Mazda Zoom-Zoom Stadium Hiroshima (MAZDA Zoom-Zoom スタジアム広島), home of the Hiroshima Carp

by Dan Moeller

After having read an anthropological piece on Japanese baseball, I was especially excited to attend my first Hiroshima Carp game. I met with a lot of agreeable points in the essay. The fans cheer in strange, yet respectful ways. They only cheer when their own team is at bat. No one yells at the refs. No one mocks or harasses the other players. At my first game, there was what seemed like a college marching band helping to lead cheers. The cheers were very structured and everyone chants together. There is the common “kattobase” chant which roughly translates to “Let ‘er rip!”, a seventh inning fight song, and a few others.

When I think of baseball games in America, the first thing I think of is sitting in the nosebleed section of the old Veterans Stadium, munching on some dollar dogs and anxiously waiting for an impossible homer with my Little League baseball glove. The next thing that comes to mind is lying in the infield watching Fourth of July fireworks. And, of course, I could never forget the Phillie Phanatic blowing his toy tongue in my face for my birthday. A furry kiss from the Phanatic!

The Phillie Phanatic is a green, lovable trickster who woos the crowd with his antics; whether it be having fake arguments with the umpires, warming up in the bullpen, trying to arrest a Mets player, or riding his ATV over a New York Yankees dummy in front of their dugout. I especially enjoyed his recent Lady Gaga impersonation (OK, maybe I just spent an hour or so watching Phanatic videos on youtube).

The Phillie Phanatic in the flesh cloth (Photo from Wikimedia Commons)

He’s definitely an odd character, being a fictional animal dressed in a Phillies baseball shirt, high socks, oversized shoes, and no pants. He’s got a kooky family; he’s award winning; and he has appeared in some hilarious Sportcenter commercials. He is said to have a resemblance to the Orlando Magic’s “Stuff” mascot, but after watching the roller-skating Stuff get slingshot off a ramp to slam dunk for a halftime show I don’t really see the resemblance.

So, back to my first experience at the Mazda Stadium in Hiroshima, or, officially, the Mazda Zoom-Zoom Stadium Hiroshima (MAZDA Zoom-Zoom スタジアム広島). Really. My first impression of the actual stadium was “Wow, I guess a lot of people ride their bike to the game” (after walking the elevated path to the stadium overlooking a Walmart Supercenter-sized bike lot). Next, I was horrified that inflated food and drink prices are another part of American baseball culture that has reached Japan. After that, I became disgruntled over the fact that shirts, hats, posters, and sleeping people held nearly all the seats in the unreserved section, while my girlfriend and I reached Lewis and Clark heights to find a substandard spot on cold pavements steps.

As for the aforementioned cultural differences (and shocking likenesses) I thought, “Hey, this is Japan and I will get used to it.” But, there was one hurdle which most definitely took me by surprise: seeing Hiroshima’s Phanatic doppelganger, “Slyly.” My thought process went something like this: “That’s…that’s the…they ripped off the Philly Phanatic!” I felt like exposing this to the world, but had no outlet beside a possible cell phone snapshot from across the ballpark.

The Hiroshima Carp mascot, and Phanatic look-alike, Slyly (Photo from Wikimedia Commons)

This Slyly is a festive character, standing about the height of the Phanatic, same shape, similar oversized shoes, similar team jersey with no pants, a shaggy coat of fur, Phanatic-like party whistle tongue that playfully extends from his Phanatic-like mouth. The only real difference is that, while the Phillie Phanatic is green, Slyly is blue. Oh, the desecration, the nerve, the absurdity of impersonating my team’s mascot! It’s laughable considering:

Sly adj.

1. Clever or cunning, especially in the practice of deceit.

2. Stealthy or surreptitious

“They slyly stole our idea” is what I was thinking. I got over it pretty quick, though, complacent with my “Don’t Forget Ogata” poster, but I imagine a lot of hardcore Philadelphia fans would raise more than a ruckus over a less grievous offense. Interestingly, the two mascots, the Phanatic and Slyly, were actually produced by the same company, Harrison/Erickson, in connection with Jim Henson of “The Muppets” and “Sesame Street” fame. Does that make it ok? Hmm.

Why doesn’t Slyly live up to the Phanatic standards?

1. He has a Mohawk-ish mullet that sags down his neck.
2. His budget is much, much smaller.
3. He rides a Segway (giggle).
4. He is only 15 years old (the Phanatic…33).
4. The guy inside is a foreigner who copies the Phanatic’s moves.

It’s true, the costume-wearer is actually a Philadelphia native who has more than a bit of experience in the field. Stateside, he has performed as various mascots, not to mention being a former Phillies Phanstormer (one of the guys that helps load the hotdog- and t-shirt-shooting guns). He has admitted to “borrowing” from the Phillie Phanatic, which is quite evident from his act.

The Phanatic has some fun with visiting New York Mets players (Photo credit: shrubfan5)

The Slyly role does have some of its own culture, though. It has become a tradition to use an American for the job, and for each retiring Slyly to find his replacement. Also, the Carp management decided the Slyly performer’s identity should remain a secret (although many Japanese realized his foreignness after his faux pas of dancing through the national anthem).

So, all criticism aside, I like the idea that the Carp mascot is being performed by someone with training in my hometown. It makes me feel fuzzy inside and brings to mind some sentences involving “intercultural,” “global,” “barrier-crossing,” etc, etc. One step at a time, such a foreign and playful character might be loosening up some of the rigidity that plagues Japan.

Slyly works to energize the crowd at a Carp game (Photo credit: dhchen)

It brings to mind the Carp’s recent slogan “We’re Gonna Win!” It sounds like something ripped right from the Philadelphia Flyers, or even the EA Sports “Get in the game!” Another thing the Carp has shared with the Phillies (up until the 2008 World Series) is that they’ve been a losing team on a loooong streak. In fact, the Carp haven’t peaked above 3^rd in the pennant race since 1991. There are only 6 teams in the Central League, right? Ganbatte ne!

Armed with sun block and a soft cooler of Asahi brews, I settled into a seat behind home plate to watch the Hiroshima Toyo Carp play some ball.

It was July 6 and the Carp were taking on the Tokyo Yakult Swallows, a team nearly as bad as the Carp, who’ve lost more than half their games this year. This was one game the Carp had a chance to win. And given the Japanese people’s deep devotion to baseball, especially in Hiroshima, I figured this was one experience I shouldn’t miss while I’m in Japan.

Scanning the players, I was hit with a vague sense of de ja vu. I’m from Ohio and the Carp have the same red uniforms and “C” logo as the Cincinnati Reds back home. Ironically, they are also big losers like the Reds — not that Hiroshima residents love them any less for it.

I thought perhaps part of the Carp’s problem is that the team is named after a big, icky fish. It’s not exactly a creature that conjures images of a vicious fighter.

But it turns out that in Japanese culture, the carp is a symbol of strength and perseverance — rather fitting for a team that formed five years after the atomic bomb obliterated the city.

To the team’s credit, I didn’t see some poor sap dressed in a fat fish costume rallying the fans. The mascot is not actually a carp. It’s a furry blue dinosaur named Slyly. He was much more cuddly than a carp.

Slyly did a good job of pumping up the crowd and leading everyone through a rendition of YMCA to keep spirits high.

When the cheers roared through Shimin stadium, it was impossible not to get swept up in the team spirit. Shimin stadium is the smallest professional baseball stadium in Japan, which is probably why it sees more home runs than any other stadium. That makes for some exciting games. Even seated at the back of the first deck, I felt really close to the players on the field.

Having heard stories about notoriously aggressive Carp fans, I half expected to see hordes of crazed, beer-soaked Japanese waging peanut wars on other fans and heckling visiting players to tears.

There was none of that, though they did go a bit crazy when the Carp scored, leaping from their seats, pumping their fists and crying “Bonzai!”

The most action was definitely in the outfield seats. Those fans were the liveliest, always participating in coordinated cheers with standing and sitting and chanting of players’ names.

It was a little sad not to hear “Take me out to the ball game.” I did, however, hear the Chicken Dance song and that obnoxious Black Eyed Peas song, “Lady Lumps.” I was really hoping to hear the Japanese sing along to that one, given their trouble with L sounds, but no such luck.

My favorite part of the game was the seventh inning stretch. That’s when the crowd sang a traditional fight song. Everyone blew up long, pink, rather phallic balloons and waved them around during the song. At the end, they let go and the balloons went spiraling up into the sky before raining back down on the crowd.

In the end, the Carp lost 5-3, so I believe I had the true Carp experience. It was a good one.

The Home Stretch

This is the last year the beloved Hiroshima Toyo Carp are playing in Shimin stadium downtown, across the street from the A-Bomb Dome. A new bigger and better stadium, slated to open next spring, is being built near Hiroshima Station.

Time is winding down on the baseball season. So if you want to see the Carp play in the old stadium before it meets the mighty wrecking ball, don’t delay! The last home game will be Sept. 28 against the Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

You can find their game schedule at http://www.carp.co.jp/schedule/index.html. Home games are highlighted in pink.

Tickets prices start at 1500 yen and go up depending on where you want to sit and what extras you buy with the ticket (nomihodai seats — all-you-can-drink — run 4500 yen).

Tickets can be purchased at a number of places, including the Carp Web site, JR stations and convenience stores. Of course, they can also be purchased at the stadium. A word to the wise, though: if you want to sit in the liveliest cheering section in the outfield, buy your tickets in advance.