Kia Tigers
Wednesday, May 16
The subway is mad. It is the worst I have ever seen it in Seoul.
Once, I experienced the sardine tin that is the Tokyo subway at rush hour but that somehow had more order to it. I remember being jammed in the middle of the car. I was unable to move or hold onto anything but the fear of falling was pointless because there was not enough room to fall.
No, this disaster of sweat and jostling for grip and spots near the door reminds me of the unfortunate nights when a show at Axis or Avalon on Lansdowne Street at the same time the game at Fenway let out.
Makes sense, I guess, as an old woman shoves me to the side and I am nearly run over by another, I am on my way to my first baseball game in Korea. Also, I am riding on the Green Line.
When I come out at the Sports Complex stop I am a hot wreck. I hope my shirt doesnt soak through. I am trying to show off my new clothing and my new shoes; shoes that cut deep into my ankles and soak my socks in blood by the end of the night. I spot my friends Kiki and Joe at the top of the stairs. We pour from the tunnel like ants.
I am relieved to breathe fresh air*. I spent the entire last part of the subway entombed in the middle of the train, being bounced around and pushed, all with my hands in my pocket so nobody thought the sweaty foreigner was out for a grope.
We wait for a girl named Jeong A to arrive and we are soon walking into the stadium. Anyone accustomed to the security and checkpoints and general assumed rules of baseball stadiums in the States is almost at once horrified and delighted.
We walked right in. Tickets were cheap, a kindness from Joe, but they arent subject to the scrutiny of back home. Further we have bags of food and booze that is let in with no fuss. If we had forgotten beer then it was possible to buy a can for less than 3,000W.
The game is great.
Joe's team, or rather the team of his parent's hometown and thus his own, is the visiting Kia Tigers. Taking on the number 1 Doosan Bears, the home team. We sit on the visiting team's side of the field. This is important.
The game goes like any other, anywhere on earth. There are fouls and homers. If anything, it is a bit tense as one team takes the team after another. Pitchers are pulled out (in painfully rapid succession that leads to an hour long 7th) and balls are thrown.
What is different is the shear noise. It transcends so far beyond the noramlcy of the screaming at Stateside games that it transcends into what I always thought was an exaggerated cliche.
There is a lot more singing, for one.
Every batter steps up to a theme song and a chant. One guy steps out and Yellow Card's "Ocean Avenue" blares. These chants turn into songs and then silence when the other team picks up the bat. Like everywhere else, the desibles soar with loaded bases.
En lieu of the frank and beer (which would cost a hefty amount at home) we eat bread with cream, cho-bap, sandwiches, and a bowl of ramen.
In the end the Tigers win and Joe can't speak because he scream / sang the whole damn night. I can hear nothing because I was simply present.
*But this is Seoul, so it isn't very fresh.
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Once, I experienced the sardine tin that is the Tokyo subway at rush hour but that somehow had more order to it. I remember being jammed in the middle of the car. I was unable to move or hold onto anything but the fear of falling was pointless because there was not enough room to fall.
No, this disaster of sweat and jostling for grip and spots near the door reminds me of the unfortunate nights when a show at Axis or Avalon on Lansdowne Street at the same time the game at Fenway let out.
Makes sense, I guess, as an old woman shoves me to the side and I am nearly run over by another, I am on my way to my first baseball game in Korea. Also, I am riding on the Green Line.
When I come out at the Sports Complex stop I am a hot wreck. I hope my shirt doesnt soak through. I am trying to show off my new clothing and my new shoes; shoes that cut deep into my ankles and soak my socks in blood by the end of the night. I spot my friends Kiki and Joe at the top of the stairs. We pour from the tunnel like ants.
I am relieved to breathe fresh air*. I spent the entire last part of the subway entombed in the middle of the train, being bounced around and pushed, all with my hands in my pocket so nobody thought the sweaty foreigner was out for a grope.
We wait for a girl named Jeong A to arrive and we are soon walking into the stadium. Anyone accustomed to the security and checkpoints and general assumed rules of baseball stadiums in the States is almost at once horrified and delighted.
We walked right in. Tickets were cheap, a kindness from Joe, but they arent subject to the scrutiny of back home. Further we have bags of food and booze that is let in with no fuss. If we had forgotten beer then it was possible to buy a can for less than 3,000W.
The game is great.
Joe's team, or rather the team of his parent's hometown and thus his own, is the visiting Kia Tigers. Taking on the number 1 Doosan Bears, the home team. We sit on the visiting team's side of the field. This is important.
The game goes like any other, anywhere on earth. There are fouls and homers. If anything, it is a bit tense as one team takes the team after another. Pitchers are pulled out (in painfully rapid succession that leads to an hour long 7th) and balls are thrown.
What is different is the shear noise. It transcends so far beyond the noramlcy of the screaming at Stateside games that it transcends into what I always thought was an exaggerated cliche.
There is a lot more singing, for one.
Every batter steps up to a theme song and a chant. One guy steps out and Yellow Card's "Ocean Avenue" blares. These chants turn into songs and then silence when the other team picks up the bat. Like everywhere else, the desibles soar with loaded bases.
En lieu of the frank and beer (which would cost a hefty amount at home) we eat bread with cream, cho-bap, sandwiches, and a bowl of ramen.
In the end the Tigers win and Joe can't speak because he scream / sang the whole damn night. I can hear nothing because I was simply present.
*But this is Seoul, so it isn't very fresh.
