If you read the last column, you know that I was a driver for a certain media outlet during these Tokyo Olympics. Well, honestly, the job itself was pretty boring, even disappointing, for me. Some of my fellow drivers took media crews (and even players) to venues and had some pretty fun experiences, even getting into some of the events and seeing them in person. My role was quite diminished in comparison. The crew I was assigned to (who were extremely wonderful people, I should make clear) did not attend any events. They were in charge of creating and producing a TV program about the heroes of their nation on that particular day. They stayed at the media center, far from any live sports action, all day. And so did I. Now, being at a media center is kind of cool in its own way, but it grows a little old. Really old. Really fast.
Basically, as someone who lives in Kansai, I spent three weeks away from my family during a period in which I was quite needed. I had no way to be with them or support them. On some days, my entire job consisted of driving two people (sometimes just one) a total distance of like 12 kilometers, from the hotel to the media center. And then just sitting there all day. While my family needs me, I am halfway across the nation sitting in an office with nothing to do, and with very little to show for my time there. This was NOT what I signed up for!
But then, it happened. August 7. The day of the gold medal game between Samurai Japan and the United States of America. My mundane shift started at 4:30 am, which meant I was off by early afternoon. Now, I had been given a rail pass (courtesy of the Olympics) that could get me anywhere I wanted in Tokyo, and a media pass (courtesy of the media outlet I was serving) that could get me into any venue that I wanted. See where this is going? Time enough to attend. Means to get to the venue. A pass to get me in. It’s ON!
I hop on the train for Yokohama Stadium, get an instant welcome through the barricade, walk through the media center (which is full of pre-game meals for media, but which I am unsure I am allowed to partake in), and straight into the stadium. I get to the third baseline and look around. No designated seating. Since I am somewhat early, there are not many people in the stands yet. Well, let’s get as close to the game as possible! Nay, as close to the players as possible! I put down my bag in the first row directly behind the Samurai Japan bench. If I lean forward, I can actually see right inside the dugout! I look around again, making sure it is OK for me to sit here. No one going to come and usher me to the nosebleeds, or even out of the stadium? It’s ON!
I put on my Hanshin Tigers vest. You know the one. The one with the fans in the back to keep me cool? Yeah, that one. Well, as the game goes on, I get a few people making comments about it, which is a good conversation piece in itself. One Japanese media approached me and said, “A current member of the Tigers noticed you and asked me to go find out who you were.” He took my picture and we exchanged business cards. I also got noticed by an American journalist who works in Tokyo, but says he does not know NPB so well. So we chatted some and exchanged contact information, too. That’s all fine and good…
But I just want to see the game. I want to smell the game. I want to hear the game! All of the above are more than possible from my seat. I can practically see Yuki Yanagita’s crow’s feet when he comes back from center field all smiles. If any of those guys blew gas between innings, I would have caught wind of it. (Thankfully, that never happened.) But oh, the sounds.
The pop of the ball slapping the catcher’s mitt. The crack of the bat on a well-hit ball. Most of all, and the biggest reason I sat where I sat, the chatter from the players on the bench. I’ll tell you this much. Ryoya Kurihara is the ultimate teammate and played a HUGE role in getting this team the gold. He did not play at all in that final game, but his voice undoubtedly impacted the outcome of the game. At least in my opinion. No matter which teammate was batting, he shouted out positivity after every pitch, and even after every out. When his pitchers threw, he yelled his approval, no matter what the count. Walk a guy? Bean a guy? In a jam? Kurihara had a relaxing effect on his mates throughout the game.
And that got me thinking. What if I had someone like that next to me when I was doing my job? When I make a mistake or don’t perform as planned, and I start to feel down on myself, when I feel my confidence slipping. “You’re good! You’re doing great!” I mean, this guy genuinely believed in his mates the whole way through. Don’t we all need a Kurihara in our lives from time to time? Bad day at work? Fight with the spouse? Paralyzed with fear? Just a shout of encouragement from Kurihara and you’ll be on the path to success again soon.
Not to proselytize, but as a Christian, I believe I have this kind of ally. The Bible says on multiple occasions that the Holy Spirit of God is our great advocate. Stuck? Don’t know what to do? The HS will come to your rescue in ways you cannot understand or possibly formulate on your own. “You’re doing great! I’ve got your back!”
It is definitely blasphemous to compare a baseball player with the Spirit of God, and so I won’t. But I will thank Kurihara for reminding me of what it means to be an encourager, of what it means to believe in others, and of what it means to take great joy in a diminished role that does not meet the wild expectations you had when you took the job in the first place. (That was me at the start of this article, remember?)
My experience at the games is over, but the things I will take from it will last me a lifetime. The icing on the cake was undoubtedly being able to take in the gold medal game. Congratulations to Samurai Japan, and thank you to everyone involved in the Olympics, especially Ryoya Kurihara, for reminding me of my faith through this experience.