Even If These Cheers Don't Reach You

There are moments when the cheering, which until just a moment ago was so loud I wanted to cover my ears, suddenly fades away.

Once I hear the referee's call to "begin," the world narrows down to just me and my opponent.

"No matter how much I am cheered on, I am the one who has to fight."

I would chew on that truth, as obvious as it is, over and over again during the dozens of matches I played each year.

***

In the moment of competition, silence and noise coexist.

Friends, foes, and everyone else—many eyes watch every move the athletes make, as if holding their breath. And the moment the tide of the match turns, it erupts into cheers that shake the venue.

Every time I go to watch a baseball game, this contrast I experienced comes back to me as a physical sensation.

And as I watch the two sides facing each other, a part of me thinks quite calmly that they probably can't hear our voices at all.

There is no lie in the saying that "cheers give you strength," but based on my own experience, I suspect that in the heat of the moment, they often don't even reach the ears of the players.

However, even knowing that, I cannot help but cheer; perhaps cheering is no longer for them, but for myself.

I cannot take their place, and I can only pray; in the stadium, I am a completely powerless existence. In moments when my heart is racing, when I'm anxious, and my stomach is tied in knots, the only thing I can do is raise my voice in support.

And so, even if it doesn't reach them, even if it isn't conveyed, I will continue to cheer for them today.

***

The moment the roar of the crowd returns to my ears is when it has been decided which of us has claimed victory.

There were times I returned proudly after a win, and times I hung my head after a loss, but no matter the outcome, the voices I always heard first were those of my teammates.

That is why I think cheering is, in essence, "creating a place to return to."

It may not reach them in the split seconds of the match, but it is something that makes them realize there are people who wish for their victory and success, and that even if things didn't go well this time, they have a place to come back to.

Perhaps that is what we call support.

I was thinking about such things while getting excited over Aoki's arching hit that hung like a rainbow in the rainy sky.