This Saturday article is part of the “Life in Japan” series.
Unlike the in-depth essays published on Tuesdays, this series focuses on everyday life in Japan, sharing seasonal changes and daily scenes from a more personal and familiar perspective.
Summer Koshien is over. I watched from home again this year, absorbed in the games and cheering on the high school players. In the final on August 22, Chiben Wakayama, representing Wakayama Prefecture, defeated Kendai Takasaki of Gunma Prefecture to claim its fourth championship and its first in five years.
Watching Koshien always leaves me with a small dilemma. I want every team to win. I am happy when a player scores, but when I see the pitcher’s face after giving up a hit, I start rooting for him too. Whenever one of the standout players appeared, I wondered where he might be a few years from now. Would I see him wearing a professional baseball uniform someday?
In Japan, “Koshien” is the name commonly used for the National High School Baseball Championship, held every August. The games take place at Hanshin Koshien Stadium in Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture. The name of the stadium eventually became the name people use for the tournament itself. Another national high school baseball tournament is held there in spring, so the August event is known as the Summer Koshien.
Japan has 47 prefectures, and each region holds its own qualifying tournament. In some areas, dozens of high schools take part. In others, the number exceeds one hundred. The winning school advances to Koshien as its regional representative. Hokkaido and Tokyo send two schools each, while every other prefecture sends one, making a total of 49 teams.
The tournament follows a single-elimination format. A school’s summer ends as soon as it loses. For many students in their third and final year, that game is the last one of their high school baseball career. A single pitch or hit can decide how three years of baseball will end. Only one of the 49 teams becomes champion. The other 48 finish their summer on different days and in different games.
Whenever I see a final-year player collapse in tears on the field after a game, I feel a lump in my throat. These teenage boys, around eighteen years old, forget about everyone watching, hold their teammates, and cry. Their tears look beautiful to me. In their faces, I can see the long days of practice and all the time they shared with their teammates.
The attention Koshien receives makes more sense when you know how important school clubs are in Japan. These clubs are known as bukatsu. When classes finish, students head to sports clubs such as baseball, soccer, track and field, and volleyball, or to cultural clubs for activities such as wind ensemble, art, theater, tea ceremony, and popular music.
The goals and level of commitment vary widely. Some clubs are places where students enjoy an activity with friends. Others aim to win national competitions and practice both before school and after classes. Weekends bring practice matches and tournaments, while school vacations are often used for training camps and away games. A student’s club often determines who they spend time with, what their daily schedule looks like, and how they remember their high school years.
The high school I attended was especially strong in martial arts and volleyball. I joined the popular music club and formed a band with friends. We focused on practicing songs we liked and performing at school events. I enjoyed a fairly relaxed high school life.
The serious athletes in my class had a very different schedule. They practiced early every morning and continued training after school until evening. As a tournament approached, I could sense their nerves and excitement even when we were sitting in the classroom. They gave everything they had, laughed with their teammates, and cried after their matches. When I watch Koshien now, I remember them clearly.
I loved my days in the music club, but I also remember feeling a little envious of them. I think part of me longed for the experience of giving everything I had while working toward a championship with a team. High school is years behind me now, and I can see that we each had our own kind of youth.
Some students choose their high school according to the club they want to join. They may leave their hometown, enroll in a school known for a particular sport, and live in a dormitory away from their parents. Some begin thinking about high school while they are still in junior high. They may be admitted through a special recommendation based on their athletic ability or recruited directly by a school. At around fifteen, some choose to live away from their families and spend their high school years pursuing a national championship with their teammates.
Some powerhouse schools offer dedicated sports or physical education courses. Students study subjects such as Japanese, mathematics, and English, while also taking specialized classes in physical education, training, and sports studies. At some schools, practice begins during the afternoon class schedule, using dedicated grounds or indoor training facilities. High school life can look completely different depending on the school and course a student chooses.
Of the 49 schools that reached Koshien this year, 40 were private and nine were public. Some private powerhouse schools recruit players from across Japan and provide dormitories and dedicated training facilities. A student’s competition record and results may affect admission or selection for a sports course. At some schools, earning a place in the baseball club is already highly competitive.
The size of a team also varies greatly. Kendai Takasaki, one of this year’s finalists, had 121 players and managers. Only 20 players can be registered for Koshien. Many students compete for those places, while also supporting the team by helping with practice, analyzing data, managing equipment, and cheering.
Chiben Wakayama, this year’s champion, has a much smaller baseball club, with around 13 students in each year and about 40 in total. The school has a sports course for members of the baseball and track-and-field teams, and baseball players begin practice during their fifth- or sixth-period physical education classes. This year’s final brought together a 121-member club and a team with only around 13 students in each year. They had reached the same stage through very different systems.
The players on the field are surrounded by teammates on the bench, scorekeepers, managers, school band members, cheering squads, fellow students, teachers, and family members. In sections of the stadium known as the Alps Stands, each school’s own songs are played. When a run is scored, students wave towels and megaphones all at once. The whole school takes part in the game alongside the players.
Summer brings major competitions for many other school clubs as well. This year’s National High School Comprehensive Sports Games, commonly known as Inter-High, featured 30 sports and ran from July 22 to August 21. High school students from around Japan competed in track and field, swimming, volleyball, basketball, judo, kendo, mountaineering, and many other events. Wind ensemble clubs also take part in district and prefectural competitions during summer, with successful groups advancing toward the All Japan Band Competition in autumn.
Koshien is watched far beyond the schools taking part. Every game is broadcast nationwide, and 44,700 people attended this year’s final. People across Japan also cheer for players from their own hometowns. I was cheering from my living room too, and several games this summer brought tears to my eyes.
I worried about the heat too. The players run, pitch, and field under strong sunlight, wearing full uniforms and caps. In the stands, students keep playing music and cheering. I worried about them as well.
Since 2023, Koshien games have included a “cooling time” after the fifth inning. Players move to an air-conditioned area, cool their bodies, and rehydrate. More days are now divided into morning and evening sessions to avoid the hottest hours. The tournament now has to make room for the heat as well as the baseball.
On August 21, temperatures reached 35°C (95°F) or higher at 126 observation points across Japan. Even in the second half of August, many regions are still recording temperatures close to body temperature.
Here in Fukuoka, where I live, the high exceeded 35°C (95°F) for four consecutive days from August 18 to 21. It reached 35.7°C (96.3°F) on the 18th and remained in the same range over the following days. On August 21, Asakura, also in Fukuoka Prefecture, recorded 38.8°C (101.8°F). The moment I step outside, the hot air presses against my whole body. I start sweating after only a short walk in the sun. The air is still hot at night, so the air conditioner stays on and I keep water nearby.
Tomorrow, August 23, Japan enters Shosho, one of the 24 solar terms. Shosho describes the time when the most severe heat begins to ease. This year, we are reaching it in the middle of full summer heat. Yet the shelves at the supermarket are already starting to change.
In the second half of August, rice harvested this year gradually begins to appear in stores as “new rice.” Japan stretches a long way from north to south, so the rice harvest takes place at different times in different regions. Harvesting begins with early rice in warmer areas such as Kyushu, and new rice from other parts of the country reaches stores as autumn progresses.
Here in Fukuoka, some of the rice planted early reached harvest time around August 20. This year’s heat has pushed development ahead by several days in some areas. The rice harvest in Fukuoka Prefecture begins in earnest in September.
Japan has official labeling rules for rice sold as “new rice.” Brown rice harvested that year and packaged by December 31 may carry the label, as can rice that is milled and packaged by the same date. A bowl of freshly cooked new rice is a simple pleasure and one of the first chances to taste that year’s harvest.
Pears and grapes are also coming into season. In Fukuoka, juicy Kosui and Hosui pears begin appearing alongside Toyomitsuhime, a variety of fig developed by the prefecture. On a hot day, a cold pear full of juice or a ripe, sweet fig already tastes like autumn.
Koshien is over and Shosho has arrived, but th
e streets still feel like midsummer. At the table, new rice and autumn fruit are beginning to appear.
In Japan, autumn is known as “the season of flavors,” because so many delicious foods come into season. The heat is still hanging on, but the foods of autumn are beginning to appear one by one. I hope to share more of them with you in Life in Japan over the coming weeks.
—Written by Sumire