Wonderful, long profile on Masahiro Tanaka by Barry Bearak in the Times yesterday. This one is worth your time, indeed:

Japan once had a popular comic book series called Kyojin no Hoshi, Star of the Giants. It was later adapted for television, movies and a video game. The stories were of a young boy who wanted to be a baseball great. He was relentlessly, even cruelly, pushed toward that goal by his father, who put his son through an onerous regimen of training. The show “was grounded in the harsh work ethic that Japan embraced” as it “clawed its way up from the ashes” of World War II, wrote Robert Whiting, author of several books about baseball in Japan. The All-Star Ichiro Suzuki, now with the Yankees, had such a father. So did many boys.

Masahiro Tanaka did not. His father, a far more restrained man who worked for a camera manufacturer, was a baseball fan but had not played the game much. He was satisfied to entrust his son to coaches.

The younger Tanaka’s introduction to organized baseball was almost happenstance. He was in the first grade, playing with his younger brother near Itami Koyanosato Elementary School. Baseball practice was going on, and Tanaka stopped to watch his schoolmates. The coach, Mitsutaka Yamasaki, asked him if he wanted to hit, and the boy looked agile as he swung the bat. Tanaka’s mother listened as the coach praised her son, and the family decided baseball might be a good way for Masahiro to make friends.

Yamasaki was extremely fortunate that year. He is 68 now and still coaching at the school, but he considers three boys from that single first grade class to be the best ballplayers he ever had. The most athletic, Hayato Sakamoto, played shortstop; the biggest, Yoshitaka Nago, pitched; Tanaka, who had the strongest arm, was deployed at catcher, the position he played until he was a teenager.

[Photo Credit: Edward Linsmier for The New York Times]

Illustration by Norman Rockwell.

The Dodgers and Padres kick play tonight.

Baseball. Indeed.

[Photo Via: This Isn’t Happiness]

Tomorrow is the day–Tuesday gives the Opener for our boys. And today, well, there’s two more Elite 8 games. No, we ain’t dead, we’s just getting’ started.

Picture by Bags.

Yeah.

[Photo by Constantin Joffe via hollyhocksandtulips]

We interrupt our week-long bread posts for this: Lemon Tartlets with Olive Oil. 

Head on over to The Smithsonian’s website and dig this coolness. 

Photograph by Chuck Stewart.

Miggy gets paid…again. 

Bananas. 

[Photo Credit: Jim McIsaac/Newsday]

More bread. 

Daredevil by Frank Miller.

Welcome back for another turn through the aisle to Where & When. The posts have been less frequent, but not because I don’t care. So here we are again, trying to puzzle out another intriguing picture of New York in its architectural glory days (if not a glorious period in it’s history). Let your eyes wash over this delight:

Brilliant, eh? I won’t say too much, because it pretty much speaks for itself, but to be fair I will give you a clue on the date: ten years after this photo was taken, Hopalong Cassidy became the first Western series to premiere on television.  Some four hundred years earlier, King Henry VIII divorced his fourth wife, Anne of Cleaves.  Not to mention, on the same day this picture was taken, Pan Am began flights between the US and England.  There, I think that’s very fair.

You know the rules; if you don’t, take a peek at some earlier games and come back.  A root beer of your choice if you tell us what is depicted here and when it was taken, a scoop of ice cream if you can tell us anything else interesting about the event it depicts, and cream sodas for the rest who follow. I’ll try to get back to you on this in the afternoon; try to savor this one, okay? Have fun, and no peeking at the photo credit >;)

[Photo Credit: Shorpy’s]

Pat Jordan’s latest for Sports on Earth is a profile of Rays’ pitcher, Chris Archer:

I met Chris Archer for dinner at the Outback Steakhouse on my first night in North Carolina. He showed up with a handsome black man in his 40s, whom he introduced as “Ron Walker, my mentor.” The hostess led us to a booth in the far corner of the room. As we sat down, Archer said, “Wow! This is the same table where I met my father last February.” He meant his biological father, Magnum. Walker had helped facilitate that first-ever meeting between father and son. It did not go well. Archer peppered his father with questions. Why had he never tried to contact his son? That sort of thing. Archer did not like the answers.

By the time his father had left, Archer said, he had already decided, “I had no intention of ever seeing him again. The type of person he was. He had three children with three different women. Zero of which he is in their lives. He couldn’t tell what school his kids went to. I had no intention of trying to change a grown man who didn’t want to be in my life.”

I told Archer that I hadn’t planned to ask him about his biological parents until tomorrow, after we’d gotten to know each other a bit. He smiled and said, “Yeah, I came out throwin’ heat right off the bat.”

When the waiter came to take our order, Archer discussed with Walker what he should eat. Walker suggested fish and steamed broccoli, nothing fried or with butter. One night, before Archer was to pitch a minor league game, he had called Walker and told him he was eating a pizza. Walker said, “You’re eating what? Don’t put that in your body. Spend $30 on something healthy.”

Now, at Outback, Archer said, “He didn’t want me to put regular gas in my high-performance engine. We talk all the time.”

“We always dialogue back and forth,” said Walker. “It’s a wonderful thing.”

“He’s like my brother,” said Archer.

Walker looked at him sternly and said, “Uncle.”

[Photo credit: Mark J. Rebilas-USA TODAY Sports]

Thirty years ago today, RUN-DMC’s first album dropped.

SI‘s baseball preview issue is out and features contributions by Cliff Corcoran, Jay Jaffe and a feature by Eric Nusbaum. Oh, yeah, and four different covers (including Yadier Molina and some kid named Trout).

Okay, gluten-free not your thing, how about Dan Leader’s 4-Hour Baguette? 

My mother had a print of this 1931 photograph of Greta Garbo by Clarence Sinclair Bull hanging on the wall behind her desk in her office for years.

Happy Birthday, Diana Ross.

[Photo Credit: Bruce Davidson]

I spent a lot of my teenage years slumming around used bookstores in New York, especially on the Upper West Side. But Manhattan is no longer a place for bookstores of any kind.

Julie Bosman has the depressing details in the Times:

When Sarah McNally, the owner of McNally Jackson bookstore in Lower Manhattan, set out to open a second location, she went to a neighborhood with a sterling literary reputation, the home turf of writers from Edgar Allan Poe to Nora Ephron: the Upper West Side.

She was stopped by the skyscraper-high rents.

“They were unsustainable,” Ms. McNally said. “Small spaces for $40,000 or more each month. It was so disheartening.”

Rising rents in Manhattan have forced out many retailers, from pizza joints to flower shops. But the rapidly escalating cost of doing business there is also driving out bookstores, threatening the city’s sense of self as the center of the literary universe, the home of the publishing industry and a place that lures and nurtures authors and avid readers.

“Sometimes I feel as if I’m working in a field that’s disappearing right under my feet,” said the biographer and historian Robert Caro, who is a lifelong New Yorker.

[Photo Via: Afar.com]

Over at Deadspin, Barry Petchesky breaks down the 2014 payrolls and salaries for every team in baseball. 

[Photo Via: Daily Dot.com]

Via Baseball Researcher and Richard Sandomir of the New York Times: Ruth hits.

[Photo Credit: Baseball Fever]