by Takeru V. Maeda
The sites and sounds were awfully familiar; kids, grown ups, old people -- all fans of the game, seen flocking to their seats with eagerness and excitement. I was only in Tokyo for a few days before we all went out for the ball game. In those few days spent touring the city, I started feeling somewhat in tune with my fatherʼs heritage but hadnʼt quite made a connection. I wasnʼt raised Japanese so I hadnʼt a clue about the culture except through some of its entertainment programs, movies, food, and some language which are some things that help you know the culture but donʼt quite help you with understanding it. After the first couple of exciting innings after hearing the sound of the wooden bat connecting with the ball, I felt at ease and because of that, for the first time on the trip, I made a deep connection with my own culture.
Understandably, I felt like an outsider throughout most of the trip whether I was dining at a restaurant, eating the same food as everyone else or whether I was just checking out cdʼs at the music shop. Either way, I was within a world where I didnʼt have a stable stance; where I didn't have a full grasp of customs and mentality. I was without confidence even amongst the people whom I felt were similar to me, in a way; yet, my lonesome wanderings around the city reminded me of how much I wasnʼt connected with these people -- that is, until baseball came along.
Since we arrived early I had a while to reflect on a few things about myself and my surroundings. I remember feeling the uncontrollable enthusiasm for the game -- wanting to experience Japanese baseball since I had never watched a game in my life prior to this event. I thought about the fellow fan next to me, who mustʼve seen the gaijin (foreigner) look all over my face and clothes. His eyes would wander back and forth at times whenever heʼd hear my English when speaking with my brother. With all these clouding thoughts and insecurities, I thought I was just going to sit silent and endure a three-hour long game with reserved fans and receive constant staring from those around me. I soon felt the feeling of making a mistake by coming to the game. Boy was I wrong.
From the moment the Giants took the field, the crowd took to their feet and cheered wildly, waving their flags, beating their plastic tubes -- total hysteria. From that moment on my inhibitions and self-doubts subsided and was overwhelmed by the swelling feeling of excitement for the game. I roared and cheered loud and proud for the Giants amongst the fans, and for the first time, I felt like I wasnʼt an outsider.
There was even a moment down by the concession stands where I felt like I was at home. The menu was obviously different from the pretzels and peanuts Iʼm so used to seeing back at Shea Stadium but nonetheless, I was very familiar with most of the food that they served and so, ordering wasnʼt exactly a concern nor was it a concern for enjoying it in my seat next to that nosey boy.
Since then, Japan and its people felt closer to my heart. This connection that I made, through baseball, showed me that almost anyone can connect with a culture through the context of sports. Sure, there are alternatives in engaging a nationʼs heritage and its customs but this is a much easier way, I feel, especially for someone who carries the blood but feels withdrawn. Sports, in general, brings people together in the masses -- so why not apply this to a way of learning?
*Note from the author - This blog post was written for The Chameleon blog site -- a branch site of Blendsphere for whom I write for. Please click the links and explore the multicultural/multi-ethnic community.
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