Take me out to the balloon game

Like so many of the opening days I have enjoyed in my career, opening day in Japan was special. A new baseball season was about to begin 7,000 miles away from home, and yet the feelings were the same as always -- excitement and high hopes for the upcoming year.

The SoftBank Hawks had their own unique way of starting the season. There were no military plane flyovers or bald eagles landing on the field, but a taste of Japanese culture and pride was certainly present.

The highlight of the pregame festivities at the Yahoo! Dome in Fukuoka was a traditional drum ceremony, called a Taiko. A group named Nijyo Kizuna Taiko gave the fans an exciting performance. I was told the beats they played were specific to Fukuoka history and that different regions of the country have their own individual Taiko rhythms. Decked out in traditional Japanese dress, these young men and women put on quite a show.

The Japanese national anthem, the “Kimigayo,” was sung by one of Japan’s most famous opera singers, Keiko Nakajima. I knew I was listening to something special and the fans sure seemed to enjoy it.

Quite possibly my favorite part of the day was the absence of introducing every single player on both the visiting and home teams. I have always wondered why, for example, each member of the Philadelphia Phillies would be announced at Shea Stadium on opening day.

I have taken that walk of shame before, where the only people clapping are the people you left tickets for -- and you can’t really hear them, anyway, because the rest of the fans are booing you. I never saw the sense in that.

The Japanese have it right. Both teams simultaneously walked single file and met in front of the pitcher’s mound. Each manager was announced and took his place in front of his team.

For us, it was the legendary Sadaharu Oh. For the Orix Buffaloes, it was former Astros and Angels skipper Terry Collins, a first-timer in Japan. It was quick and painless.

Each manager was presented with an extremely large and beautiful bouquet of flowers, a staple at many Japanese baseball games. In fact, our entire dining hall was decorated with various flowers that were given to specific players wishing them well. There had to be 15-20 different arrangements.

Naturally, I took one home and passed them off to my wife as my own thoughtful gift. Someone beat me to the three dozen pink roses.

The game was somewhat anticlimactic. Our ace and quite possibly the next great export to the major leagues, Kazumi Saitoh, wasn’t quite on his game. Our more than 35,000 fans left without their much anticipated victory; we dropped the opener 8-4.

My debut wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as the pregame festivities. They do things a little differently here in regard to running a bullpen, and I knew there were going to be adjustments that had to be made.

In our opener, I beat a 13-year personal record: I was asked to warm up five separate times. In baseball, we call that an “up,” among other nicknames. I had four “ups” on two separate occasions throughout my career -- five at my age was an unwelcome feat.

I did finally get to pitch. We were two runs down when I came in to face a lefty with runners on second and third. He hit the fastball I delivered straight into the ground and it bounced over the first baseman’s head for a single. A nice “turf hit” to start my career in Japan.

It was the only batter I faced and I would have to wait until next time to record my first out. There is nothing worse as a situational reliever than allowing an inherited runner to score and seeing a zero in the box score in the IP column.

Although their team may be behind in a game, Japanese baseball fans are never cheated of a good time. These are quite possibly the most festive, yet most polite, fans I have ever been around.

The games are a constant party with drums banging, horns blaring and organized cheers throughout the contest. Much to my 5-year-old daughter’s dismay, there are very few silent pauses in a professional Japanese baseball game.

One of the most anticipated moments for fans comes in the seventh inning of every game. It’s not like “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at Wrigley or “Sweet Caroline” in the eighth at Fenway, but it’s pretty close.

During the top half of the seventh, while the visiting team is batting, Hawks fans inflate their big yellow balloons -- they’re about 3 feet long. It is quite a sight when we have big crowds, and opening day provided just that.

After the inning ends, our fight song is played. Fans sing along and move their balloons up and down with the music. They have a set routine and you’d better know what it is -- my 7-year-old son has it down. When the song ends, fans let their balloons go. If you have never seen 20,000 or so balloons released at the same time, then you have to come to Japan.

These balloons seem to release their air slower than your garden variety birthday balloon and they make a pretty high-pitched squeal. It is a really cool tradition that is worth seeing at least once. Most of the balloons don’t make it onto the field, and the ones that do are quickly picked up by security and field personnel.

One minute after the balloons are released, you would have never known they were there.

These fans love it so much that if the team wins, they do it again after the game and call them “Victory Balloons.” The only difference is they switch from yellow to white.

I get the feeling the Japanese will use any excuse to blow up a balloon and let it go.