I went to the baseball in Seoul, it was the most remarkable sporting event of my life

Going to an American Major League Baseball game is great, but South Korea takes the stadium experience to whole new level.

Baseball has always been a part of my life. As the son of an American who obsessed over the sport, I grew up playing baseball instead of cricket in Sydney’s hot summers.

When I watched Major League Baseball with Dad, I was captivated by the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry, perplexed by the Chicago Cubs’ “curse of the billy goat”, and amazed by Barry Bonds’ dominance when he surpassed Hank Aaron’s home-run record in 2007.

Needless to say, my bar for big baseball experiences was already high. But little did I know that an unplanned trip to a South Korean baseball game at Jamsil Stadium in Seoul this year would raise that bar even higher.

When I stepped off the subway, I heard the crowd roar. It was disciplined, rhythmic, guttural and passionate, creating an almost sonic backdrop. Jamsil was built for the 1988 Seoul Olympics, which means its design follows the typical tangled concrete monolithic style of stadiums built around this time. Sound reverberates through and around the stadium’s hard surfaces and epically proportioned atriums. Thousands of fans draped in LG Twins and Lotte Giants merchandise back-slapped me, jumped in front of my camera, and threw up peace signs and smiles as I filmed. This wasn’t just any game. I already knew from outside the stadium I was about to experience the most remarkable sporting event of my life.

Stadium security was minimal. In fact, it was almost non-existent, as fans carried backpacks of food, drinks, and even alcohol. I surged with the crowd, and once in the bleachers, the scene was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced at a live sporting event.

Every play was met with a chorus of reactions that ranged from joyous cheers to collective gasps. Picture: Jeremy Drake.

The sound hit me like a KTM fast train. Cheerleaders and dancers performed with unmatched enthusiasm; their routines (and immaculate uniforms) synchronised with the crowd’s chants. Mascots roamed wild, and the investment in the game was palpable. Every play was met with a chorus of reactions that ranged from joyous cheers to collective gasps.

I always opt for seating on the first baseline. It offers the best overview of play, especially with a right-handed batter aiming for the fence. But this time, I never watched the batter. Instead, the atmosphere captivated me. The discipline of the chants was astonishing. Each section of the crowd seemed to know exactly when to join in on their “fight song” (each team has its own).

It was emotional. I hugged my new Korean mates, who had given me a pair of Lotte Giants thundersticks, and I thought of my childhood again. I found myself thinking back to those earlier baseball memories in the US. Sitting with my dad at San Francisco’s old Candlestick Park, I remembered the crack of the bat and the smell of hot dogs, and when we watched Red Sox fielding practice at Bleacher Bar beneath the big “Green Monster” at Fenway. Watching MLB is a mix of nostalgic and transcendental experiences. Still, the intensity and passion of this Korean baseball game took everything I love about the sport to another level.

Cheerleaders and dancers performed with unmatched enthusiasm. Picture: Jeremy Drake.

Like games in the US, you can still buy food in the stadium. Except, expect to pay only $3 for a pint of beer. The affordability and variety of choices are astonishing. You can grab a beer off the tap from roaming stadium staff carrying backpack kegs or wander into the central atrium and visit one of the GS25 convenience stores for an even cheaper drink, a bag of chips or even a toothbrush if you so wish.

I opted for a local tradition and grabbed what I now believe to be one of the most incredible sporting combinations of food invented – the “chimaek” – fried pieces of chicken and spicy sauce in a plastic bowl, sitting snug over a one-litre cup of beer. A straw passes through the hot chicken and sauce into the cold beer below for easy handling. While I’m not usually a fan of drinking beer through a straw, this not only defied the laws of physics, but the taste bud combination is a home run.

The evening ended with the LG Twins securing a thrilling victory. The stadium erupted in celebration, and I cheered, wholly immersed in the moment. Leaving Jamsil, the energy of the crowd still buzzed as I followed several young fans dressed in their uniforms to a bar in nearby party neighbourhood Gangnam.

My first Korean baseball game felt like more than a game; a cultural event that showcased the passion and spirit of the Korean people. Fenway might have its Green Monster, but Jamsil has its own magic: a collection of K-pop dancers, spicy chicken and enthralling fight songs that now load the bases of my memory.

The writer visited Seoul, Jeonju and Busan with InsideAsia Tour’s ‘South Korea Highlights’ itinerary and Jetstar.

Originally published as I went to the baseball in Seoul, it was the most remarkable sporting event of my life