Anyone who’s ever cycled along the misty dikes of the Vecht in the early morning knows the scene: a quiet so thick you can almost touch it, reeds swaying in the breeze, and two men at the water’s edge. Not talking. Not scrolling. Just watching. Waiting. Raoul and Menco, co-owners of Ballpark Store in Weesp, are trout fishing. Not for sport. Not for trophies. But for presence. And as it turns out, it’s a lens through which they view everything they do – including their store.
The Beauty of the Subtle
Trout fishing is not a spectacle. There’s no adrenaline, no roaring crowd. It’s an exercise in focus. In listening to stillness. You choose your spot carefully, you read the water, you think through your approach. It slows you down – and in that slowing down, you start to notice more. You begin to really see.
That’s exactly how Raoul and Menco look at clothing. Ballpark isn’t about fast fashion or trend-chasing. It’s about nuance. About textures that reward attention. Fits that speak without shouting. Brands that don’t scream for exposure but are quietly crafted in small ateliers. The same sensitivity they hone by the water shapes their buying, their styling, their entire way of running the store.
Friendship at the Core
Raoul and Menco aren’t business partners in the classic sense. They’re friends. Long before Ballpark existed, fashion was something they both felt more than articulated. Fishing was their first shared language – a quiet ritual that formed a bond not built on words, but on instinct. It’s the kind of friendship that doesn’t need to be explained.
Maybe that’s what makes Ballpark feel different. The store is built on mutual trust, honest choices, and a shared perspective. Nothing is random. Everything flows from observation, feeling, alignment – just like fishing.
Craft Above All
What connects Raoul and Menco to both trout and tailoring is a deep respect for craft. For the human hand behind the product. Whether it’s SHATSU's master tailor in Porto or an old fisherman in the Veluwe who once taught them how to really cast a line – they have a quiet, almost romantic love for things made with care. Not just beautiful, but honest.
You see it in everything at Ballpark: the brands that stay small to protect their process. The resistance to speed, to seasonality dictated by algorithms. Ballpark is a store, yes – but also a time capsule. A place where things are allowed to take time.
A Store Like a Fishing Spot
In a way, Ballpark has become its own kind of fishing spot. Not a place you visit just to shop, but to find something. A conversation. A new favorite piece. A feeling of ease. Customers linger. They feel seen. The store is personal, unforced. Like dropping by a friend’s place – one who just happens to have impeccable taste in jackets and trousers.
The fishing continues. Always. Sometimes weekly. Not because the catch matters, but because the ritual does. It reminds them why they do this – and how they want to keep doing it: with care, with patience, with love. For the water. For the fabric. For each other.