pool of my own sweat in the seat I had actually purchased, which was half-melting in the sun by that time. My point is that since I could actually see the action, I was able to enjoy the game.

As far as I can tell, the rules of the game are the same as back in the states. If they’re not, they’re similar enough for the casual observer who knows the basics and is able to understand no-brainer concepts such as Out, Strike, Ball, and Walk, even without knowledge of Japanese sport terminology. Since understanding directly affects enjoyment, and enjoyment commands attention… you can see where this is going.

But Star, you may ask, it’s easy to see all the action of a baseball game on TV, you don’t have to sweat in the air-conditioned haven of your own home, and you understood the game back in the US! Why would anything you’ve mentioned suddenly capture your attention for an otherwise unchanged sport?

I’ll be the first to acknowledge that it’s a bit bizarre. But I’d like to point out a few things. First off, there is no true escape from the unrelenting summer heat. For anyone. Even salarymen decked out in smart business suits who have nice homes and more money than us common folk carry around sweat rags to mop up the never-ceasing rivers of your body’s cry for relief. Ash once lived with host parents who were very well off with a very nice house (I’ve been in it. I want it.) and he still roasted during that summer. So, given the choice of being wet and sticky at home or out and about… out and about at least has the promise of brief forays into air-conditioned buildings, which is still a hit-and-miss endeavor.

Secondly, circumstances do matter. It was a breath of fresh air to watch something and actually understand it in a foreign, unfamiliar land. Having arrived a scant month prior, the chance to join in communal understanding with the people around us was like a dip in a just-discovered cool mountain lake after a long hike; we didn’t really know how tiring it was to immerse ourselves in constant adventure (even signing up for a cell phone was unexplored territory- back home, they practically give them away!), or how much we missed just knowing what was going on around us, no matter how much we enjoyed and appreciated our different surroundings & new culture. Can you imagine the elation of stumbling across a chance to feel normal once more? This alone could have single-handedly accounted for our interest throughout the rest of the season, as we cheered Lotte on in the questionable comfort of our own home.

But, as always, the crowning factor is often the most simple one.

The die-hard fans are a riot.