Issue #7

Words by Cory Ohlendorf | Photography by Bandana

The Japanese love baseball just as much as Americans do. But the experience of going to a game is an entirely different experience. The crowds in the stands at a Japanese baseball stadium might be the hardest working fans in professional sports. They cheer and sing, they swing specialty towels in their team’s colors and have a chant for nearly every player. They pound drums and wave flags and tiny umbrellas and they do it all for the entire game. The only people working harder than them? No, not the players down on the field. The uriko, or so-called “beer girls”.

Most Americans are used to hearing a gruff male voice yelling “cold beer here!!” (or something like that), at a ballgame in the States. But here in Japan? The uriko are young women who have been the belle of the ballgame experience for decades—mostly serving beer, but some these days also offer cocktails, along with soda and tea. And unlike their male counterparts in Major League Baseball, who sell beer by the can, Japan’s beer girls spend the entire game running up and down the aisles of the stadium with pony kegs strapped to their backs, pouring draft beer on demand into cups that they pull from a utility belt that’s wrapped around their waist. It’s an undertaking that requires the uriko to carry almost thirty pounds of weight as they traverse the stadium, making those American beer vendors look like wimps.

The experience of encountering an uriko is almost ritualistic. As they navigate the aisles with grace and efficiency, the women embody a seamless blend of hospitality and high-energy performance. The uriko are not only adept at their craft but also at reading the mood of the crowd. Their ability to adapt to the ebb and flow of the game—whether it’s a tense ninth inning or a celebratory home run—makes them essential to the stadium experience. The act of pouring the perfect beer with a practiced hand—amidst the chaos of an ongoing game—is often accompanied by some cheerful banter, which transforms the mundane act of buying a beer into an actual experience. Fans don’t just receive a drink; they get to partake in a carefully curated slice of Japanese baseball culture.

Honoka Hagiwara, a 22-yaer-old uriko, told Agence France-Presse that she was attracted to the job’s “glamorous” image. Of course, the reality is a little different. She carries that keg backpack for upwards of three hours at a time. She concedes it was “physically very tough” at first, but now enjoys the highly competitive job, with over 100 rivals working any given game. They change kegs around 10 times a night with a speed that would put some Formula One pit stops to shame. And while she couldn’t count the number of stairs she climbs in a night, I could confirm that at the Tokyo Dome, she and the others sell an average of about 20,000 cups of beer at a night game. I can also confirm that the beer does taste much more delicious coming straight from an icy keg instead of being poured from a bottle or can.

When it comes to ordering, you’ll notice which beer is on offer based on the uniform being worn by the uriko. These uniforms are brightly colored, with short skirts or shorts and jerseys that feature a large logo of the beer their selling. They’ve often got flowers in their hair beneath high-brimmed caps—not unlike a baseball anime fantasy come to life. The reason urikos wear uniforms based on the beer they’re serving (instead of uniforms supporting the home team of the stadium they’re working in) is because they don’t actually work for the stadiums. Instead, they work directly for the actual beer companies.

While it’s clearly a tough job, this can sometimes be a stepping stone to fame. Some former beer girls have gone on to become TV stars. Not only are they vendors who serve spectators, but also idol-like figures that enhance the baseball experience for many. During a typical game, you can find fans not only ordering beer from these women, but also having their picture taken with them after their beer is poured from the uriko’s spray-guns. The tradition might appear outdated to some, like cheerleaders, but most fans insist that it’s all in good fun. At least, for now, the uriko serve as a reminder that baseball, especially in Japan, is not just about the numbers up on the scoreboard, but about the shared moments of excitement and camaraderie in the stands. All while enjoying a freshly pulled draft beer.

File this under “things Japan does better”: Lip balm. Because Rohto’s Mentholatum medicated balm puts that standard tube of Chapstick to shame. First, there’s the old school looks—those are authentic. The Mentholatum brand was founded in America back in 1889. That happens to be the same year that its now parent company, Rohto, was founded as a small family drugstore in Osaka, Japan. It would eventually grow into a healthcare conglomerate that would acquire Mentholatum in the late 1980s. They preserved the old fashioned recipe for this lip balm, which contains a mix of natural camphor, menthol and essential oils, which provide a minty, cooling and tingly feeling when applied. Refined lanolin and petrolatum work to create a protective barrier against the elements while conditioning and healing the lips. What I really appreciate about the balm is that it goes on smooth, isn’t sticky or shiny and doesn’t easily wear off.

Wabi-sabi (わびさび) is a concept that tends to get very personal. There’s not really a direct translation, but it breaks down to mean something like “perfectly imperfect”. It’s an appreciation for the simple and calm beauty of objects with wholesome defects. Perhaps they’re not supposed to be there, but that’s what makes something interesting and therefore, kind of beautiful. The well-worn corners of an antique table? The moss growing on the side of a stone in a garden? That hole in a jacket that’s been repaired with a sturdily-stitched patch? These are all very wabi-sabi. And it helps explain the organic aesthetic that Japan is famous for. If you look at something like their pottery, cups and bowls are often distorted and irregular because each object must be truly unique to have its own charm.