"It sounds like thunder." Confusion to panic then relief to thunder. It was surreal walking into this 1920's major league stadium. Everything molded together with weathered, dingy concrete. At the top of the steps, upon climbing into view of the field and it's over capacity crowd of some 14,000, I was dreaming. Like the first time I went to the Vet and climbed all that concrete to see my first professional baseball game.
Don't get me wrong, the level of play is not comparable to the MLB but games back home aren't nearly as fun. Korean fans are devoted in a way that Jimmy Buffet fans are devoted. Buffet is not the best musical performer, but his concerts have an uncontrollable fun-ness to them that many would say is the best thing about being a "parrot-head."
I want to be called Kia Tiger-head.
Every game is byob. Vendors outside hawk everything from fried chicken to dried squid. Rice wine to cases of cheap beer. And you can bring in as much as you can carry. Now maybe this is my old age talking but it's surprisingly nice that given such little restriction, people can behave themselves and not be total assholes. The family environment is maintained and everybody still has a good time.
We sat in perhaps the worse seats, on the aisle steps in left center field, but I could not have been happier. We had children to our left shouting the scripted chants for every player in the lineup and grand-fathers swaying atop grey pillars sharing soju with passerby's. It didn't hurt that there was a convenience store in dead center that sold 6 packs for $10, ice cream, peanuts, and anything else. It was unbelievable.
I miss Phillies games big time, especially now that it's summer, but when I was at this game I became a kid of wide-eyed and care free splendor. Albeit with two 6-packs under his little kiddy arms.
Korean Baseball, check.
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