I've never worked for a paper whose circulation was more than 100,000 (on Sundays). Yesterday I visited a paper whose circulation is 10 million and change.

OK, OK before you start yawning, let me give you a few juicy facts. The Yomiuri Shimbun, which describes itself as the largest paper in the world, takes its name from the Japanese phrase, yomi-uri, or "selling a newspaper while reading." This derives from the original newsboys, who a couple of centuries ago walked around with papers delivering the news in a sing-song voice.

The paper's parent company owns everything from a symphony orchestra to an Eye Bank to a helicopter service (Sirius) that takes to the air to get news stories and has its own department, which resembles a group of kibitzing air traffic controllers. But its best-known holding is Japan's oldest major league baseball team, the Yomiuri Giants.

A banner curving along the front of the newspaper's 10-story Tokyo headquarters proclaimed the team's recent win of the Central League Crown. The team is headed for the Japanese equivalent of the World Series next week. But when the team doesn't do well, the newspaper's phones ring off the hook, said Satoru Watanabe, deputy international editor and manager for international affairs. Who takes the calls from irate readers, I asked.

"Everyone," he said. "Including the international news department."

Let's put this in context. Pretend a certain Boston baseball team was known as the New Hampshire Union Leader Red Sox. Imagine things weren't going well (no, I'm not trying to jinx the team; stop your superstitious blather). Say Manny was having one of his episodes. I'm sitting at my desk in the newsroom that night. The phone rings.

Caller: "You've got to do something about Manny."
Me: "What?"
Caller: "I don't know. You people own the team. Just do something."
Me: "I'll get right on that."

Mr. Watanabe says no one at the paper likes getting these calls. And don't forget that in between baseball criticism the newspaper (delivered to 1 in 5 households in Japan) has 346 news bureaus and 34 overseas newsgathering centers. Its North Tokyo printing plant can crank out 85,000 copies per hour (there are 28 other printing plants in Japan, not to mention the ones in London, Bangkok and Hong Kong). It employs 2,700 reporters inside the country and 60 reporters overseas.

The paper recently expanded its sports and science departments, despite seeing a 1 percent circulation loss in the last year, and maintains two smoking rooms (cigarettes are big in Japan) as well as 6,000 personal computers. The "personal computer department," separate from IT, boasts a dozen frantic people.

In the room across the hall, a group of junior high kids were busy putting out the Yomiuri Junior Press.

"Many eventually get jobs at the paper," Mr. Watanabe said. "Some of the reporters working here now started there. It's been going on for more than 30 years."

Despite the presence of these young whippersnappers, the paper is dealing with an aging readership -- 22 percent of Japan's population is 65 or over. In fact, the newspaper is almost one-third wider than American papers, and this is partly because the type has to be large to accommodate the aging eyes of readers.

When I suggested the paper consider reducing its size to save newsprint (as nearly all American papers have), Mr. Watanabe looked wistful.

"I wish we could," he said. "But our readers would not be happy."

Just think of the phone calls they'd get...