A Baseball Game, In Kyoto

It is mesmerizing, to say the least, this character, and his unremitting swings in an unrelenting drizzle, facing the corner alley in a vivid baseball game. Perhaps I am the only one who sees.

It is raining harder than ever. Glassy sheets that scatter the nearby lights and sounds as we make our way under a clear umbrella bought for around $6 at a local newsstand. It lets the light in even under the weight of all this rain.

We are turning the corners on unfamiliar streets. With no landmarks to guide us or any real sense of direction beyond the goal of finding food, we come across our first real person. Another one to brave the storm. The figure appears; a young boy, facing the wall of the alleyway. He is coiled up with a bat in hand, shoulders tensed and ready to release. Before danger slips into these words, to put it simply, with no one around to see at all, he is playing a game of baseball.

Through the downpour, he is practicing his batting stance. One foot back just before an invisible home plate, the other one a bit forward, hips over knees, under straightened shoulders. He is made up of lines and angles, shifting his weight, eyes ahead, knuckles braced for the oncoming swing.

In a moment, he is speed without sound, and the water flecks off of the wood of the bat as he follows through in consistent, practiced movements. If you look closely, the spot of light in the puddle near his foot becomes a speeding ball. The cracks in the cobblestones weave into the pattern of a stadium, and the nearby shop corners with their darkened windows, transform into the four bases.

I pause to watch as he winds up again — gripping and releasing in a bloom of motion. The puddle of light dissolves into ripples as the stray droplets hit its surface — the thrum of rain upon tin roofs becomes a roaring crowd.

It is mesmerizing, to say the least, this character, and his unremitting swings in an unrelenting drizzle, facing the corner alley in a vivid baseball game. Perhaps I am the only one who sees.

The sound of music up ahead distracts me for a moment, and I turn my gaze as we continue down the street, past the boy in the alleyway. When I look back, he has faded into the darkness of the rainy night, the stadium lights dimming, the cheers subsiding. Soaked to the bone, another one to brave the evening storm.