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Post Game
The entire team poses for victory souvenier after a thrilling 1-0 win.Very few vacations start for us by
going home. My brain was full of mixed signals of nostalgia and adventuredrive. Normally when I take this flight I'm alone and in the mood for calm and reflection. I slept the duration of the flight and awoke for the descent and immediately returned to work on my game plan.
Over the week prior to take-off I pulled Yuu and Yumiko aside on sepparate ocassions, educated them on what you now all know about the intertwining personal histories of my internet-idol and I and officially enlisted their assistance. I had to be frank. Now was not a time for failure. Put artlessly, If you don't get serious about the game sooner or later your career will go nowhere. In the past effort was never lacking, nor was "thought"—
but I was lacking in
productive thought last summer. And Yuki taught me to suffer for it.
I had to think about what was important this time. The qualities I need of the idealized "her," what needs be changed in me: the values I have that contribute to how I feel about things. The next step is to problematize those. I felt as though I
had reached a point where simply bridging the bifurcation of thought and action was no longer enough. I needed new layers of accretion. I won't burden the reader with any attempts to transcribe my innermost wordless understandings, but I needed to think more, I needed to plan more, I needed to act more. More. I felt enough already.
In gathered opinion, my last two relationships source their biggest problems in the speed they advanced. I seem to have amazing luck with first dates in Japan—put it that way. When I am asked—or even if I asked myself—It’s not like I didn’t want to. Who doesn't when you're in my position? Living in dowtown Montreal halfway between campus and the wildest nightlife in the country, I sometimes get the impression through my thin walls and windows that while I'm busy reading
Milton's f**king elegies, the entire world is engaging in bacchanalian group sex and I'm not invited. Plain fact is though—as despicable as you might hold me for it—because of an easy homerun in the series opener I lost respect for them and they became inexorably deluded about our futures together. Dreams, as they say, have the power to kill
us, and three word phrases have the power to make us run.
This time, If I really care about her, I won’t rush things…
- -which is my excuse for pulling my swings- -because I’m terrified of f**king things up with this girl.
This time, I won’t call it my “last chance.” I ought to know better by now that life seems to always go on, and I won’t say “but there’s something special about her” because Miss Takahashi taught me the power of romantic delusions and the tricks that hormones play on our 'transcendent' sensibilities. I must remember to avoid the temptation to say “never before...” There was only one moment in my life where this could be used earnestly in regards to a girl. The rest of the time might have been honest to feeling but not to experience.
As I stepped off the plane and felt the overflow of "home" and proximity to our third 'fated' meeting I could recognize that moments like these have come and gone a thousand more time's than I can write about in my life. This feeling...It’s not special. It happens to everyone. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth
Japan tourist moment1
Yumiko and Yuuki with the cash-fans (presents for me and Gen from Soon-Mi and Minami) fighting for.
Despite my temtations to label her as such she is not a Goddess, nor or a muse carried on the west wind, nor a asked-answered angel. She is a product of beautiful coincidence. Despite my pretension and assertions of fate bestowed self-importance, I am nobody. I am an E-list internet celebrity for a few months every year while I screw around on a pacific island nation anticipating true love, baseball victory and my next paycheck. I am privileged to have a few loyal readers keep track of my bullsh*t when they are not busy with their real jobs or their own search for meaning and hapiness in (post)modern life. She and I not the subjects of a Tennyson lyric, a Puccini opera, or a dating-sim. We belong to this real and present frame of time.
What was different about it? ...That was there.
Just like me. Just like she.
For a 10 days I'd have the chance to make something work. That was good enough for me.
Being thus resloved to love my half-rotted, half-divine human state, I picked up my bags and met my loving mother in the dim airport parking lot and we
drove home. Soon-Mi's flight had yet to arrive and a shortage in the availability of cars made two trips necessary—a hastle but advantageous in that it gave me the aesthetic distinction of being the only member of the welcome party and choice of music for their first north-american car ride. If you thought the planning wouldn't go as far as
that- -think again kids.
Although it mightn't seem that way to the untrained ovserver, Baseball is a thinking mans game. Every single inch of field, every ordering, every change, every shift is a facet of a grand equation designed to combat the wiles of random chance that every at-bat brings. It is a sport of maximizing and minimizing probabilities. I had drawn my game plan, accounted for all forseeable contingencies and was ready and waiting for a fight.
While Yumiko and Yuu started touring my house and photodocumenting every object in my house that triggered a nervous impulse, I reapplied my deodorant and drove back out to the airport in my five-seater Toyota to pick up team Soon-Mi. When I got to the airport, I busied myself by asking strangers at the arrival doors which flight they had
Signs
Fact is, white people love AZN-looking sh*t. We knew we'd get on the jumbotron if we waved around random sports-related Kanji just arrived from and tried to make myself look as cool and non-chalant as possible. Some 25 minutes later, four heavily bundled Japanese walked trough the tinted automatic doors dragging an excess of baggage. I put on a wry-James Dean smirk and waited for them to notice my synthetically-relaxed figure leaned up against the wall.
Soon-Mi's hair was longer, and unstraightened. No longer the auburn hue I recalled from the day at the ballpark. Her face was framed by a goofy toque and linty-looking blue scarf. I had trouble placing her as the same girl I had said goodbye to on the train almost six months before. She was wearing a long black coat that was too hot for the day—it was a balmy 9 degrees under a Chinooking-blue Calgary sky.
Minami was easily recognizable. Even when winterized, her hipsterism is enough to put even the gaudiest NYU students to shame. Toe-to-head: black chuck-taylor's, tapered jeans, long sleeve undershirt/vest combo underneath a lime green jacket and an array of chains and a camera hung around her neck of the like that would make Flava-flave jealous, topped off with Bob Marley's hat floating mysteriously on the side of her
Signs2
little white girls bearing mild obscenities head.
I knew Shin from before, and the fourth- -Yuuki, I had never met. The four of them spun circles momentarily looking for whoever was looking for them.
Minami was the first to catch my eyes. Unsure for a moment as to whether or not it was a casual glance, she compared my extended gaze to the time blurred memory of my face. Having only spoken face to face once back in summer, it took her a moment.
. . .
"Ou- -ara..."
To which I respond with "O-hisashiburi denna!" and approach. The triangular patter of freckles under Soon-Mi's right eye becomes apparent as I near her and so does a smile that's worth more words than spend herein. Best to not get lost in description, there's yet a whole adventure to be told.
Once we're all greeted and loaded into my car, I start off their trip by giving them an introduction to the prairie-landscape and G-rap. Back at my house the two groups finally get to meet eachother over Calgary's own Big Rock Beer and sandwiches and the weary travellers rest their heads to make up for sleep lost to transit and jet
Japan tourist moment2
Gen teaches Shin American gang symbols in a beautiful moment of cultural exchange lag. I on the other hand call over Hewsie and Howell and we caught up and started planning.
They helped me draft a basic outline of the rules of Hockey, which I translated into Japanese. Tonight was the night of the big game. The Detroit Red Wings were in town (#1 in the Western Conference) my beloved Calgary Flames were 2nd in the Northwest and 7th overall, but the division was so tight that a win could've propelled them over Minnesota into 3rd behind Anaheim and Detroit.
I don't s'pose I've made much mention of it herein, but where I'm from Calgary Flames Hockey is life. To this day I still have dreams of winning game 6 of the 2004 Stanley Cup finals, and awake teary-eyed to know it wasn't real. It doesn't make much of a metaphor as far as girls go so I don't see any need to write about it often, but it's really important to me, and I wanted to show it to her.
Back in August, we'd had a blast at the Tokyo dome so I figured a live hockey game would be a rewarding experience in Candian culture. I used my
Game time
the Flames defend our net in the second period magic to hustle 16 tickets for tonight—
box seats—13th row! Food, Beer, the works... It was the first of 10 days these kids would be in my care and I had to come out blazing in the first inning- -I guess in Hockey terms that would be something equivalent to maybe a two-man deep forecheck to start the period—risky- -but you gotta take risks if you wanna make it happen. And I was feeling confident with the home field/ice advantage.
A huge group of us: Hewsie, Howell, Jeffy and his girl, the 7 Japanese nationals, my sister and her friends all grabbed rides with whowever was willing and handy and we drove down to the Saddledome—so named for it's unique concave roof. I felt invincible. I had suited up all the AZNs in borrowed Flames gear, started the hors d'oeuvre's and opened the beer fridge. The luck had graced me last time by bringing a crushing defeat down ontop the the Giants for our first date, it would do again against the Red Wings for our second. I just knew it.
We didn't have to wait long for the noise. At 11:54 in the first Alex Tanguay tried to
Game time2
Flames on the attack flip the puck over from behind net to a wide open Jarome Iginla, instead hitting Detroit's Chris Osgood in the back of the neck to bounce it inside. I love that kind of noise.
Once we were all sauced we gave the kids a lesson in Canadian pro-hockey heckling, made signs, played foozeball in between periods and watched the Flames come
under fire from a scoreless Detroit team into the final period. Supreme Douche-Bag of the NHL, Chelios, got injured in the first and sat...could this get any better? It could. And did. After enduring two heart-attack-inducing post-saves in the third, Miika Kirprusoff emerged with 38 saves for the shutout!! Flames take it 1-0, moving on to battle Minnesota for the lead of the Division on Sunday.
We win. I win.
A flawless performance of hooliganism by yours truly and the boys of 4A street and another stellar date. The trip was off to a fine start. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to her during the game, but I had 9 days to put it together. How short of a time that really is had yet to occur. We took the C-train home and
Japan tourist moment3
Yuuki passes out from thre beer during the second intermission I took the group on a detour to show her the city lights (the same view I used to take BCG to go see back in my youth). I finally got some one on one time with her. She had had a good time. The view was beautiful. The girls went to bed shortly after we got home and those with enough ready midnight oil stayed up to drink the remainder of night away.
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9
Batting Stats!~ Keep track of all your fantasy player's up to the minute online stats. Click
here to see Gen's depth chart and progress from the plate.
At Bats 1
Hits 0
3B 0
HR 0
RBI 0
Struck Out 1
AVG 000
What do you expect? It's the first day. Hang in there, I'll make miracles happen.
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generationk
G
amazing line
while I'm busy reading Milton's f**king elegies, the entire world is engaging in bacchanalian group sex and I'm not invited.