Like many Americans, I grew up watching baseball. My team, the Oakland Athletics, played in the clunky old Oakland Coliseum, known for its broken seats, peeling paint, power outages, and failing sound systems. Described as a “bland, charmless concrete monstrosity,” the Coliseum had a massive foul territory that pushed the fans far from the field. Moreover, because the structure was designed for both football and baseball, it never truly excelled at either.
I loved it.
I loved the carcinogenic hot dogs. The flat sodas. The stale beer (when I grew up). The drunks yelling insults at the opposing team. The mound of peanut shells, cigarette butts, and used hot dog wrappers piling up under everybody’s seats. In many ways, going to an A’s game was like being allowed into a dive bar, and what 10-year kid doesn’t like that?
At no point would I call the Coliseum baseball experience “cute.”
And yet, “cute” is the word I’d use to describe Es Con Field in Sapporo Japan. Cute…and hygienic…and family friendly. This is no American baseball stadium.
Consider this. As I enter Es Con stadium, I’m immediately greeted by the sight of a man at a piano, tinkling out soft, friendly music. Off to my left is a one of those motorized kiddy trains, filled up with happy, multi-child families — tooting its horn joyfully as it speeds around the concession area.
Surely the beer vendor will have some character, right?!! “Get your dogs here!” That kind of thing. Nope. The vendor closest to me is a wholesome, fresh-faced dude in his twenties—quite possibly a college student – dressed in clean-pressed shorts and a t-shirt, carrying his drinks on his back in a well-organized cooler. I ask him for directions – his eager-to-help smile is dazzling.
You’d want your daughter to marry this guy.
Is this really a baseball stadium, or are we at Disneyland? The answer, I think, is “both.”
Designed specifically for baseball and nothing else, the stadium opened in 2023 as the home field for the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters. (What IS Ham Fighting, anyway – a food fight with deli sandwiches?) With a capacity of 35,000 people, Es Con is Japan’s second retractable roof facility. Its asymmetrical playing surface is only the third natural turf field in Japanese baseball.
The stadium feels even bigger than its 35,000-person capacity, with its high roof and GIANT video billboards, straight out of Blade Runner. Needless to say, the facility is spotlessly clean, with a variety of neatly-presented Japanese & Western restaurants and concessions. “Hot Dog Fun” and “Meatful” particularly amuse me.
There is no garbage in sight. Anywhere.
Like in all Japanese ballparks, the audience is the complete opposite of raucous. I’m struck by the way the fans bang their noisemakers in sync with the cheers blaring from the loudspeakers. Up high in the stands, a full band cranks out fight music throughout the game, with each player getting his own, signature tune.
When the fans leave, they pick their garbage and deposit in the garbage cans. Often they just take their garbage home.
Attending a Japanese baseball game is a unique experience, not to be missed. And shiny-new Es Con Field, home of the Ham Fighters, might just be the place to do it. Just don’t expect colorful language or a drunken fight. Save that for your next American baseball game (or Premier Football match).
(Perhaps the most common reaction during an overseas trip is to ask, “Is the way they do things in this country better or worse than the way they do it at home?” We love comparisons, don’t we? Is Japanese baseball a better experience than the American product? In some ways yes, in some ways no. But the better question is, “How are they different?” Placing a value judgement on experience demeans it. How can we all get away from making comparisons and just start accepting differences for what they are – not better, not worse – just different?)