Ueda-san was an average-looking, middle-aged Japanese guy with a full head of hair and a Chunichi Dragons jersey on his back. He arrived just as the game began and sat to my right at the end of the aisle. He didn’t say a thing, just rummaged around in his bag and took out a container of yakisoba, which he proceed to devour in a few quick bites before sitting back to watch the game. Between innings I started making small talk and before you know it Ueda-san felt free to unburden himself on the stranger sitting next to him at Nagoya Dome. I subsequently learned about his wife’s recent death to cancer, his children’s marriages, and his desire to someday visit all the baseball stadiums in Japan and walk the Shikoku pilgrimage. At one point he realized how he had been going on and apologized for taking advantage before literally offering me the shirt off his back. As a long-time fan of the Dragons, he had dozens of jerseys, he said, and he felt like I should have this one on the occasion of my first visit to Nagoya. He had a smartphone, but he insisted he didn’t have email or Facebook and that we should confine our relationship to these few hours at the ballpark. Maybe we’ll meet again someday somewhere, he said. Maybe we will.
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