Category Archives: baseball

Black Ships, Bêsubôru, and Big Macs

Baseball reached Japan the way it reached most of the rest of Asia, courtesy of missionaries and the military during the heady days of U.S. expansion. Commodore Matthew Perry arrived with his Black Ships in 1853 and forced the Japanese to end nearly three hundred years of feudal isolation and open their ports to the West. Little more than a decade later, the Japanese embarked on a national revolution, the Meiji Restoration, designed to unite the country under a strong central leadership and avoid foreign domination by embracing those areas such as education, technology, and military tactics where the West seemed superior.

During the early years of the Meiji Era (1867-1912), Horace Wilson, a young American brought in to teach history and English at Tokyo’s Kaisei Gakkô (now Tokyo University), introduced his students to the fundamentals of baseball. The exact date, even the year, seems lost in history. But it was some time between 1867 and 1873 because by the latter year, another American teacher, Albert Bates, is credited with organizing the first formal baseball game in Japan. That game was played at Kaitaku University in Tokyo and is widely accepted as the birth of baseball in Japan.

Few historians, and even fewer fans, realize that baseball was being played in China more than a decade before Bates organized the first game in Japan. Baseball can trace its roots in China back to at least 1863, when the Shanghai Baseball Club was formed, two generations before the collapse of the Qing Dynasty. But while baseball was confined mainly to the expatriate community and a scant few Western schools in China, the game was almost immediately popular in Japan–first among elite university students and later among the population at large.

By 1878, Japan had its first organized team, the Shinbashi Athletic Club Athletics, founded by railway engineer Hiroshi Hiraoka, who had become a die-hard Boston Red Sox fan while studying in the United States. By the 1890s, baseball was hailed as “the fastest-growing college sport” in Japan. And by 1922, University of Chicago coach and educator Nels Norgren declared baseball already had become “more the national sport of Japan than it is of America.”

A world war that pitted the baseball-loving lands of Japan and the United States against one another did little to slow the progress of the sport in Asia. If anything, the war quickened and legitimized devotion to baseball in Japan–and thence the rest of Asia. True, the dream of U.S. Army Major Roger B. Doulens still is a long way from reality. Doulens wrote to The Sporting News in March 1946 and painted a picture of the happy day–perhaps, he said, as early as 1955–when a shortstop for the Shanghai Spartans of the Yellow River League might be sold to the New York Giants for 500,000 Chinese dollars.

By 1955, Chinese dollars had fled the mainland to Taiwan. There were no Shanghai Spartans, no Yellow River League. And there certainly wasn’t a shortstop within a thousand miles of Shanghai who could displace Alvin Dark of the Giants. But nearly half a century later, amateur baseball is gaining a measure of popularity in China. A baseball stadium recently was built in Ulan Bator, the capital of Mongolia. Professional baseball leagues–highly competitive leagues–flourish in Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and Australia. And nearly every country in Asia and Oceania competes in both the amateur International Baseball Association and the worldwide Little League baseball program.

Just as in the Americas, where the United States is baseball’s foremost power, so, too, in Asia one nation dominates the sport. Japan is the keeper and guiding light of Asian baseball. The style of play and strategy, the reaction of fans and players–even the way games are officiated and reported–all mirror Japanese values, not American. That is why scoreboards in Japan, and across Asia, have an extra column labeled “B” for bases on ball. A walk may not count as an official at bat, but it helps the team and therefore deserves a place of prominence on the scoreboard.

In 1981, Masaru Ikei, professor of Japanese diplomatic history at Keio University, wrote: “Baseball, in Japan, though an imported sport, has been assimilated into the natural culture. Japanese values have suffused the sport.” Ikei, of course, was correct. But he could have gone further. Confucian values have become rooted in baseball and have helped define the game in Asia. The Great American Game has become the Great Japanese Game in Asia largely because the Japanese suffused it with social and cultural priorities that more closely mirror their society–and those of their neighbors–than they do in North, and even South, America, where all too often money means everything and “me” is more important than “we.”

To many baseball fans in North and South America, that might sound like heresy. But to most Japanese it is reality. The Japanese have done to baseball what they did to McDonald’s hamburgers. They have taken something once thought to be “uniquely American” and turned it into something that is, without question, “intensely Japanese.”

When McDonald’s decided to expand to Japan, the company chose as its partner a Japanese businessperson who was at once both rebel and conservative. Den Fujita broke the Japanese stereotype of the team player who owed his loya!ty and identity to one of Japan’s prestigious giant corporations. He was an aggressive entrepreneur who struck it rich at age twenty-five by starting his own business importing U.S.-made golf shoes and clubs. Yet Fujita was inherently conservative enough to understand and exploit the paradox of the Japanese, who envied the success of the West but cherished their own culture to the point of exclusion. “All Japanese have an inferiority complex about anything that is foreign because everything in our culture has come from the outside,” Fujita once said. “Our writing comes from China, our Buddhism from Korea, and after the war, everything new, from Coca-Cola to IBM, came from America. Japanese people are basically anti-foreigner. We don’t like the Chinese, we don’t like the Koreans, and we especially don’t like the Americans because we lost the war to them.”

Fujita knew those feelings, and he knew how to use them to make a success of McDonald’s. He created and carefully nurtured the impression that McDonald’s was for all intents and purposes a Japanese invention. A survey done in the 1970s confirmed that the vast majority of young people in Japan believed McDonald’s was a Japanese company. A similar survey done in late 1997 by Harvard University scholar James L. Watson revealed Hong Kong University students were unaware that McDonald’s was a U.S. company. And in an article written for Foreign Affairs magazine in 2000, Watson cited other examples of the “localizations” of McDonald’s, including a story about the children of colleagues from Taiwan and South Korea who were overjoyed to see the Golden Arches in the United States. “Look! They have our kind of food here,” an eight-year-old South Korean shouted.

Much the same kind of localization, acculturation, and assimilation has occurred with baseball. The Japanese took a foreign product and made it their own–then became a driving force, and comforting example, in helping the same thing happen in other areas of Asia.

SOURCE: Taking in a Game: A History of Baseball in Asia, by Joseph A. Reaves (U. Nebraska Press, 2002), pp. 14-16

“Special books don’t come along too often – if you are capable of looking past MLB then this book is a must read; it will change your whole take on America’s game.

Only twice before have I given a book a perfect 4-ball rating – but this one gets it with no reservations at all. Run – don’t walk to your local store to get a copy of this one, or better yet order it [here].” –Jonathan Leshanksi, athomeplate.com

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Japaniizu Beesubooru, Pitchingu

More creative Japanese baseball terms of English origin: Pitching Terms

auto koosu ‘a pitch over the outside part of the plate’

in koosu ‘a pitch over the inside part the plate’

insura (< “inside slider”) ‘a slider over the inside part of the plate’

uinningu shotto ‘a pitcher’s best (“winning”) pitch’

eesu ‘ace’ (the team’s best pitcher)

oobaa suroo ‘overarm throw’

kaabu ‘curve ball’

kuikku mooshyon ‘quick throw to first base’

kontorooru ‘(pitcher’s) ball control’

shuuto ‘a pitch that shoots toward the inside corner of the plate’

suraidaa ‘slider’

supeedo booru ‘fastball’

cheenji ‘change up’

noo kon ‘lack of control’

nakkuru ‘knuckle ball’

pasu booru ‘passed ball’

battengu pitchaa ‘batting practice pitcher’

fuoa booru ‘a walk’

fuoku ‘fork ball’

furu kaunto ‘full count’ (= tsuu endo suree)

booru ‘pitch outside the strike zone; also, the pitch itself’

ririifu ‘relief pitcher, bullpen’

waindoappu ‘windup’

SOURCE: A Slightly Askew Glossary of Japanese Baseball Terms by professional translator Steven P. Venti

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Japaniizu Beesubooru, Hittingu

More creative Japanese baseball terms of English origin: Hitting Terms

abekku hoomu ran ‘back-to-back home run’ (lit. ‘dating home run’, from Fr. avec ‘with’ although most abekku are likely to be vis-à-vis, not dosey-do)

endo ran ‘(hit) and run’

ueetingu saakuru ‘on-deck circle’

oobaa ‘hit over the head of an outfielder’ (thus, reefuto oobaa, raito oobaa, sentaa oobaa)

kushyon booru ‘ball hit off the (cushioned) outfield fence’

jaasto miito ‘just meeting the ball, contact hitting’

shooto rainaa ‘line drive to short’ (cf. fuasto rainaa ‘line drive to first base’)

suitchi hittaa ‘switch hitter’

goro ‘ground ball’ (SANRUI goro ‘ground ball to third’)

hoomu in ‘run, reaching home to score’

tsuubeesu ‘two base hit, double’

taimurii ‘a timely (clutch) hit that scores a run’

taimurii eraa ‘a timely error that allows a run to score’

nokku ‘fungo’ (knocking balls into the field for fielding practice)

MANRUI hoomu ran ‘full-base home run, grand slam’

ranningu hoomu ran ‘running home run, inside-the-park home run’

fuoa booru ‘four balls, a walk’

SOURCE: A Slightly Askew Glossary of Japanese Baseball Terms by professional translator Steven P. Venti

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Japaniizu Beesubooru, Riigu endo Chiimu

This past weekend, I had the pureejaa of watching several critical innings of a 3-game series between the Tokyo Giants and the Hiroshima Carp. (I always root against the Giants, who have dominated Japanese baseball for as long as I can remember.)

The broadcasts were not subtitled, but they hardly needed to be for those who know a little bit about baseball and can recognize English terms in Japanese pronunciation. So I thought I might share some of those terms with readers who know more baseball than Japanese. My principal source is A Slightly Askew Glossary of Japanese Baseball Terms by professional translator Steven P. Venti, but I’ll concentrate only on the terms of foreign origin written in katakana, the Japanese syllabary primarily used for foreign terms (somewhat like italics in English). (See also Latham’s Guide to Japanese Baseball.) I’ll use uppercase to render portions written and pronounced as Chinese characters.

Teams and schedule

se riiguCentral League‘: Giants, Dragons, Carp, Swallows, Tigers, Bay Stars

pa riiguPacific League’: Hawks, Lions, Marines, Fighters, Blue Wave, Buffaloes (the last two about to merge)

DAI (= meejaa) riigu ‘Big (Major) League‘ (North American MLB)

shiizun ofu ‘off season’

naitaa ‘night game’

See Frank Liu’s Far East Heroes page for Japanese, Korean, and Taiwanese players in MLB.

Next up, in the ueetingu saakuru (‘on-deck circle’): hitting terms.

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Buruma on the Kiss of Democracy

Here’s another selection from Ian Buruma’s chapter on the Occupation–“Tokyo Boogie-Woogie”–in his book Inventing Japan: 1853-1964 (Modern Library Chronicles, 2003).

Demokurashii was to be instilled in the Japanese people as though none of them had heard of the concept before. This involved, among other things, the “three S’s”: sex, screen, and sport. Baseball was encouraged as an intrinsically democratic game. American tutors were concerned about the feudalistic relations between Japanese men and women, who never held hands, let alone kissed in public. Kissing scenes in prewar Hollywood movies had been censored in Japan. So the occupation authorities decreed that henceforth there should be kissing in Japanese films. The first movie to take the plunge was entitled 20-Year-Old Youth and created a sensation. One zealous occupation officer had the smart idea that square dancing would be an ideal way to liberate Japanese from feudalism and introduced this novelty to some rural folks.

There was a great deal of idealism, as well as naïveté, in the American attempt to bring democracy to Japan. As always, idealism breeds hypocrisy. For even as the Japanese were lectured on their right to free speech, criticism of occupation policies was banned. Satirical cartoons of SCAP were forbidden. And SCAP officials were so keen to present the United States and its citizens as models of virtue and probity that unfavorable views were censored. The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck’s novel about American poverty, was banned, as were books and films about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Much as kissing, hand-holding, and dancing were to be encouraged among the Japanese, photographs of GIs fraternizing with local girls were out of bounds. However, since the right to free speech was part of the American way, mention of occupation censorship was also strictly forbidden.

The lessons of American culture were most effective when they were imparted on an unofficial and thus voluntary basis. After almost ten years of cultural deprivation and military propaganda, most Japanese were hungry for anything foreign and upbeat. During the war, “films about personal happiness” had been expressly forbidden in Japan. So Glenn Miller and Betty Grable probably did more for Japanese liberation than any number of high-minded lectures on demokurashii. Not since the late 1920s and early 1930s had there been such a taste for ero guro nansensu, the erotic, the grotesque, and the absurd: Strip shows were popular, as were pinup magazines with such exotic titles as L’Amour, Liebe, Nightclub, and Neo-Riberal (sic). Millions of people were hungry and homeless. Orphans were sleeping in the railway stations. But the big hit of 1948 was entitled “Tokyo Boogie-Woogie.”

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The Prewar Russian Community in Korea

About a decade ago, Donald N. Clark, a former Presbyterian missionary kid who grew up in Pyongyang, published a fascinating chapter entitled “Vanished Exiles: The Prewar Russian Community in Korea” in a fairly obscure book of conference papers. A couple of current Russian exiles in Korea and Australia have made that poignant tale available on the web. (The chapter later ended up in Clark’s book entitled Living Dangerously in Korea: The Western Experience, 1900-1950 (Eastbridge, 2003).

[The] nineteenth century wave of railroad development brought many kinds of Russians to East Asia: officials, railroad workers, miners, laborers, adventurers, pensioners, priests, and hunters. They represented various ethnic backgrounds: some were Caucasian, while others were Mongol, Siberian, and even Turkic. Beginning in the 1890s, a certain number of them migrated via Manchuria into northern Korea, where they turned up in small provincial towns supporting themselves by whatever trade they could find. In fact, throughout the history of their community down to World War II, the thing that distinguishes them most dramatically from other Westerners in Korea (if a Turkic Russian can be called “Western”) was their complete lack of any institutional support: they had no medical plans or pensions or access to special schools for their children and were entirely dependent on whatever opportunities they found wherever they happened to settle. They were truly “displaced persons,” at the mercy of the international political currents in the early twentieth century….

The Bolsheviks had not yet appeared in the Far East when Sergei and Natalya Tchirkine reached Seoul, and the Russian compound there was still in Czarist hands. The Tchirkines were assigned an apartment next to the Orthodox Church, alongside several other stalwarts of the congregation. Sergei found a desk job in the Bank of Chosen. Natalya took a diamond ring which Sergei had bought in Bukhara, sold the stone, went to Harbin for a course in hairdressing, and opened a parlor in Chôngdong. Twin sons, Cyril and Vladimir, were born in 1924, and Natalya adjusted by working at home giving music lessons and running a dressmaking studio. Sergei moved to the tourist bureau to handle foreign-language correspondence and edit publicity. He later began teaching languages at Keijo Imperial University and Seoul Foreign School. These combined labors earned enough to maintain a dignified existence as leaders of the Russian community in Seoul….

Without a doubt, the most remarkable pocket of Russians in prewar Korea was a place called Novina, a resort near Ch’ôngjin [Jp. Seishin], maintained for more than twenty years by the White Russian exile George Yankovsky, sometimes called “Asia’s Greatest Tiger Hunter.” George Yankovsky’s father Mikhail Jankovskii originally was a Polish nobleman who was exiled to Siberia by the Russians when they crushed the Polish rebellion in the 1860s. In Siberia Jankovskii remade himself as a Russian named Yankovsky, found his way to the Bay of Posset south of Vladivostok, a rugged and unoccupied seacoast where he established himself in what might be called a feudal fief, which he named Sidemy, the “Sitting Place.” There he set about building up a herd of the little Sika deer whose antlers were so prized by declining Chinese men. His neighbors were mainly wolves and bandits, the notorious Manchurian honghuzi, or “Red Beards,” so Yankovsky also recruited a private army–of Koreans, as it turned out, because he mistrusted all Chinese as potential honghuzi. With his Korean “subjects,” as they called themselves, he hunted–in no particular order–bandits, wolves, tigers, leopards, and boar, becoming a first-class naturalist in the process. In fact, items in the flora and fauna of the Ussuri country still bear his name: the swan Cygnus jankowskii, the bunting Emberiza jankowskii, and the beetle Captolabrus jankowskii, among others….

Novina lasted nineteen years, from 1926 to 1945, during which White Russian communities all across East Asia used it as a prime vacation spot. The Yankovskys drummed up business with a brochure, which they mailed to Harbin, Tianjin, and Shanghai. Ironically, however, few Westerners within Korea ever paid much attention to Novina or even knew of its existence. This was partly because most of them used English, spoke no Russian, and preferred their own resorts at Sôrae and Wonsan. It was also because the Yankovskys started out regarding Novina as an “invitation-only” place for their far-flung relatives and friends and not a public place. As years passed it became more commercial, with rental cabins on the hillside, but it never lost the family flavour. It remained George Yankovsky’s homestead, first and foremost: his farm, his deer and horse pasture, and his hunting base. On a cliff above the river he built the family’s main house, an interesting building constructed around the trunk of a great tree that appeared to be holding it in place. Above the house he built a “Tower of the Ancestors,” a replica of one of the Sidemy towers, and next to this a lodge that was partly in a cave that the family used as a kind of Great Hall. Below, he stretched a chain bridge across the Chuûl [Jp. Shuotsu] River, and farther down he built a row of huts for his servants and farmhands. There were orchards for apples and pears, fields for vegetables, and hives for honey, all tended by Novina’s Korean workers, while the mountain forests furnished unlimited venison, pork, and pheasant. Evenings at Novina often featured dinners with as many as twenty people seated at the dining table, followed by vodka and storytelling by the fireplace in the cave.

George and Daisy Yankovsky’s children–daughters Muza and Victoria, and sons Valerii, Arsenii, and Yuri–grew up at Novina. As part of their Swiss Family Robinson existence the Yankovskys maintained a surprising standard of civilization. Educating children was the duty of Novina’s “home gymnasium” teacher who came from Harbin to teach in the camp’s Great Hall. Sunday services also took place there, with especially memorable observances for Easter. And summer was Novina’s theater season: Daisy’s family, the Sheverdloffs, had some stage background and her relatives in Shanghai were connected with White Russians in the entertainment business there. Many of these sought the coolness of Novina in the summer and amused themselves by organizing dramas. The cast depended on who was present and was filled out by ordinary guests and Yankovsky family and retainers….

When the Soviet Red Army swept into north-eastern Korea at the end of the war, they happened on the Yankovsky colony at Novina. The Reds had several grievances against the Whites, the most recent of which was the Yankovskys’ collaboration with the Japanese army. The Japanese had treated Yankovsky preferentially, letting him own land, trade supplies, run tourist resorts, and trek through military areas, all in return for supplying the Japanese army, paying taxes, and helping keep order among the Koreans. At first it was only interrogation: George and his son Arsenii were taken to headquarters and then released. Son Valerii returned to Novina from the homestead in Manchuria to work with younger brother Yuri as a “volunteer” interpreter for the Red Army, while Arsenii interpreted for the Southern Naval Defense Area (Yuzhnii Morskoi Oboronitel’nii Rayon, or YUZHMOR) at Ch’ôngjin and for the Kontrazuedba (military intelligence, also known as SMERSH, for smyert shpionam, “death to spies”). The motives of the Yankovsky brothers in working for the Reds were simple: as SMERSH explained the situation to Arsenii, the entire family would be punished unless they cooperated. So for survival’s sake the brothers went against their family’s strong anticommunist tradition and agreed to work for the Reds….

What traces remain of this almost-forgotten Russian community in prewar Korea? Though members of the community continued in South Korea through the Korean war and after, I know of only one who remains in place, if the rumours are correct, as an underworld figure in Namdaemun Market. In 1984, Father Boris Moon of the Orthodox Church of St. Nicholas, now moved to Map’o and calling itself “Greek” Orthodox, told me there was one prewar Russian communicant left, a woman named “Tatiana,” but she would not grant me an interview.

The Yankovskys are scattered: Valerii is a poet in Moscow; “Andy Brown” [Arsenii, who worked as a spy] and Yuri are dead; and Muza and Victoria live in the California bay area. In 1991, Victoria and her son Orr Chistiakoff were invited by the local government in Vladivostok to rendezvous with Valerii at Sidemy, on the Bay of Posset, to unveil a statue of Mikhail Yankovsky and restore him to the status of pioneer and hero.

Natalya Tchirkine’s sons Vladimir and Cyril graduated with engineering degrees from the University of California at Berkeley, and worked all their lives for Pacific Gas & Electric in San Francisco. Natalya followed her sons to California in time to escape the Korean War, and supported herself as a seamstress, living to the ripe old age of 96.

The best known descendant among these Russian exiles in Korea was the actor Yul Brynner (1920-1985), who told many a tall tale about his early life, some of which have been laid to rest by his son, Columbia University Prof. Rock Brynner, whose image-filled website includes a photo of Yul at 16 with dark, wavy hair (scroll all the way to the bottom).

Several of these exiles ended up in Japan, like the founders of the Morozoff chocolate dynasty, but many of their progeny ended up in California, like the journalist and sci-fi writer Alexander Besher.

UPDATE: The Marmot adds:

I have long been fascinated with the history of the Far East’s Russian exile community — they were as remarkable a group of individuals (and not always in a positive sense) as there has ever been in modern times. Coincidentally, one of these refugees, Victor Starfin, eventually ended up on the Japanese island of Hokkaido as a youth. Starfin grew up to become one of Japanese baseball’s greatest all-time pitchers, amassing a career record of 303-176 with a life-time ERA of 2.09 — mostly with the Yomiuri Giants. In 1939, he set Japan’s single-season win record was 42. Now, this wasn’t enough to prevent the Japanese from putting Starfin under house arrest during WW II on account of his Russian heritage, but they did make it up to him in the end, eventually enshrining the pitcher in the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame, where he joins career home-run leader Sadaharu Oh — who for reasons beyond my ken still carries a Taiwanese passport to this day, apparently — as the only two foreign players in the Hall. Of course, this assumes one doesn’t count Masaichi Kaneda, the greatest pitcher in Japanese history (the man holds Japan’s career win record despite playing much of his career for a shitty team) who just happened to be an ethnic Korean (and quite proud of it, it’s said).

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