Crawling to Dance on the Stage Where I Should Take Flight

Today, a friend of my mother's invited me to join a ballet lesson, saying, "Why not try it for a change of pace?" The fresh physical movements felt like Pilates, and it was such a special time where I felt that I could apply what I learned to building a body that doesn't get injured, as well as to the baseball I still play today.

I had mentally categorized it as something difficult (though difficult things are indeed difficult), but I learned that moving the body as one intends, realizing that just being "flexible" has its limits, tilting the pelvis forward or backward, sensing the fingertips, and moving various joints and muscles to express oneself—all of it, including how to stretch and being conscious of my breathing, was a wonderful experience that connects to baseball.

What left a particularly strong impression on me was how to place my center of gravity. To stand on my toes, I couldn't just put strength into my feet; I had to keep feeling the center of my body. The moment my axis wavered, every movement fell apart. I felt that this sensation applies directly to baseball as well. My stance in the batter's box, the moment a pitcher shifts their weight onto their pivot foot—all of these depend on "where you are entrusting your weight" to determine the result.

I also felt that standing in such a unique way is perfect for stimulating nerves and muscles that aren't usually used, and for training to imprint a "body that doesn't get injured." Since I suffered from calf cramps last year, I felt that walking on my toes, jumping upward, and absorbing the impact with my knees so as not to make a sound—ways of deflecting energy and stress—might also be related to flexibility in a sense.

However, just following what I was taught isn't enough to fully internalize it into my own body. Even in a dance confined to a set form, if you don't sharpen your nerves, it won't become "art" created by a "human." This is the same in baseball.

It was an experience I went to for a change of pace, but it became a good time to think about various things. I felt like a marionette "being made to dance" on the stage of life, and I wondered if the song "Aoi Haru" (Blue Spring) by back number was capturing this kind of sentiment in its lyrics.

Speaking of "Aoi Haru," it is the theme song for Yuya Gunji, who is now the face of the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters, but it was actually used back when he was with the Chunichi Dragons.

From Dragons Blue to Fighters Blue—it feels like a connection linked by some kind of causality, and I can't think of it as a coincidence. Oh, I'm starting to get spiritual, aren't I? I think I'll save talking about the Fighters for another article.

So, I find myself wondering if I ended up in this situation by necessity. Perhaps it is a message saying, "For now, rest your wings until you dance on the stage where you are meant to take flight."

When I left the studio with a sweaty body after the ballet experience, the world looked a little different. Knowing how to use your body might be close to knowing how to live. Baseball and dancing are, in the end, both acts of facing your own body with sincerity.

Even on creaking rails, even on a path of hardship, I will crawl along, refusing to lose, and keep wishing, "Even so." Is that what "hope" is? Since we are people who crave light, let's somehow, somehow head toward tomorrow.

I will surely never forget this sensation I learned today. I will hold onto this "spring-like" time—blue, a bit clumsy, yet certainly moving forward—with care.

And in the midst of that, I will keep believing in those days wrapped in light.

Until next time.