Rice Balls, AKB48, and Raw Coffee.
After an awesome morning spent betting on bikes, we got back in the Cannondale van with Hiro and Ichi.
It was lunch time, and we would be eating on the road.
“McDonald’s or Rice Balls?” Hiro asked.
Tim and I both replied “Rice Balls” without hesitation.
Hiro shook his head and said, “Crazy Americans. They eat squid but not McDonald’s.”
Rice balls are purchased at 7-11 and they are really like rice triangles wrapped in thin seaweed. You can get salmon, sweet plum, or tuna with mayonnaise. They come double wrapped in plastic with special instructions.
First, you pull the plastic from the top of the triangle, straight down, and around the back. This unwraps the seaweed that has been kept separate to stay dry. Then you pull the plastic wrapped around the rice triangle directly to the side, almost like Mr Wizard pulling the tablecloth out from under the dishes on the table.
Mr Wizard. Hated that guy.
What you are left with is a deliciously sweet rice meal wrapped in fresh, paper-thin seaweed. From 7-11.
After lunch, we headed into the Akihabara neighborhood, otherwise known as “Electric Town.” Also known for gifting the world with the current female idol group, AKB48.
Aitakkata, aitakkata, aitakkata, yes!
There are 57 members in the group. They have their own theater in Tokyo where they perform daily, and they have pop-up shops that sell only their merchandise.
Back Street Boys? What Back Street Boys?
In Akihabara, Ichi took us to a shop where he said he would shop, with the types of items he would buy. Tim and I purchased gifts for our wives and I took a picture of a robot.
The shop was located in a cool, little complex that sat beneath the above-ground train.
There was bike parking.
And there were toilets.
There was a store that only sold items made of wood.
I nearly cracked around 6 pm from an already long day. Knowing we had dinner with Red Bull reps in a few hours, and who knew what after dinner, we needed some coffee.
We found good coffee.
Tim and Ichi enjoyed their “coffee of the day.”
And I acted like the weird guy taking pictures of raw coffee beans. By “acted,” I mean, “was.”
I really regret not buying this espresso grinder. Such an idiot.
After a few cups of coffee, Ichi walked Tim and me to the train so we could meet two reps from Red Bull Japan in ShiBOOYAH at the Hachiko Dog again where we would be dining on meat products.
On the train, where no one speaks, I told Ichi I loved him as he walked through the doors for the last time. He did not reciprocate, but I didn’t take it personally.
Red Bull, Red Meat, and Karaoke coming up next…
Betting on Bikes
The day before our trip to Tokyo ended, Hiro and Ichi surprised Tim and me with a trip to Keirin racing in Omiya.
Ichi was pretty pumped for the trip.
But Tim was concerned for his health.
It was close to a one hour drive, and from what I could tell, the Japanese were not accustomed to driving such a long distance. Tim and I didn’t care, as we just tried to repeat the Japanese commands coming from the GPS Navigation.
Hidari. That means left.
Upon arriving, we found the Keirin track situated in a relatively large sports complex, where they also hold soccer and baseball events. We parked in a surprisingly crowded parking lot and walked to the track.
It felt a little like going to a NASCAR event.
We had been told that Tim was a special guest at the event, so we were walked down a private hallway where we were given special passes that afforded us our own private suite looking over the track.
There were TVs to watch replays. The rider on the ground was taken away by ambulance, we were told.
Before we got down to business, Tim presented Hiro with a team jersey for the Cannondale Japan office. I suspect this jersey is in Hiro’s closet and he is waiting to wear it in his next race.
The name of the game in Keirin is gambling. According to Hiro and Ichi, many people in Japan have made careers of gambling on Keirin, but the younger generation is less interested, so Keirin is a dying sport.
Like we have for horse racing in the US, there are all sorts of statistics available for betting on Keirin. Every 20 minutes or so, there is a race with anywhere between 7 and 9 racers, all in easily identified colors. The colors always match the same number, and the racers only do one race a day. The odds are displayed on screens in the suite and the newspapers offer their predictions that typically match the odds on the screen.
You have a few options for how to bet…again, this is very similar to horse racing in the US. You can pick the exact finishing order of the top two or three or just the top 2 or 3 at random.
You mark your predictions on what looks to be a mini SAT sheet.
Before their race, the riders do a few laps, slowly, to let you take a look at them. They ranged, in age, from 20 years old all the way to 48 years old. According to our host, we were not to be discouraged by the age differences, as Keirin was as much about brains as it was legs.
Once you had decided on your bets (up to five on one sheet), you took it down the hallway to the automatic machine that would process your bets and provide you with a ticket that could be used for payment if you won.
“Big Gamblers!” as Hiro liked to call us as we bet $.75 per race.
After placing my bet, I needed to use the bathroom.
We went back to the suite and waited for the first race to start.
Tim started a ritual the Japanese had never seen.
When the race started, there wass a pace setter (we called him the rabbit) who led the racers around the first two laps. He was there to break the wind so no one was stuck leading.
At some point in the second lap, the riders began to attack and fight for position and when they heard the bell at the start of the third lap, it was no holds barred. Using elbows and your body to fight for position is standard practice in Keirin.
While we each won at least one race, we all still lost. Maybe next time.
