Take me out to the ball game

September 14, Sunday
Fortunately, I had Texas A&M to prepare me for a Japanese baseball game. The dedication – fanaticism? foolishness? market opportunity? – of the fans and the cheerleaders on the field at the Tokyo Dome reminded me of nothing as much as Aggie loyalty. We attended the Nomiuri Giants at home versus the Yakut Swallows along with 55,000 or so other fans.

En route to the game we paused for a few minutes to watch a little league game and noted several differences with its American counterpart. There were no bleachers for parents and no fence separating the dugout from a foul ball. Nets lined all four sides to reduce the chance of a ball entering the non-baseball world and causing damage. Most impressively, the batting helmets of both teams were lined up neatly in front of the dugout. When one team took the field, the surplus players stood on the baseline until the inning started, then stood in the dugout during the inning.

The garden and little league game starkly contrasted with the Tokyo Dome and game. The entire experience felt very familiar. The players wore uniforms with their name and team in English, rock songs in English blared out during and between innings, and the crowd roared their appreciation for a good play or hit. The suites were only partly filled while the rest of the stadium was fully packed.

Small differences emerged. Initially the cheers sounded the usual unintelligible chants, but then you realize it’s the usual unintelligible chant in Japanese. The players stats and other information are all in Japanese as are the signs for food. A national anthem did not begin the game nor was there stretching in the seventh inning. The food overall was forgettable (familiar), but the prices only 20-30% above street prices (though more hot dogs were probably sold instead the stadium than in the rest of the city).

Then the big differences appeared. The visiting team wore white pants, not grey (okay, that’s a detail for baseball fans). There was no bullpen; pitchers warmed up on the side. If a player hit a single, two batboys appeared: one picked up the bat and the other the wristguard from the batter. The vendors walking down the steps were all young girls, none of whom yelled (not that they would have been heard). Instead, they smiled and waved and sold sake, hard alcohol and beer from small kegs strapped to their backs.

Many fans appeared to be either standing-room-only types or had descended from the top bleachers to line the rails three and four deep at the main floor. Far, far more than I have ever seen at an American game. Overall, they acted like Red Sox or Aggies fans, very, very enthusiastic about their team. One neighbor and I shook hands excitedly after a home run, as if only by our efforts, by our cheering, by our support we had made that home run possible. And maybe we had.

Like A&M basketball, the Giants had cheerleader gymnasts attired in outfits that would do the Dallas Cowboys proud. Every few innings they appeared on the sidelines and led cheers while doing somersaults. They also provided color for the pre- and post-game ceremonies, including flanking the dugout when the Giants took the field and posing on both sides of the player of the game afterward. When a Giant hit a home run, a cheerleader greeted him with a small stuffed mascot (I assume) (which he threw into the stands to the appreciation of the fans)

Both teams had organized fan sections in the outfield. The Giants’ fans were, naturally, more numerous and had a huge banner (at least 100 x 40 feet, emblazoned with a huge “Giants” and a smaller but still very visible “Adidas” at the bottom right) that scrolled up their section once during the game and once after. Big flags occasionally appeared too and the chanting, cheers, and trumpet calls were too numerous to track. Alex and I visited the section to see hundreds of cheering fans, most dressed in Giants’ jerseys. The heat and humidity of that upper deck were overwhelming.

The ushers provided ticket control, but also but early warning of incoming foul balls by blowing whistles. One ball landed two rows in front of Caroline and Lisa. Alex was jealous.

After the game, the fans remained. First, the player of the game was recognized, given a small stuffed mascot (which he threw into the stands to the appreciation of the fans – notice a pattern?), was asked a few questions, then put on a golf cart and driven around the stadium, throwing balls to fans and, after that, high-fiving them. The cart stopped and he walked down a line of about 50 fans of all ages and shook their hands. These fans had been ushered onto the field as soon as the game ended. I’m assuming they were fans and part of a fan club and had been selected or randomly chosen for the honor. Certainly, they were clicking away with their cameras and mobiles.

The cheerleaders then went to the main sections of fans in the outfield and led them in cheers, aided by mascot-creatures. The big banner appeared again and a good time was had by all for half an hour after the game.

The game itself was good, excellent pitching and fielding, a few impressive hits, and a Giants relief pitcher who nailed two players in the ninth, an opposing batter and his catcher. Nonetheless, he saved the game. Orderly crowds on departure. The price of vending machine drinks in the metro dropped with distance. A 160 yen drink in the stadium cost 140 at the first level and 110 at the bottom.