戸塚祥太 の ジョーダンバットが鳴っている No. 2 [ダ・ヴィンチ 2013.12]
As always this is taken from my own personal copy of the magazine. I don't claim any ownership of the content but please do not re-post this. It is for personal use only. If you spot a mistake or think I misunderstood something, please let me know. (Originally posted September 6, 2015.)
JORDAN’S BAT IS RUMBLING
ジョーダンバットが鳴っている
by
Totsuka Shota
Very personal essays from Totsuka Shota of Johnny’s acrobatic unit A.B.C-Z. While reflecting on events this book-lover searches for “links” in the books he has read.
No. 2:『The Spy Gambit』(Conclusion)
(Summary of Part 1) I was asked to spy, to collect intel for my mother’s friend’s son who wanted to enter Johnny’s. In the spring of my first year of middle school, I miraculously made the cut at the audition even though I couldn’t do anything. One week later I was called up to perform at a Johnny’s Jr. concert. I was completely unprepared in my infiltration but I gathered some good intel like, “The choreographer is super scary.” However I didn’t remember the dance and my appearance in the show was a gruesome spectacle. I was shaken when Tackey suddenly made an entrance and completely forgot the choreography. The icing on the cake was when my shoes, which were too big, flew off in front of the spot-lit Tackey. It was an overwhelming sense of defeat------ The manager-san left word, “You don’t need to come back.” And I made my exit.
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I couldn’t tell my father that I had run away on the first day of a three-day concert. My father has the mindset of somebody in construction and is stricter when it comes to work than with anything else. If I’m remembering correctly, he’d never even taken a full day off. Over and over he’d give us this spartan saying: “A real man sticks to his principles.” A father like that would be furious at me for ignoring my responsibilities after facing a crushing defeat. There was no way I could tell him.
But I did not want to return to that concert hall a second time------. I was frantic. I can’t recall now how I explained it to my mother but I was honest with her. I suppose my face showed just how cornered I felt. For the remaining two days, we’d tell my father, “We’re off to the concert” and then my mother and I would go to a movie or something and pass the time until evening.
When my parents got married my father was 20 and my mother was 18 and they were blessed with three children at a young age. Our family was happy for the most part but daily life could be tough. My mother always had a part-time job and even during the busiest days she worried that we’d feel lonely. She understood her children. (When she would have work leafleting or something, she’d bring my younger sister and me along on the back of her bike.) As the neighborhood’s number one hellraiser, I would do things like smash the windows of my elementary school or just get up in the middle of class and go home. When I caused any kind of problem, it was always my mother who would make the rounds with me, lowering our heads in apology. Only to my mother could I say, frankly, “I don’t wanna go back to Johnny’s.” So perhaps those memories are also relevant.
Anyways, at this point my spy activities also came to an end. As both a Jr. and a spy, the final result was failure. But I was relieved to return to my life as an ordinary middle school student.
However, three months after my horrific debut performance, God dealt me yet another strange hand. A call came, “There’s a rehearsal for the Kinki Kids concert.” I didn’t have a clue why they’d call me again after I’d put on such a pitiful display, only this time my response was a wailed, “No way in hell.” But to no avail. When I tried it on my parents, because there was some sort of promise on my behalf, to not comply with this request from Johnny’s would simply be no different than spoiling me.
“Man up, Chibo.” said my father. “You should go because they took the trouble to call!” said my mother. Were they unable to sit by and watch me be idle? Even my sister, younger by 3 years, got in the action, telling me, “You can do it, Chi!” Only my brother, older by 2 years, said nothing. A look can sometimes be imbued with meaning, he seemed to be saying, “You need to decide this on your own.”
Despite the situation, I wasn’t going to cry. With all the pride of the second son, I’d affected calmness somehow but the answer was right there, “Fine, I’ll spy one last time.” I felt like a relay runner facing the final sprint.
I was timid as I entered the rehearsal room. But owing to the fact that I wasn’t late it was different from before and I was able to participate. I, the dance amateur, was gradually was able to keep pace with those around me. Furthermore, this performance was a month away, so I had room to breathe. As I returned over and over again to the rehearsal room, I began to get a good feeling about it. Little by little I even began to enjoy dance.
However, at the end of the day, I was a spy. I’d infiltrated the agency for my mother’s friend. I couldn’t forget that. Seeing my role in a new light, I attended rehearsal everyday with a consistently high level of motivation.
Then came the day of the performance. My father dropped me off at the station in his car, leaving me with some encouraging words, “Good luck, Chibo.” I formed a fist with my left hand and raised it in a sign of return. Riding on the train, I listened to Kinki Kids songs on endless repeat on a mini-disc player I’d borrowed from my mother. I ran a simulation of the dance in my mind. In the blink of an eye I’d arrived at the concert hall. It was Yokohama Arena, the same as the Tackey-concert. The utter defeat of last time floated through my head and I burned with feelings of revenge. But, remembering my father’s words of encouragement, I rejected those negative feelings. I entered the concert hall prepared for battle. Then, after I cleared a peaceful, final rehearsal all that was left to do was wait for the show to begin.
Capitalizing on my experience of 3 months prior, I went early to go on standby. I checked my appearance in the mirror. Just like before my costume was baggy but everybody else was in the same boat. The shoes that had been the bane of my existence last time were once again oversized but I bound them tightly around and around my ankles with the laces. There was no way they’d fly off now. Preparations were all in order. I was fidgety waiting for things to get going when the music began to play. The backstage area exploded with activity.
The show had started! And on top of that it was almost time for me to go on. In a mix of impatience and nervousness, I wrote 「人」 on the palm of my hand 3 times and swallowed it.* Because I’m prone to worrying, I repeated this 3 times.
Alright! I’m not going to give in to the cheers of the crowds no matter how loud they are! I ran out on stage and appeared on the shore of a sea of sparkling penlights waving back and forth. It was unreal. For a second I was nearly unable to move but I arrived at my position on the outer ring with ease. “One, two, three”, my whole body spontaneously started to count. I wasn’t even a second late when the dance started and was right in time with everybody else. A month of practice had paid off. Contrarily, it was because of my utter failure of three months before that I knew firsthand exactly what I’d needed to do to prepare. My smile was still awkward but with my preparations I could make it through to the end…... As I was thinking that, a certain person came within my field of vision. It was like an electric current hit my body and he was locked into my field of vision. Walking coolly around the stage, waving to the fans with a smile on his face, with his blond hair standing on end looking exactly like Super Saiyan from Dragonball! Domoto Tsuyoshi-kun!
“I wanna be a cool guy like that.” It had hit me like a shock when my hero had suddenly appeared before my eyes. For the first time I truly wanted to try and work in this world. Not for anybody else, for me. In my heart I yelled, “I’m quitting the spying business!” I had now had a clear goal. Of course I made it through the performance that day, looking forward to many more concerts in the days to come.
With the utter failure of my first performance to come later, why did I hate the idea of going to Johnny’s that much? To be bawling as a middle schooler was completely pathetic------ Up until that point I’d always gone places with my big brother. Johnny’s was first time I’d taken a leap into a new world by myself. I casually accepted the work as a spy but what followed were some truly miserable, bitter feelings. More than anything else I became aware of the hopelessness that came from my big brother’s absence.
From beginning to end while my parents and little sister had wheedled with me, my big brother hadn’t said a word. He’s reserved by nature, a man of few words, and there is a reason for that. In his childhood he was afflicted with bad eczema** and various places on his body were red and inflamed. Even on his head he was missing hair in one place. Because of his physical appearance he was bullied by some of his classmates. He didn’t have anybody close enough to call a friend in his own class, so in his free time after school, he’d play with me and my friends. Even with that degree of social isolation, my big brother was determined never to stay home from school. He never ran away even as he was bullied for being covered in scars.
While watching my big brother quietly battle on, I wondered how he got so strong. Even for me who loved and respected him I thought it was a miracle. One time, half-joking my brother let loose with this declaration to me and my sister: “I should’ve come with you guys so I’m responsible for anything bad that happened.”
To my brother it might have been an off-the-cuff remark but I heard acceptance and preparedness packed into those words. My heart welled up when I understood how my big brother looked at us. If it’d been me in the same circumstances I absolutely wouldn’t have been able to say those words.
In the case of whether or not I’d take on the challenge again, with his silence my brother got his point across. For me who’d always learned from his example, I knew that if I just tried, it would be more than enough.
“Jordan’s bat is rumbling.”
At first glance, the meaning of the title is unclear. For me, it’s something that without it, I wouldn’t be here. My first Isaka Kotaro-san novel was 『重力のピエロ』 (Juryoku no Pierrot or Gravity’s Clown). “Jordan’s Bat” was an important item within that novel connected to the brothers Izumi and Haru.*** I was reading that book on a train when I broke down in tears but I was more than just emotionally moved, the impact was closer to getting hit with a bat, and the vibrations continue to echo within me. I feel like it was that impact that dredged up the “I want to read” feeling” within me.
Isaka-san, thank you for permitting me to use it!
“The Spy Gamit” has an epilogue. The other day, my mother sent me this e-mail: “Shota, I was the reason you entered Johnny’s. Honestly, I just wanted to keep you from going down the wrong path. (grin) You were turning into quite the little hellraiser and I wanted to keep my baby out of trouble……”
I gave a bitter laugh. The upshot was while I’d been dancing, it was my mother who’d been pulling the strings. She didn’t have any interest in show business. The reason I’d been caught up in “The Great Backstage Caper” was her concern over an unruly child. But if I think of the things A.B.C-Z is able to do now, don’t you think I should thank my parents?
“Mom, that was the right answer!” I shout in my own, small living room.
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This month’s linked book:
『重力ピエロ』 Gravity’s Clown
伊坂幸太郎 Isaka Kotaro
Izumi and Haru are brothers, 2 years apart in age. One day there is a fire at Izumi’s company, which deals in genetic information. There had been a series of arson incidents within Sendai but Izumi is less shocked about the fire than the fact that Haru’s prediction (“My brother’s company might have a fire.”) had been right on target. “There’s always graffiti by each arson scene.” Haru notices because he has a part time job cleaning it up. Arson and genetics mingle as Izumi attempts to find a reason for the coincidence. What’s really going on is------
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“Well, yeah. Because.” Continuing on, Haru was brusque. “We’re the toughest, right, Bro?” (Excerpt)
“Since we were kids you were always with me when things got serious so that’s why, that’s why I get anxious when you’re not.”
I remembered Haru had always been well attuned to superstitions and jinxes.
“If I’m by myself I get scared and freeze up but if you’re there it’s like I know I can do it.”
“For real?”
“For real.” (p. 436)
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Totsuka says:
When I re-read Gravity’s Clown, I cried at the same scene I did the first time through. The scene where the feelings Haru’s been holding in for many years come out. His older brother Izumi is there, too. According to Haru, “My brother is my good luck charm.” I know the feeling! This isn’t a great explanation, which is frustrating, but for a younger brother, somehow you only feel at ease when your older brother is around.
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Notes:
* This is a Japanese superstition to help when you’re feeling anxious.
**Way to spill your brother’s secrets!! Jeez, Tottsu! LOL!
*** With some googling after the hint from Tottsu, I realized that “Jordan’s bat” refers to a Michael Jordan baseball bat. I’d totally forgotten that back in the day ol’ MJ took up baseball. I had a vague memory of his baseball attempts as joke fodder for the late night talk shows but reading about it now, Michael Jordan’s baseball career is rather touching.(Also, in a nice bit of wordplay 泉水 (Izumi) means “spring” as in the water feature and 春 (Haru) means “spring” as in the season.)