A Surprising Pivot

[der meister 3,246]

               Last week, I wrote about the aura around Toronto Legion defenseman Ryuji Sakamoto following their final game of the season, of the pure danger he exuded. Perhaps this is just another example of "the brightest flame burns quickest," because Sakamoto's rage and determination when front fever pitch to nonexistent over the course of the past week. I'm certain that anger is still inside him, boiling beneath a thin veneer of apathy, but it's frankly unnerving how almost listless the energetic young man has become.

 

               "Do you have any thoughts or plans on what you want to do for the next few weeks?" I ask, looking up from my laptop to see a despondent Sakamoto positively flopped into an armchair, his spine curling as gravity overwhelms any desire to sit ergonomically. He doesn't even look in my direction, and I'm forced to recall a particular scene from Howl's Moving Castle where the titular Howl goes into a full-on depressive episode when his hair is accidentally dyed orange. It's not my favorite Miyazaki film, but the comparison seems apt.

 

               I don't know what to expect from this incarnation of Sakamoto. I know he received several phone calls from friends in Japan, presumably to commiserate on the season's end, but he shared no details with me. The silence from Sakamoto is heavy and deafening, enough to make being in the same room an uncomfortable experience. Impulsively I decide to leave for a walk, grabbing my wallet in case I stop in a convenience store for a snack.

 

               Leaving Sakamoto to his mood, I venture outside into the crisp spring air of the Greater Toronto Area. The sun peeks through thick white clouds, the kind of clouds that would have brought snow a month ago are nothing more than the ghost of a memory at this point in the year. Even a month ago, it was clear the Toronto Legion were not going to make the playoffs, so I'm a little surprised Sakamoto hadn't prepared himself for this inevitability a little better. I am curious what insights he will reveal whenever he starts talking again.

 

               I stop in an INS Market and grab a packet of chips and an iced tea, enjoying the freedom of being out and about in a major world city with no real destination or obligation. There's a small park not too far from the INS, so I cut my way through there, savoring the tea in the sunshine. A songbird skims the air above my head, chasing another of its kind into a tree. I see no Toronto Legion apparel on any of the people on the streets, or in the park. To the citizens of Toronto, the disappointment of a lost season has already gone by the wayside.

              

               When I eventually make my way back home, Sakamoto is nowhere to be found. I hear a few electronic chimes and beeps from his bedroom as I shut the door. Despite his wealth, Sakamoto still prefers older, vintage video games to much of the current run. The noises cease immediately after I shut the door, and I hear the sound of scrabbling feet a moment before Sakamoto himself emerges from the bedroom, looking at me with an odd, almost maniacal, lopsided grin. My eyebrow quirks up in surprise.

              

               "I know I kinda sucked this year, man," Sakamoto says, no hint of his earlier black mood in his voice, "but I just realized that if things don't get better, I'll be an unrestricted player in two years. I can start fresh!"

 

Howl, as a comparison for Sakamoto