Japan post #4

Bad news about my legislative efforts, my friends. I've formally withdrawn my application to have the Japanese Diet recognize Draftsgiving.

Let me explain.

Yesterday we managed to make it over to the Tokyo Dome to catch some good old fashioned Far East baseball. It was a hoot, even if my beloved Nippon Ham Fighters got shut out by the Soft Bank Hawks.

The game was constant noise, all of it positive. Whenever the Hamsters (actual nickname) got up to bat, their 5,000 fans in the bleachers sections rose, screamed out complex fight songs and swayed in rythm until the half inning was over. When the Hotlanta Hawks (not an acutal nickname) got up, their 5,000 bleacher fans, segregated on the other side of the outfield, did the same.

Even though no one booed, it was awesome. Beer girls carried a quarter-keg backpack up and down the aisles. Every strikeout got a standing ovation. Every double got a standing ovation. When the Hawks star hit a grand slam (the first I've seen live) their bleacher bums nearly rioted, and the Hammies fans sat quietly.

Then came the fifth inning.

After the Hamsters went down 1-2-3, a shrill-voiced woman came on the PA and asked everyone, in English, if they knew what time it was. Everyone stood up. Cheerleaders lined the infield, and the ground crew bowed to the stands.

And then everyone started singing YMCA.

Loudly.

Everyone.

Needless to say I learned a valuable lesson: When you export culture without conscience, you can do horrible things like convince an entire nation that the seventh-inning stretch can be and should be replaced by YMCA.

Until I'm sure the people of Japan understand that the Cowboys are evil, that Mike Vick is not a quarterback, and that Fred Taylor's groin is not something to be celebrated, I can't in good conscience push the complexity of Draftsgiving on them. The legislators here seemed to understand, in that when I told the guards at the pariliment building that they did not appreciate football enough they kindly asked me to leave.

We'll wrap up our fun over here in the next few days, and spend a little more time teaching the locals to love pigskin rather than forcing them to accept the NFL as their own personal savior.