Following tradition, drunken hordes jumped into the river that flows through the heart of Osaka and made such a noise it was said you could hear it 50 kilometres away. Less dramatically, Daiei (actually the name of a department store — all the teams are known by the names of their sponsors) have almost cleaned up the Eastern League pennant.

A national obsession
But the circus ain't leaving town yet. Or ever, in fact. Baseball is a national obsession in Japan, or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a national obligation. Ask anyone in Japan if they like baseball and they will invariably raise their eyebrows at your ridiculous question and reply "of course", in the same way that a South African might say "of course I like Castle lager". The few that are brave enough to confess their dislike of the game will only sheepishly admit this unpatriotic feeling if really pushed for an answer.

Baseball is big business too. There is so much advertising money invested in the game that the TV networks would never allow it to become unpopular. The sports news is almost entirely dedicated to baseball score round-ups, daily highlights and post-match interviews. In August each year, there is an annual high school baseball tournament that is avidly followed, and even gets prime-time coverage. The keen youngsters are seen to embody all that is pure and good about the sport — and, of course, they have the chance to sign up for professional careers, if they can handle the intense pressure.

There are also nightly segments keeping fans up to date with the exploits of Japanese players who have "cracked the big time" in the American Major Leagues, the most famous being Ichiro Suzuki of the Seattle Mariners and Matsui Hideki of the New York Yankees.

Western influence
Some would say that baseball's dominance in Japan reflects the unhealthy influence that America and American popular culture have had since the occupation of Japan after World War II. Certainly, the American Majors are still looked up to as the bigger, better older brothers of their Japanese equivalents.

Others, however, would say it's a prime example of the Japanese capacity to take something from another country and turn it into a uniquely Japanese product. American expats in Japan go out of their way to point out that baseball here is completely different to the kind you might see in, say, Yankee Stadium. For one thing, the fans are more diligently enthusiastic. Travelling across the country to away games, dressed in team uniforms and colours, they chant songs accompanied by brass bands and, invariably, plastic skittles that they knock together to beat out elaborate rhythms. The noise can be deafening, but then 21st century Japan, impeccably capitalist and full of competing advertisements, is an extremely noisy place.

Most supporters' clubs also have their own trademark, such as opening and closing transparent umbrellas, or releasing balloons into the air with each home run. The stadium are equally impressive — because the summer weather in Japan involves a lot of rain, many teams now play their home games in purpose-built domes enclosed by enormous roofs and sporting bright green artificial turf.

As for the action on the field, it's pretty simple to understand (even for first-timers), and not always as exciting as the off-field hype. In fact, for those who enjoy the infinitely more complex and interesting game of cricket, it can be boring. Those who think cricket is boring, on the other hand, should sit through an 18-innings game in which not one run is scored. But baseball, Japanese-style, is an unforgettable experience!

Emperor Beckham
Second in line to baseball for the Japanese sporting throne is, of course, soccer. Japan hit the big time on the world football stage when it joint-hosted the World Cup last year, but unfortunately this didn’t give the national J-league the boost that soccer bosses were hoping for. If anything, the array of stars on display merely increased interest in the European leagues: Serie A in Italy, la Liga Espanola in Spain, and the Premiership in England.

Smiling sweetly and endorsing products ranging from watches to beer, the sport's glamour boys (including, of course, Japanese players in other countries) are hero-worshipped by people who aren’t even remotely interested in "sa-ka".

Anyone who thinks they have experienced the David Beckham Phenomenon should think again if they haven't visited Japan. The young and affluent, pre-occupied with brand name fashion and pop music, idolise Victoria (aka Posh Spice) too; but there's no doubting which half of Posh 'n Becks is the favourite.

Martial arts
So what about the more traditional sports? To many people, Japanese sport brings to mind images of big fat men in uncomfortable loincloths pushing each other around a small ring... yip, the ancient art of sumo wrestling.

Unfortunately, sumo is one of those traditional Japanese past-times that is on the decline in modern Japan. It has also become less popular as a competitive spectator sport since the retirement of the most famous yokozuna, or grand champion. This seems a pity as the sport is undeniably unique, both as a demonstration of strength and skill and as an art form.

The rules are simple — you lose the match if any part of your body other than your feet touches the ground, or if you are forced out of the ring. Charging like bulls, clashing like thunder and lightning, slapping each other to get a good grip, dancing lightly on their toes, these titans might look flabby but they also show remarkable balance and control.

There are only six big tournaments across the country each year, lasting for about 10 days each, and if you get the chance then a day out at the sumo is a must. The wrestling starts at about 11am, with the rookies and small-fry (relatively, of course) battling it out in front of a few hardcore supporters. As the day goes on, the wrestlers get bigger, as does the crowd, and when the big names appear around 5pm there is a buzz of excitement. Bouts usually only last for a few seconds, but are preceded by lengthy and elaborate rituals.

These symbolic acts — stomping the feet, throwing salt into the ring — evolved out of sumo's ancient links with Shintoism. They can get a bit repetitive, however, so the day is best broken up by frequent trips to the souvenir and refreshment stalls. There's nothing like eating a perfectly prepared bento (lunch box) to pass the time between matches.

Sumo is a distant cousin to other martial arts, which are certainly practiced as widely in Japan as in other east Asian countries. Children of the 80's and 90's, however, having grown up with Daniel-san and Mr Miyagi, may be disappointed to learn that not everyone in Japan is a black-belt in Karate or Judo. Having said that, it's compulsory in many high schools for students to learn one of the martial arts. Most elect for the wooden-sword combat of Kendo, although the high cost of the equipment acts as a deterrent when they leave school and have to pay for themselves!

As for competing in other sports on the world stage, it hardly needs to be pointed out that the perception of Japanese athletes only being successful in disciplines such as badminton and table tennis is way out of date. From tennis to the marathon, swimming to ice-skating, Japan has produced some real achievers. What's interesting is the attitude of most Japanese people to these heroes. When an athlete is successful, their performance is often portrayed as a victory for the underdog.

Many stereotypes are still cultivated in Japan and foremost among them is the big, brash, clumsy gaijin (foreigner) as opposed to the short, sharp, sensitive Japanese person. Brawn vs brain, strength vs skill, power vs perseverance — it's David knocking down Goliath, Jack outsmarting the Giant or the Tortoise overtaking the Hare. So maybe Daniel-san wasn't so far off the mark after all...