I had the hats ready; that part was not an accident.
It was 8:00 in the morning for me, 10:00 at night for Ken, Hafu.ken, in Japan. He’s half-Japanese, half-American, currently playing ball over there, and just the right person I needed to talk to about Japanese baseball. I didn’t try to act like I knew more than I did. That’s one of my favorite parts of doing this: getting to sit across from someone, ask real questions, and learn the game through their perspective and culture. Before we got too deep into Japanese baseball, Ken had to fix how I was saying things. But that is the point of doing this.
Ken explained that Japanese uses the same five vowel sounds as Spanish. Which immediately made me feel both excited to learn and mad that I waited so long. I’m Puerto Rican, and I don’t speak Spanish fluently, but I can hang a little bit. So apparently, there is a pronunciation advantage from the family tree, and I had no idea.
Language is not just pronunciation, it’s rhythm and part of culture. It’s how some objects can move strategically through a place without bumping into everything. And if I’m going to understand Japanese baseball, I probably need to get a bit more serious. Even if the first lesson is me learning I’ve been saying the ballpark name wrong.
Koshien: high school baseball, but not “high school baseball” the way Americans think.
It’s possibly the mecca for baseball tournaments- if you don’t know, now you know. Here‘s a link to check it out further. All I know is, I need to see some games there.
Corporate ball.
I thought when Ken said “Corporate ball”, he meant the NPB (Nippon Professional Baseball Organization). I thought it was a nickname, but nope, it’s a completely different league. Panasonic has a baseball team. Mitsubishi has a baseball team. Nissan has a baseball team. Okay, companies sponsor teams. Companies can own teams. Companies put their names on stadiums, dugouts, foul poles, pitching mounds, and helmets. Nothing surprising yet, then Ken kept talking.
The players are company employees, OK, still with him. They get paid by the company, yes, that makes sense. Their job is baseball. Not “they work for Panasonic and then play baseball after work.” Not “they have a normal job, and the company team is a side thing.” The job is baseball. Eight hours of baseball. That is the workday. Practice, train, play. Represent the company. Be a baseball player on company time. That doesn’t sound like that much of a drastic difference from American pro-ball, really. Except, you can go from throwing bullpens to possibly answering emails in a cubicle- with the same company. That is different.
I‘m sure the companies have their reasons- tax write-offs, etc., in America, baseball has this habit of telling players to chase the dream with everything they have, then act surprised when the dream comes with no benefits, no stability, no backup plan, and an odd living situation. Corporate ball sounds weird until you compare it to that. At least here, everyone knows the deal. You play baseball, and the company knows your job is baseball. You get paid to play baseball. And when it decides your elbow, shoulder, or your usefulness is no longer needed… maybe your life does not immediately turn into a “what comes next scenario?” I had fun with the idea of a player finishing their career and getting absorbed into the company, like, “Great career. Sales is on the third floor.”
The Grounds Crew Impersonation
This is the detail I can’t get away from. After the fifth inning, it’s time to rake the infield. The grounds crew doesn’t do this, no, the players do, they are the grounds crew. That’s unique, and it also says a lot. In America, I feel that the sport keeps finding ways to remove feel from the game. While in Japan, a pitcher might be trying to stay warm while his teammates drag the dirt. That’s a different baseball culture; it’s something different. And honestly, I love it.
Fourteen hours
Ken had a game in fourteen hours. That’s the part that brought it back down to earth. He still had to shave, sleep, and get to the field. Maybe rake, maybe pitch.
What stuck with me was that Ken wasn’t just explaining Japanese baseball. He is living it. Player. Translator. Teacher. Cultural guide. Bridge. The guy who can tell you what the sign says, what the word means, and why the thing matters before you embarrass yourself.
If you’re trying to understand Japan through baseball — or baseball through Japan — Hafu.ken is probably a good person to know. Give him a follow! @hafu.ken on Instagram.
If you’re an athlete, coach, team, creator, or baseball person with a story worth telling - I can help shape it.
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If you need a teammate with a camera, a notebook, and a slightly overactive baseball brain — reach out. DM or email me crod@9inningnomad.com.