Last summer my pretarded friend Paul got me a front-row seat on the third-base line for a Mariners/Red Sox game and said he'd pay me $50 if I could get a nude photo of Ichiro Suzuki. Paul is not exactly Special Olympics material, but he's definitely a pancake short of a full stack. This bucktoothed, shit-for-brains baseball fanatic is the kind of guy who will lecture you like a professor for hours about anything that has to do with baseball, but won't leave his apartment to see an actual game. Baseball seems like a sport specifically engineered to engage fans like Paul: obsessive nose-pickers.
Sitting in a stadium full of obese and illiterate baseball nuts is hardly my cup of tea, but I don't mind Safeco Field--I like anything that makes me feel like I'm in a spaceship. So I agreed, knowing there was no chance in hell that I would get within a mile of Ichiro.
Amidst the fanatical chaos of Safeco Field--the sweaty circus freaks at the concession stand with oozing acne and rotten teeth offering peanuts for $7, the fat kids screaming like sickly monkeys, the ass-blistering seats and blaring video monitors--is one of Seattle's most talented athletes, Ichiro Suzuki, quietly commanding loads of respect from the opposing team. Although he seems a bit girly at times--perhaps because he doesn't have the arrogant swagger of a pro athlete, or perhaps because of his strange batting stance and the weird stretching exercises he does in the outfield--I respect the fact that Ichiro ignores the current trend in Major League Baseball, which is defined by a desperate need for players to "bulk up" with steroids in order to please the fans who hunger only for home runs. Ichiro has instead forced his opponents to adjust to his speed, his base stealing, and his amazing hitting ability.
If, in the future, professional baseball is still around--which is highly unlikely since the future won't be boring--it will be because of Ichiro's legacy as a dynamic athlete. Baseball requires almost studious contemplation to enjoy, and the antics that currently surround it have the potential to cause its demise. The children everywhere who are putting down their syringes full of steroids and instead learning to mimic Ichiro's style of play may just save baseball from the trash heap it is destined for.
