Fukuoka Baseball Trip

In mid-September 2010 I took a weekend trip to Fukuoka with Jesse; this back-blog will focus on that trip.

I'd never seen a pro baseball game live before and had heard that Japanese pro baseball was a cultural experience not to be missed, so going to a game was the primary goal of the weekend. While I'm not particularly interested in the game itself, Japanese fans are absolutely insane about their teams, and I wanted to go watch the fans. I'd heard strange rumors, like that there were choreographed dances and cheers and everything was done a certain way with precise timing. Oh, and that there were people with kegs of beer strapped to their backs running up and down all of the steps in the stadium. I got tickets in the "gaiya," or outfield, which is where I was told the main fan-action was. It certainly did not disappoint.

Jesse and I went to the closest pro baseball stadium, the Fukuoka Yahoo Dome (yes, after the online company), home of the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks. (SoftBank is a cell phone company, much to the consternation of unknowing foreigners who go inside their offices looking for ATMs).


We went in fully prepared. Jesse demonstrates how to properly attend a Japanese baseball game.
He has mini plastic bats around his neck, attached to each other with string just like the mittens that used to thread through little kids' winter jackets. Each team has a variety of plastic cheering bats (some with charicatures of the team players), which are mostly used by fans sitting in the cheap outfield seats. Since we were sitting with the home team, we made sure to get the right bats. Jesse also has a packet of overpriced big yellow balloons, which are blown up by fans in the bottom of the 7th and released all at the same time. He'd heard about that tradition and watned to participate.

The home team's opponent that day was the Hokkaido Ham Fighters. I never did get a good explanation why a baseball team would call themselves the Hams (it's the same in Japanese as English... I asked someone if they were backed by a meat processing company, like the Hawks were backed by SoftBank, but that doesn't seem to be the case). I thought it was interesting that many merchandise stalls outside of the arena were also selling Ham Fighters paraphenalia. And, despite the fact that Hokkaido is about as far away from Fukuoka as Maine is from South Carolina (but much, much more expensive and difficult to travel from), there were a sizable group of fans there for the Hams. I think they may have been specially-imported, family members and the like.

So then, fully geared up, we went inside.

And, oh, how I understand a little more the awe that baseball fans have for the sport and their teams. I'd never been inside an arena or stadium even half that size before, and it was filling up quickly. Of course I'd seen many Red Sox games on TV, but TV can't really give you the same feeling of physical space... I felt very small when I first got inside. All of those people, gathered to cheer for the home team Hawks. How popular the team was, how famous! But as the game progressed (and I started learning the choreographed cheers better), the feeling of smallness disappated; I became part of the larger fan community, a small part, yes, but part of the sea of people sending hope towards the players on the field. One of many hoping that the ball will go this way, that he'll catch it, that the opposing batter will swing too late, everyone sitting on the edge of our collective seats when one of our players swung his bat. There were so many people cheering for the Hawks, so much energy filling up the dome.

Unfortunately, the Hawks didn't do so well. It was rather pitiful, actually. Although the Hawks had been on a huge winning streak (and after the abysmal game I saw, actually went on to win the Japanese version of the World Series), the Hams creamed them. We didn't even get our first run until the last inning, and by then it was way too late. Hawks fans started leaving the stadium in the bottom of the ninth because everyone knew it was over.

Despite the slight disappointment, I did get an education in Japanese pro baseball fan behavior (it was, afterall, them that I had come to watch). First, everyone stands up when your team is at bat. After the third out, everyone politely sits down and lets the other team stand up (unopposed) to cheer for their team's turn at bat. I suppose you could continue to stand while your team is in the outfield, but it would be considered very rude. The same goes for team cheers--they only happen when your team is at bat. (There is a minor exception for your pitcher managing a strike-out, but that team cheer is done from the seated position and is quietly subdued compared to the others).

When your team is at bat, though, things are much more lively. There are specific dance-cheers (chanted words plus choreographed waving about of your two plastic bats) for the following instances: when the teams are exchanging their positions, when a player is warming-up (favorite players have their own personalized cheers), when your batter has one out, when your batter has two outs (a much more fervored version than the one-out cheer), when your batter gets a hit, and when your batter gets a home run. (During the game I saw, only the opposing team got home-runs, but I'm sure the Hawks had a special cheer too).

I even worked up a bit of a sweat while twirling, twisting, pointing, and waving my plastic bats about (following the person in front of me in the correct fashion at the right times, of course).

Although we were rather in the nosebleed section of the outfield seats, I was able to get a few good pictures of the SoftBank mascot running about on the field during breaks.

(Note that the mascot has flags. In addition to the plastic bats there were SoftBank flags, too, that the more intense fans used, but they had their own separate rules of use. Maybe if we'd done better, gotten home runs and the like, the flags would've gotten more use, but during this game the fans only used them once).

During one of the breaks, a few lucky kids got to go out onto the field and play for a bit.

And Jesse got to be part of the Bottom-of-the-seventh Yellow Balloon Release. Since he had about 8 balloons and was only able to control one at a time, I got to blow one up too :)

Yup, there were a lot of yellow balloons.

In addition to going to the baseball game, I had my first "meditational ramen" experience that weekend. Jesse took me to a place called "Ichi-ran." (kanji logo on the chopstick wrapper below)

It was a very interesting restaurant and good ramen experience. We went for lunch, and the place was packed with a line out the door, which moved fairly quickly. While in line, we were given the sheet below to indiate our particular ramen preferences.

...I decided to go all-out ^^ Hakata (Fukuoka) ramen is famous for pork-based ramen, which makes it different from Hokkaido (miso-based) or Kanto/Tokyo (shoyu/soy sauce-based).

This is what my steaming bowl of delicious Hakata ramen looked like:

Green onions float on the left, the red dissipating in the middle is Ichi-ran store's individual flavor additions, and my pork bits are on the right. You can just see the noodles lurking under the broth with fatty gems floating on the surface.

In short, it was very good ramen. The best part of it, though, was the atmosphere. I didn't want to take any pictures because it would've been just too touristy, the place was packed, and I didn't want to disturb anyone else's ramen experience. Basically, though, you sit at something like a ramen cubicle. It's kind of set up like a bar with low red stools and a long dark plank of wood for the bar. There are wooden projections on top of the bar to separate individual customers; even if you come with a friend or a group, you eat your ramen alone. Talking is simply out of the question, you did --not-- come to this ramen meditation center to chat. Instead of the bar being open (so you can see what's going on behind the bar in the kitchen-area), there's a woven mat hanging between you and the kitchen with a small flap. You pay before being seated, then sit down and put your ramen preferences sheet in front of the slightly-open flap. The waiters and cooks have a high-tech system which measures the pressure of your bum on the seat and tells them where customers are sitting (the restaurant is a few stories high). You never see the cooks' faces, but they come and take your order preferences. Only a few minutes later, a cook comes back, bow from behind the curtain (you can barely see that they're bowing, but they do), slide your ramen in through the flap, and shut it. Your cubicle has its own water-dispensor and cups, and you can order extra noodles (there's enough broth that you could use more if you wanted them) by pressing a button. It's highly efficient and designed for one purpose: to leave you and your ramen alone in a bubble of contemplative consumption.

I would highly recommend ramen meditation, with one caveat: it helps greatly if you've watched "Tampopo," a Japanese film which focuses on a woman trying to improve her ramen shop and delves into all different ways of looking at food. There's one especially relevant clip about the proper way to eat pork-based ramen which is hilarious and includes (I'm paraphrasing only slightly), "Slurp the noodles while eyeing the pork affectionatly." Each cubicle at Ichi-ran had a sign which I think was describing in part how to eat ramen correctly, but it was completely in Japanese. So one should definetely be properly instructed, via "Tampopo," before attempting to eat at Ichi-ran.

On a side-note, I was also rather impressed by Ichi-ran's bathrooms.

Clearly there will never be any toilet paper shortages here.

I also went to a "Cat Cafe," which was quite nice. You pay an entrance fee, which includes a drink, and can hang out in the cafe for your allotted time petting any of the many cats while sipping a decent coffee or cocktail.

I rather liked the latticed beams near the ceiling which were designed with a series of step-ups for kitties to be able to get up there and hang out above the customers.

Cat-herd!

Some of the cats were very beautiful, but most seemed like normal (if friendly and adjusted to being around people) house-cats. I asked on our way out, and the cats used to be street-cats. You can, in fact, adopt any of them for free. I thought this cat-cafe concept, using formerly homeless kitties, was a great idea. Japan doesn't really have animal shelters (there may be -one- in Tokyo, but I've only heard rumors... that's like saying along the whole American east coast there may be one in NYC), and most people aren't allowed to have pets in their apartments. Given the incredible cost of real estate in urban areas, most people live in apartments. Therefore, most people aren't allowed to have pets... but that doesn't mean that they don't want a little fur-ball interaction now and then. The former-homeless-kitty cat-cafe concept both gets the kitties into a safe environment and gives the citizens of Fukuoka an opportunity for a little furball love. What could be better?