戸塚祥太 の ジョーダンバットが鳴っている No. 1 [ダ・ヴィンチ 2013.11]

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. (This translation was originally posted September 3, 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. 1:『The Spy Gambit』


2013 has been a lucky year for me. Since we became Johnny’s first DVD debut last year, in February I went to Australia on working holiday for a television program, in July I was able to act in a theatrical production with Nishikiori-san, a respected semapi, and I was able to meet my favorite author Isaka Kotaro-san. I hadn’t even thought about something like a serial column in『ダ・ヴィンチ』 (Da Vinci) but this is one more lucky break and I want to take on this challenge with everything I’ve got.


The first installment will be the story of my pathetic first performance. I joined the agency in 1999 which means I’ve been a Johnny’s for 14 years. Now I enjoy the tasks I’m given to perform but back then my objective had been to gather inside information, that is to say, I was a spy. Why, you ask, why did I undertake such a dodgy assignment----.

“My son wants to join Johnny’s but he’s not old enough to audition yet. I’d like you to go first to check it out.”
That’s what my mother’s friend asked me. I was in 5th grade at the time and in the soccer club. My mother took a photo of me, still in my uniform, having just come home from practice. She told me, “I’m going to send in an application.” All I could think at this unexpected incident was, “?????”

Time passed. In the spring of my first year of middle school I got a phone call from Johnny’s. “Please come to the upcoming audition.”
My friend and I had gotten buzz cuts* when we’d entered middle school but in the picture that was sent in with my application you can see me, the fresh baldy still a ways off, standing on my toes, wearing a blue uniform in honor of France, the 1998 World Cup winners, ready to face my undercover investigation.

I was late because I’d had school that day and when I entered the rehearsal room everybody was already going full throttle! Dripping with sweat as they danced. It seemed like the one dancing in front of the mirror was the Jr. whose example we needed to follow. Behind him were all the auditioning boys. The only spot left for me, the latecomer, was all the way in the very back. And here I am, a spy! From the rear I’d be able to survey the entire scene and get the real scoop. Rather convenient! I thought, positively. However, soon enough, I realized my mistake. The rehearsal room was a tessellation** of auditioning boys and I couldn’t see the leader in front of the mirror at all. Aren’t there also a ton of boys dancing in front of me? Or are they all thinking one more rival is one more too many? Nobody helped me out. With no experience in dancing I was at my wit’s end, but I kept moving my body.

In the end, I couldn’t learn the choreography that day, and with that, intel uncollected, I was done.

One week after that, I was called to participate in a Johnny’s Jr. concert. Huh? A performance already? But I don’t remember anything--! I’m not going!
Those feelings were left behind as I headed to the concert hall with my mother, swaying with the motion of the train. When we arrived at the station, I saw a lot of girls holding Jr. uchiwas. I’d always been to concerts as an audience member. With a sidelong glance at the landscape I was used to seeing, I walked to the performers entrance and went in. That was where I left my mother. My Johnny’s infiltration was a success. I gave my name to somebody who appeared to be staff. With a glance they confirmed that my name on a list of performers and then showed me to the large green room where all the potential Jr. boys were crowded in.

I was at the point of thinking, “Okay, now they’re going to show us the choreography,” and was wondering if it was time for rehearsal to start when the manager-san came in to give us instructions. Not even my French-style fresh baldy could withstand the flow of boys and I moved ahead unsteadily. A strip of jet black needle punch carpet was spread out on the floor backstage. There were many costumes all lined up and all the Jr. boys were waiting their turn to get changed. Confirming the time it took for a quick change, I prepared myself for the process. There were stairways built up in various locations and not for gazing leisurely at the scenery. If you ascended those stairways you would appear on a stage bathed in multicolored lights. Hu, huge...it must have been multiple times bigger than my middle school gymnasium. There was going to be a concert on this giant stage? As I gathered relevant data I struck a small victory pose. But there was no time to be intoxicated at the thought of doing my job as a spy, once we got on stage we were going to be given instructions.

“You, a little more to the center! Ah, nope, go back! Hey! You! Red shirt! If you’re going to space out just go home!”

A choreographer-type person in the audience seating, mic in one hand, was yelling instructions, deciding on where the performers were going to stand. I was placed on the walkway encircling that central stage. I hadn’t even memorized my own position when the next instruction came: “Yes, okay, everybody exit. We’re going to try it with the music.” Desperately I followed everybody else and while I was exiting the stage, I remembered that I still hadn’t learned the choreography. “This is bad. I’m definitely getting yelled at.”


That premonition was right on target. The song began to play. When the kid on stand-by in front of me  jumped up and ran up the stairs, I did, too. I had a faint memory of my position but I had completely forgotten the dance. Standing there like a stick, angry words rained down like thunder upon me.


“Hey, you! Yes, you, Frenchie! Why the hell aren’t you dancing?! Don’t you come out on my stage like that!”


Sc, scary! An adult genuinely pissed off at a 12-year old kid. Of course I was frightened. (grin) But now I understand. I don’t feel any ill will towards the choreographer. Being angry was simply one part of his job.


Between everything, rehearsal was a crushing defeat. “The choreographer-san is super scary.” That was the only bit of important information I’d gathered.
I suppose I’d earned a passing grade as a spy up to that point but I was unqualified to be a Jr. …...When I returned to the big green room, as you might expect, I gradually started to get pumped up. “I gotta do this!” But at that point it was still 45 minutes before the show started. If I’d been a veteran that might have been enough time for me to prepare but I was a total novice. And on top of that I was shy back then. Even though I should have been able to communicate, “Please teach me the dance,” I just couldn’t and there was no way for me to learn from stealthily observing those around me… and so that time was exceedingly cruel.


“Okay it’s time-- everybody on stand-by--”


The manager-san’s voice echoed. I had no confidence but what else could I do. There had been time and people who knew the dance. The fact that I couldn’t do it was my own fault. What I’d been provided with were a pair of baggy, baggy pants and a pair of shoes that obviously didn’t fit my feet. Please do something to fix this! I’m going to start thinking I’m an NBA player heading to play a game against Michael Jordan’s team! There was no way those words would physically come out of my mouth but in my heart I was screaming them. Embracing those feelings of unease, I started walking towards the stage. The music began playing…… Could it be? The show had started! In a rush I went double-time towards the stage. On the way, my shoes came off 2, 3 times. God damn it! Even though I was hurrying I knew it would be hard going.


I passed through the backstage area and when I’d reached the stairway to the main stage, everybody else was already on standby. If the kid at the head of the line stood up, wouldn’t just his face be on stage like, “Hello”? Leaning himself forward he says, Got your game face on? (Even though he didn’t seem to be paying attention to anybody else.) The music switched to the next song. Well? Seems like I’d heard it somewhere before… I thought. It’s the song we’re doing! With a great dash there was no time to catch my disrupted breath, we surged up and onto the stage. I ran around to the outer walkway. The soundtrack of my first personal experience on stage was the low-frequency rumble of my heart beat. The audience was a tessellation of fans and their cheers added to the noise. Inside my head I was panicking. With a pained smile I managed to make my way to approximately where I was supposed to be. A figure was heading in my direction, scattering extraordinarily refreshing smiles about the crowd as he moved.


Ta, Ta ta ta, Tackey?! I didn’t hear anything about Tackey walking by me! It was the first time in my entire life I’d seen a celebrity with my naked eye and I couldn’t control my trembling. The choreography vanished. My problem now was that when Takizawa-kun passed by me I’d be doing completely different movements from the kids around me. I didn’t even care if I got yelled at, the one thing I’m not going to do when he passes by is stand here like a stick! Even bullshit is fine, just move, with your whole body! …...ba-dum, ba-dum, I was at peak nervousness. He’s coming…... At the instant that Takizawa-kun passed right before my eyes, zip! My shoes came off! Okay, that’s enough! You’re out! Takizawa-kun brings a large spotlight with him and the attention of many people. My frazzled state was revealed to the public and I was furious at my shoes, which clearly couldn’t read a situation.***
When it came time to make my exit I gathered my shoes and went to stand backstage. To all appearances, my first concert had been the absolute worst. Returning to the greenroom the leader-type kid singled me out.


“You can’t even dance a single step, you’re gonna get killed.”
In silent mode I murmured, “Oh no, I don’t want to die yet.” He was half-joking and using a popular phrase but I swallowed his threat hook, line, and sinker. The manager-san left word, “You don’t need to come back.” And so I fled the concert hall.


(Continued in the next part.)


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This month’s linked book:『オーデュボンの祈り』 Audubon’s Prayer      伊坂幸太郎           Isaka Kotaro

Ito has quit his job and taken part in a convenience store robbery. Midway through his escape he blacks out. When he opens his eyes, he’s on an unknown island called “Ogishima,” or “Reed Island.” Isolated since the Edo period, on this island lives Yugo, a scarecrow whose words hold the power to see the future. The day after Ito comes to the island, Yugo is killed by somebody. In spite of the fact that he had precognition, he couldn’t he avoid being killed? This is Isaka Kotaro’s debut work.


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The year before last, my grandmother, who died from cancer, pointed at me and in a clear voice said: You’re gonna run away. It felt like she was speaking a prophecy. Her words were right on the mark. Wasn’t I the type of person who’d make a run for it as soon as I ran into trouble. (p. 10)

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Totsuka says: I’d thought, because this is the first installment so it absolutely had to be Audubon’s Prayer! So I re-read the book. My feelings as a I ran away from my utter defeat at my first performance and my job as a spy were overlaid with Ito’s feelings as he’s listening to his grandmother’s words. Leaping into the parallel universe of Johnny’s I felt just like Ito when he’s suddenly thrust into a world he knows nothing about on “Ogishima.”

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Notes:
*The idiomatic compound Tottsu actually uses is 断髪式をする or danpatsushiki wo suru which refers to a sumo wrestler’s retirement ceremony where he has his topknot cut off. It was too cumbersome to fit the explanation into the text so I used “buzz cut”. I also chose “fresh baldy” to stand in for クリクリ坊主 or kurikuri bouzu which literally means “big and round shaved head” as that is what my soccer-loving little brother, who is about Tottsu’s age, would call that haircut. Additionally, I can only assume that it was a trend with soccer-loving boys to shave their heads to be like break out star French goalkeeper Fabien Barthez who would let his teammates kiss his bald head for luck before games.

**Another point of vocabulary interest is that Tottsu uses the phrase 埋め尽くし or umetsukusu which means packed to capacity but has a dual meaning of “tesselate” or to tile. And since Tottsu’s father is a tile setter, as we’ll find out in Jordan’s Bat is Rumbling No. 10, I think Tottsu would not only be aware of the specialized meaning but would have chosen to use the word on purpose, so I went ahead with “tesselate.”


*** Tottsu charmingly says his shoes are 空気を読めない or kuuki wo yomenai or can't read the atmosphere which is generally shortened to “KY” but that seemed too anime slangy in English to stick in here.

Filmi Girl

I’ve been a fan of Asian pop culture for over 20 years and want to help bridge the gap between East and West. There is a lot of informal (and formal) gatekeeping that goes on and I’d like to help new fans break through the gates.

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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]

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An Appreciation of the Signature Art of Hello-Pro by Matsuko Deluxe