May 9th, 2005
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Rooting for the home team
Unfortunately, it seems that I follow the Mariners a little too closely (ask me what young somedays pinch hitter Greg Dobbs’ OBP is [.222]), and the local baseball scene not closely enough. If you asked me to name all of the teams in the Pacific and Central leagues, I’d probably field about a seventy percent success ratio, roughly equivalent to my knowledge of Japanese prefectures. My obsession with the Pacific Northwest is not entirely at fault; my allegiances in Japanese baseball are mixed and not so deeply rooted, much like my fandom of American sports circa age eleven. The Orix Blue Wave [recently merged with the Kintetsu Buffaloes] has a place in my heart because that’s where Ichiro gained his fame before making the noble trek east. Similar circumstances exist with the Yokohama Baystars, but due to the membership of Kazu Sasaki. The first place I lived in Japan was Nara, whose neighboring Osaka is home to the most maniacal of Japanese baseball fans, those supporting the Hanshin Tigers. (Never, never, never surrender!) Now I’ve lived in Tokyo for two years, so I guess I’m supposed to like the Giants (the national team with unending parallels to the Yankees).
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However, though all these teams have had their ups and downs (more downs than ups except in the case of the Giants), Japanese baseball seems unique to me that though there are only twelve teams, a good number of them are quite obscure and lacking mass market fanbases. In Japan corporations own the teams (and many of them have endowed their names as such), and this is how we end up with clubs named after computer and office furniture rental companies (Orix), and meat distributors (Nippon Ham Fighters). But perhaps none are quite as unmenacing as the Yakult (obscure soft drink company) Swallows. Yes, the Swallows. A tiny little red-breasted bird that makes even the Hiroshima Carp seem menacing.
But as I said, I’m largely ignorant for lack of reading the news other than the wimpy web version of the Mainichi (but this is changing). So I was quite surprised to learn that Tokyo is even more like the New York of Japan in that we have a lesser-known, less well-funded club a few kilometers from the Tokyo Dome, much like the Mets of Queens. The Swallows do indeed play in Tokyo, and at the Meiji-Jingu baseball park, a surprising ten minute walk from my previous home in Sendagaya. Now I know where those cheers and bright lights were coming from on the days FC Tokyo was away.
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Meiji-Jingu baseball park [1 of 2], is a lot like Harry Grove Stadium where the Frederick Keys play. Baseball is not full of steroid cream-lubed behemoths here; for the most part we play in humble single deck stadiums with moderate concessions ranging from thunder sticks to fried sardines. Beer is served by student workers, hunched-over from the pony kegs strapped to their backs, and the “American dog” [corn dog] is served right along side the octopus ball with a smile. Prices are quite reasonable– about fifteen dollars for open seating, and it’s all happy families and balloons at the seventh inning stretch. The jumbotron (courtesy of Toshiba) has somehow gotten a western ad company to do the player introductions, and so crazy MTV-ish video sequences are accompanied by obnoxious hip-hop music that I can guarantee virtually no one understands.
But for the most part it’s quaint. This is what baseball probably was like in America forty years or so ago, given it bears a festive Japanese flair. The cheerleaders are men in long happi coats (traditionally used for festivals, or big sales at appliance stores), with rally bugles and abnormally loud and energetic boastings. Each team has its own special cheers. The Swallows employ a sea of turquoise umbrellas upon scoring a run, though I’m not quite sure why yet. Every player on the team receives his own custom rallying cry when he comes to bat, with a standard array of calls depending on the player’s generalized personality. One Yokohama swatter in particular draws a cheer about a frog due to the impressively low squat he employs for his stance.
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One thing that stands out, having now seen half a dozen games in Japan, is that there is a lot of really bad pitching in the majors. Most starters don’t last more than three innings. I’ve seen terrible play after play blown due to atrocious control. A great (horrible) example of this is how yesterday the Swallows’ starter intentionally walked the eighth batter to get to the pitcher, who was then walked in turn to load the bases.
Since Giants tickets are so hard to get, and the Swallows’ park is a mere nine-minute subway ride from my house [God, I live in a great location...no more hour-long treks to Yokohama for me!], I think I’ll be going fairly often this summer. I’m laying down a personal goal right now for six games this season. Yesterday’s was the first with a mortifying 12-1 loss to the SoftBank (formerly financially challenged supermarket chain Daiei) Hawks. It was great for the first inning when we were ahead, but after that it was just humiliating. Still, it was a great evening out. The Sapporo draft beer was top-notch (quite acceptably-priced at five dollars), and you can even bring your own food into the stadium if you want.
