1 post tagged “baseball”
Of all the trips we've considered and/or scheduled, by far, Hub was more excited about the prospect of watching a professional sport over any shrine, temple, or festival I could ever suggest. Laughingly, I agreed to join him for a baseball game in Fukuoka for two reasons: first, I want him to enjoy all of our trips too and want to experience various parts of Japan with him, but secondly, I mean, who doesn't enjoy baseball, really?
The trip up to Fukuoka takes around a couple of hours by our now-familiar, and friendly, MWR bus, and while the time didn't pass all that quickly, it was pleasant. Across from us sat a gentleman wearing a University of Florida t-shirt, and being the SEC-born gal that I am, I had to tease him a bit about the tournament and share my hopes that the Gators won again. Turns out, our bus-neighbor, Jose, was just in Sasebo for a few weeks working on a project as a civilian contractor. We swapped stories, being somewhat newcombers ourselves, and delighted in finding out he held the seat next to ours at the game. I told him that I was surprised he got tickets, as we had registered for the game as soon as tickets were announced and were told they sold out; he kind of blinked back at me and informed me that of the two buses headed up to the game, the one I was on was for the people who'd registered late and had to take the lesser seats. Hub and I grumbled quite a bit over that; he had been called just the day before by MWR, asking if we minded sitting in another location so a pair of friends could sit together. Not realizing we were taking the "late" seats, we'd agreed, knowing we'd hope someone would do the same for us if the situation were reversed.
Determined to not let that spoil our moods, we disembarked the bus under strict advice to come back to that exact spot as soon as the game ended. Sheep-like, we followed the rest of our bus up the escalators from the parking garage into the Fukuoka Yahoo! Dome, home of the Softbank Hawks. Turns out that unlike in America, Japanese baseball teams are owned by corporations, not by specific owners, and are not recognized by the town they play in but by that corporation. While the dome they held as home was owned by Yahoo!, the team itself is owned by Softbank, one of the largest cell phone service providers in Japan.
Grinning at each other, Hub and I ruefully admired everyone else's choice of clothes: either dressed to kill in trendy high heels, dresses, and suits or sporting the team fashionably in black-and-white jerseys. Not realizing the game was in a dome, we'd dressed for the expected rain with baseball caps and raincoats. Lesson learned for next time, for sure!
Just inside the doors but not yet into the seats, our noses were hit with smells uncommon to most American baseball fans. Now, I've visited a few stadiums in my time, and the food is always of interest. I can't remember much about Cinncinnati when I visited, but Baltimore prided itself on a mixture of everything from barbeque to the regional-favorite, crab cakes. In San Diego, it was just as easy to find a California roll as a hot dog, if not easier! In Fukuoka, however, it was ramen, udon, and fried chicken that assailed us both (yes, fried chicken--they fry bite-sized pieces of thigh meat and skewer it for ease). As we watched, open-eyed, we even spotted a few bags hosting a familiar symbol to the two of us: the Wendy's girl! Mouth watering, but not yet hungry enough to eat, we decided to find our seats and get settled in.
Now, just before, I told you how irritated we were at our seat change once we realized we'd been duped, but I couldn't have wished for a better area. We were sitting in prime foul ball territory, just up from the first baseline, and evidently, in the Hawks Wanna-be-Superfans territory. Now, I saw wannabe-superfans because a few sections over, right below the scoreboard, were three sections of fans, every one of them in jersey, with their own pep leaders dressed in traditional robes of white with the Hawk symbol on the back, waving flags, stirring up the crowd, and leading the stadium in dance.
Now, pause for a moment and drink that in: leading them in dance.
Turns out, the cool thing for any Softbank Hawk fan is to have any multitude of Hawk-sponsored noisemakers, generally plastic baseball bat-like sticks that produce lots of noise when hit together, but rather than just pounding away in excitement or happiness, they had official rhythyms, chants (my favorite sounds like, "Diamonds on his head, something something," which the Japanese lady sitting next to me laughed at and told me that in Japanese, the words they were chanting actually meant something like "Go get them, [insert player's name here]"), and movements. To sit in this section, we figured, was something akin to holding a box seat at the Kentucky Derby; if you managed to score those seats in a season pass, you never let them go. Our section, while missing the flag bearers, was close enough to earn our own pep leader. Our small section of Americans (all 12 of us) were surrounded by noise-maker bearing, organized cheer-spouting, Hawks fans decked out in their favorite player's gear, which, in some instances, was actually for the few Americans on the team. Each team in the Japanese professional league is allowed to have up to two non-nationals on payroll, and most of those come from the American Minor League.
Our little group was filled with fun-loving people intent on enjoying the game to the fullest, which made Hub and I happy because we tend to get loud when excited as well. One guy, finished with his tour in Japan but making a two-week travelling spree with his visiting girlfriend, kept buying everyone drinks, insisting that they were the best wine cooler-type of things he'd ever tried. Hub, taking a big sip of his, almost snorted the clear liquid out of his nose when he laughed while telling the guy that instead of a wine cooler, we were all drinking iced sake. Hub, of course, stuck to his favorite drink (beer), although he was forced away from his favorite American choices; making the supreme sacrifice, he flagged down one of the many Kirin girls to get a drink from the mini-keg strapped onto her back.
I can't even begin to describe all of the differences we found in Japanese professional baseball; Hub thought they were much more spirited than American fans, what with the flags, the mascots, the bands, and yes, even cheerleaders, until I reminded him of such teams as the Braves and the Yankees. And even though the fans were undeniably excited about the game, they still held onto the quiet Japanese reserve most of the time, unless the pep leaders signaled for everyone to cheer. Our biggest surprise came at the seventh inning stretch, however, when we were given balloons that vendors were selling in four packs by our neighbors and instructed to blow them up, but not tie them or release them. Holding our balloons, we waited til instructed by the announcers and the pantamiming pep leaders to stand, semi-stretch, and then release! While it wasn't the traditional "Take me Out to the Ballgame" that I was familiar with, the screeching of the balloons, the cheering of the fans, and the crazy flight of the balloons left me breathless with laughter.
Towards the end, as it became apparent the home team would indeed win, we tried to rally the fans around us into a wave, but could only manage to get our section and a couple of others before hushed by the fans around us for breaking the don't-cheer-without-the-pep-leader unspoken (usually) rules. When we finally did claim the victory, white balloons exactly like the yellow ones were bought and released instead, followed by fireworks INSIDE the dome (scary, yes, and only shot off when the team wins).
Encouraged by our cheering, the row of Japanese fans behind us posed for pictures (although the one displayed is obviously during the stretch, notice the obligatory peace sign that EVERY Japanese person does in pictures; it seems that it caught in as a fad from America in the 60s and never really died) and insisted our entire group line up for high-fives before we made our way back out of the dome. Hub and I, pleasantly tired but extremely happy with the day, promised to return with high hopes that our next group would be as much fun as this one was. While it might be America's Greatest Pasttime, the Japanese have certainly put an amazing twist on it that makes it distinctly their own.
As a final note on our trip, I must point out the last-minute bathroom stop, just because most of you will find it so different from home. I waited my turn in line at the ladies' bathroom (why must we always have the line?), only to find, to my dismay that the toliets were traditional Japanese ones rather than the western style I so love (and have grown to never take for granted after living here for awhile)--porcelain-lined holes in the ground which you squat over. Not the most fun situation, as it's been quite a bit of time before I've popped-a-squat to use the restroom. These "traditional" bathrooms are found at many of the rest areas, shrines, anywhere really, but hey--when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Sorry this one is two weeks late in coming, but I swear Tokyo will be up shortly! More from Nippon after my fingers have gotten a bit of a rest.
