Sports matches are a great window into a culture. Photo / Unsplash
Don’t love sports? Ash Jurberg explains why you should still attend a game while travelling.
Sitting in the rain for three hours without a raincoat sounds miserable. Especially with two young kids in tow. But it wasn’t.
Looking up and seeing a sky of yellow balloons, surrounded by happy Japanese fans clapping in unison, with a cold beer in my hand, I couldn’t have been happier.
We were in Osaka, Japan, attending a baseball game. At times, it felt like a karaoke session with a game as a side attraction.
To me, baseball isn’t the most exciting sport, but this was an experience. We sat among passionate supporters who taught us choreographed chants and showed us when to release our balloons during the seventh-inning break.
It was a highlight of our trip to Japan.
I’ve been to 110 countries and learned something useful. If you want to understand a place, go to a game. Any game.
I first learned this at the biggest sporting event in the world, the soccer World Cup in South Africa.
The matches are fun, but I spent far more time at fan festival sites than inside stadiums. These free outdoor venues drew thousands of people from everywhere. Brazilians next to Germans next to South Koreans, all watching soccer on giant screens, eating, drinking, and sharing conversations.
Even locals who didn’t care about soccer showed up for the atmosphere.
Every city I went to had the same energy. Restaurants were full, and bars were packed. In the streets, strangers swapped shirts and scarves, traded pins from their home countries.
I talked with people from every continent. One night, packed into a Johannesburg pub with supporters from a dozen countries, I noticed a staff member eyeing my jersey, so I offered to swap with him. He wasn’t wearing a jersey at the time, so I walked away with a staff shirt instead. It became my favourite souvenir of the trip.
This isn’t limited to huge global events.
While on a tour in Bhutan, my guide asked if I wanted to see the national sport. I said, of course, unsure what it was.
Minutes later, I was standing on the sideline as archers in colourful costumes competed. Archery isn’t a sport I would ordinarily watch.
Especially as games in Bhutan often stretch across a few days (and I thought test cricket was slow!). The man beside me explained that teams employ astrologers to select members based on signs and omens and even place curses on opponents.
The most surprising moment came when a team hit a bullseye.
The game paused, and the scoring team formed a circle, singing a folk song and performing a dance.
There were no over-the-top celebrations, as seen for wickets, tries, or goals, but rather a team singing session.
It felt more like a cultural performance than a sporting event. I stayed there far longer than I expected. Intrigued by the foreigner in the stand, I was even invited to join the game.
Given my complete lack of archery and Bhutanese music skills, I passed up the opportunity, which was probably for the best.
In Helsinki, I stood in a crowd at the World Ice Hockey Championships, struggling to track a puck that moved at lightning speed.
Between periods, the crowd around me began singing. They taught me their rude chants about their fierce rivals, laughing as I botched the words. After a few beers, nobody cared.
I have long forgotten the final score, but I haven’t forgotten linking arms between two six-foot-four blonde men and shouting until my voice was hoarse.
The pattern repeats at every sporting event I’ve attended.
Meeting people, picking up their rituals, being caught in the passion of local spectators. Shouting words I can’t pronounce at players I don’t know.
My kids forgot the temples we visited in Japan but they still talk about singing in the rain at a baseball game with thousands of strangers.
Next time you’re planning a trip, check what’s on.
Not just major tournaments. Local leagues, college games, and even niche sports that are barely known elsewhere. Tickets for local matches are usually cheap and available on the day.
Even if you can’t get tickets, you can enjoy the experience. Fan zones at big tournaments are free and often more fun than the actual games, while local bars are packed for big sporting contests.
You don’t need to understand the rules or know the players. Support the local team and enjoy what happens around the game.
The rituals, the noise, the conversations with strangers who want to share why this game is so important to them.
Sometimes you’ll leave after an hour. Sometimes you’ll sit for four hours in the pouring rain holding yellow balloons.
Either way, you’ll learn more about that place than any guidebook could teach you.