Storm front is moving in now, the outskirts of a typhoon in Kyushu. The rapid temperature drop is appreciated, but the wind let’s me know we won’t be dry for long. I’m on my way to a baseball game anyway, I haven’t hardly had a chance to go all season. Baseball is dharma, like running or raves. There is a balance in it you strive for, and a simplicity that loosens your heart.
My team is the Yakult Swallows, because I lived in Shibuya for eight years, their simple, open air stadium a five minute bike ride from my apartment. In the States this would be a AAA minor league stadium, but it doesn’t matter. I’d rather have it that way because it keeps the focus on the game, on the fans. With their traditional band-led cheers, to the ritualistic raising of umbrellas for every run, it’s honest and open, something rare in the deferring Japanese society.
Baseball isn’t religion, but it can be some kind of salvation.