Baseball and Beer

Today Miy-san picks me up in the morning for a spontaneous shopping stroll around “Diamond City”, a big shopping mall next to Itami Station, another part of Osaka I have never set foot upon and probably never would, if it wasn’t for all those nice people who know their way around and, bit by bit, help me expand my mental map of the city.
We both love tea, and Diamond City is the place to get it. The tea shop is small but has teas of all types and flavours under the sun, displayed in small round tins you can pick up, to let their tempting aromas tickle the insides of your nose and decide which one most suits your palate. Inspired by the quiet Monday morning shopping mall atmosphere, bathed in shades of vanilla milkshake and Hello Kitty, I go for black tea that smells of chocolate chip cookies and green tea that smells of vanilla and strawberry.
Our tea mission accomplished, we explore the rest of the mall, combing through a sophisticated 100 ¥ shop that sells kitchen paraphernalia and stationery, walking past the pet shop where Miy-san has bought Happy, and, of course, a pet clothes shop where I see dummies wearing the same clothes I have seen on the wan-wans (woofs) in Inōkashira Park the other day. Miy-san walks into a jewellery shop, something I would never do on my own, but as I’m with her, I have a look and promptly find a crocodile shaped hairclip I cannot help buying. As soon as I see it I start thinking about a name for it.
Finally, we land on the top floor in front of the cinema, and Miy-san tells me she wants to see “Dream Girls” again. A wonderful film, she says, that makes you want to sing. So we decide to watch it in the evening. Then we go for a bowl of katsudon, deep fried pork, egg, cabbage, and brown sauce topping a big bowl of sticky white rice, and it is as satisfying as a seal.
Then we leave, and Miy-san takes me to Itami Station from where I embark on my next adventure. B-san has kindly invited me to join him for some free high school baseball at the huge Kōshien baseball stadium. This week, he tells me, there are games every day, with all the best high school teams of Japan competing against each other. All games are televised, and people across Japan watch as high school students pitch, bat, run, and sweat on Ōsaka’s Kōshien diamond.
I take the JR line to Kōshien-guchi, but when I arrive and try to find B-san, it turns out that Kōshien-guchi Station is about 30 minutes from the Hanshin line Kōshien Station, which is right next to the Stadium. As the bus has just left, and I don’t want to wait another twenty minutes, I decadently take a taxi and, five minutes and ¥ 900 later, arrive at the McDonalds next to Kōshien Station to meet B-san, who has only just emerged victoriously from a fight with the fearful minotaur of the Ōsaka underground. But he appears unscathed, wearing sunglasses and a big rucksack. We walk across to the Stadium and find some seats from where we don’t only get to watch the Narita vs Kōryo game but also the cheering teams on either side, which seem to be conducting a separate kind of tournament. A whole block on the right is all purple, with a brass band and intricate cheerleaders’ formations jumping and waving rhythmically. There is a similarly impressive turnout on the left, colouring the opposite block red. Both sides take turns clapping, singing, moving in patterns through various formations, playing boisterous brass music to keep their teams going, and breaking into spontaneous bouts of cheering whenever their teams score. As I am completely baseball illiterate, I have to ask B-san and watch the score to see which team is winning. Both teams are very close, and they have to go into second innings before the game finally ends 2:1 for Kōryo.
After the game, B-san tells me, everybody in the losing team always cries. Tender dreams of being spotted and becoming famous baseball players may be crushed as we watch the teams line up and shake hands to the sound of a male voice booming the national anthem through the speakers. Next, Hokuyo from Osaka are playing Kagoshima-sho who have travelled a long way from Kyūshū.
But I know nothing about baseball, and the great thing about sitting in a big stadium on a sunny free Monday with professional cheers all around is mainly that it provides the perfect chill out spot. In wise foresight, B-san has brought beer and sun screen, and as the sun screen dries into white residue on our faces, we sit slurping beer, occasionally applauding the players, enjoying bouts of idleness and exchanging stories. A skunk caught in the garage and shot at with a pellet gun, spraying everything as its muscles relax, spontaneous real estate tours in Osaka, religion, aikido, English conversation sharks, yakuza, smoking, drinking, and quitting, the red pill, and the blue pill feature in our conversation across this pleasant stretch of afternoon idleness. But idleness seldom lasts, especially in this country of short weekends and long working hours, so we leave for another fight with the minotaur, as I have to make my way back to practise kata. Karate competitions and gradings are coming up, and I have to drill the moves into my body - my mind will forget them under pressure.
So after an hour of kata training next to the baseball field behind my house (it is locked, and the fence is much too high to be climbed), I’m off for Monday night aikido training, where everybody sweats practising flowing bouts of open-handed strikes to the side of the head, averted by circular counter-movements which in fast repetition turn into a dance, equally nerve-wrecking and relaxing as blade-shaped hands drop like swords only inches away from faces, and bodies move into and out of line, drawing semi-circles into the air and onto the white mats. I get my timing right once, which is a success to be elaborated on in the future.
After training, Miy-san picks us up in her car, and we arrive slightly late for Dream Girls which, featuring the amazing voice of Jennifer Hudson, does indeed make you want to sing. After the film, we pop into a McDonalds for a coke, and to translate Diana Krall’s “Devil May Care” into Japanese for Miy-san, who loves singing this song but doesn’t know what she is singing.
“No cares or woes, whatever comes later goes, that’s how I’ll take and I’ll give, Devil may care.” Now she knows and comments: "What a cool song!"
I voice my concern over the issue of what to call my new crocodile while I take him out of my hair and look him in the eyes as he opens and closes his mouth. “Pacman!” Miy-san aptly suggests, but although the way he moves his mouth undeniably resembles Pacman’s, I still have a feeling he looks more like something else, something I know but can’t quite put into a name yet.
When Miy-san drops me off next to my house, I can’t believe I will be facing another week of 10 hour days. But the next weekend will surely come, and the red pill is still sitting in my pocket, waiting to be swallowed.