“Tradition is not the worship of ashes,” goes a quote attributed to composer Gustav Mahler, “but the preservation of fire.”
Alright, using the word “fire” to describe the history of the typically-inept Tokyo Yakult Swallows will draw some mockery from baseball people. But when it comes to the matter of tearing down the Swallows’ historic Meiji Jingu Stadium, however, it’s understandable that their fans’ emotions will burn red-hot.
As has been widely reported, the Tokyo government is planning to demolish Jingu as part of a large-scale redevelopment of the Meiji Jingu Gaien park complex. The project will also bulldoze a much-loved rugby stadium, and wipe out iconic plant- and wildlife.
In their place, the government’s project will reward us all with ever-important “commercial space” and multiple high-rise buildings for swanky office space and high-end apartments.
A new stadium will be constructed to house the Swallows, as well.
But a new stadium will never replace what Jingu means to the Swallows’ faithful. The ballpark is the centerpiece of fan life, a bridge to the past and symbol of the team itself. Losing it would be a terrific blow to the team’s culture and community.
To this Swallows fan — and to countless others — Jingu needs to be saved.
The history at stake
Jingu Stadium opened in 1926, making it the second-oldest ballpark in Japan (Hanshin Koshien Stadium opened two years earlier). In addition to housing a pro team, Jingu has also been home to two university baseball leagues since the 1920s.
Notably, it hosted a 1934 ball game featuring a team of American all-stars, including legends Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. Jingu is one of only four stadiums still standing in the world in which the iconic Ruth has played (another being Koshien).
In other Jingu lore, celebrated novelist Haruki Murakami (a famed Swallows fan and outspoken opponent of the Jingu Gaien redevelopment plan) was first struck with the idea to write a book while sitting in the stadium’s right-field seats in 1978.
Most importantly, the historic Jingu provides a steady home that ties together generations of Swallows fans into a single entity: those of us who’ve been here since the beginning, those of us who’ve been here for years and those of us who’ve just arrived with fire.
From our seats in the stands, we’ve watched decades of greats parade by on the field below. Kaneda gave way to Wakamatsu, who gave way to Ikeyama and then Furuta, who gave way to Yamada and now Murakami. Over time the names swim and blur, though we fans remain the same.
Don’t homes belong to those who’ve stayed the longest? This is why Babe Ruth matters: more than just a historic event, Ruth’s presence in our house is an encounter with an icon that has direct lineage to ourselves. Lineage that will be lost entirely in a new stadium.
The importance of history to a sports fan
What separates true fans from casual ones is the width of their concept of time. A casual fan is interested in whether a game is won or lost. A true fan cares about what that result means in a broader timeline: a season, a career or a team’s legacy.
It’s natural, then, that a true fan sees his own role not only as one body in one seat, but as a presence over an era. It’s what makes us romanticize the passing of fandom from parent to child.
A childhood friend grew up a supporter of the pro teams from Pittsburgh, his father’s hometown — a city he had never set foot in himself, and whose games were not shown on local TV. No one ever questioned it. It made sense.
A stadium can be treasured like a childhood home: a place we share with our loved ones, a place that watched us grow up, a place that stirs memories.
"A stadium can be treasured like a childhood home: a place we share with our loved ones, a place that watched us grow up, a place that stirs memories."
Everyone remembers their first game. I still have the ticket stub from mine. I was 9, and my father bundled me up on a sub-zero December afternoon to go see the Buffalo Bills, our city’s American football team. We stood clutching our hot chocolates with both hands to stave off frostbite as we roared with 80,000 of our neighbors.
Whenever I’ve returned to that stadium — eventually taller, eventually on my own money, eventually with a beer instead of a hot chocolate — I always look to that upper corner where I first sat with my dad.
This is why, in baseball, it’s etiquette for a fan who catches a foul ball to give it over to a young child sitting nearby. For the kids, these are memories that will be housed here, in this building.
Of course, we can’t preserve every old building just because they have memories. But considering how far back these particular memories stretch, and considering the significance of the history involved, there ought to be a sober re-evaluation of just how much the replacement of Jingu is truly needed.
The bottom line
Jingu Stadium remains perfectly serviceable. Replacing it is simply an act of callous, bottom-line business, and maybe vanity.
For team owners, a new stadium would be a boon. New grounds would raise the team’s image and draw more casual fans and corporate outings, groups which currently gravitate toward the higher-profile crosstown rival Yomiuri Giants. Maybe better facilities would help attract better players. There will be added revenue from ticket prices, which will surely go up.
Some fans — the unsentimental types — will welcome a shiny new stadium, as well. They might long for more spacious seats, a bigger and better scoreboard, and wider concourses to allow for more food options. It’s understandable to chase comfort, convenience and modern amenities. In our minds, these arguments are very logical.
But the heart knows things, too, and in its purest form: fandom is a matter of the heart.
Koshien Stadium (Jingu’s only elder) was fully renovated in 2010 and remains the beloved centerpiece of Hanshin Tiger fandom. Many of Jingu’s shortcomings could be solved similarly. The rest? We can live with them, as we have for decades. It’s a small price to pay to retain our history and identity.
A few years ago, several tall buildings were constructed directly next to Jingu. Horribly, they cast wide shadows over the fans on the first-base side and blocked the summer sunsets that used to make the stadium glow each evening.
If Jingu Stadium gets replaced, the rest of its fans will be left in the dark as well.
© Japan Today
2 Comments
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Alex
The thing that concerns me most about this is all the nature that will be lost - those hundreds-of-years-old trees. In a city that already has a severe lack of greenery (as evidenced by the unbearable heat in the summer), and enough empty office buildings (post-pandemic) to meet any demand. That this development project is still being rammed through despite going against the will of the residents really says it all about how much Tokyo/Japan cares about its citizens.
Marc Lowe
Very well written article. Even I couldn't have done better. Now, the government, on the other hand --- They really committed an error dropping the ball on their mishandling of Jingu Stadium. Cancel culture and money grabbing at its worst. Even Babe Ruth is crying.