The Trajectory of a “Genius” Writer 5: Shinya Kobayashi - Meeting the Genius Trainer Hiroshi Shiraishi 1
Immediately after graduating from university, I met Hiroshi Shiraishi, who would later be called a “genius trainer”
I met trainer Hiroshi Shiraishi in the spring of my 22nd year, shortly after graduating from university. Or perhaps it was after I celebrated my birthday in May. When I enrolled in the “Japan Chiropractic College” that had opened in Higashi-Ginza, Shiraishi was among the mere seven or eight fellow students.
I had dreamed of studying abroad in America to learn “sports science” and living a campus life in California. However, I found out that I lacked the credits to transfer to an American physical education university. I needed credits in physics, chemistry, biology, and so on. Since I came from a humanities background, I only had biology at most.
Thinking, “I don’t want to be a scholar, but as a sports writer, I want to write with a proper understanding of the human body,” I gave up on studying abroad. Just then, a teacher at the osteopathic clinic who had taken care of me during my high school days recommended it to me, saying, “A new chiropractic school is opening. You can study physiology and anatomy there, how about it?” I had no intention of becoming a chiropractor, but I followed the recommendation, thinking, “I do want to study.”
There was Shiraishi, the same age as me, who had just graduated from Nippon Sport Science University.
In his self-introduction, Shiraishi said, “I established a student trainer system at Nittaidai. In Japan, trainers are not yet well known, and are at best recognized as people who give massages, but America is different. They tape up American football and basketball players before games and provide first aid if there is an injury during a game. It is a very important role that connects the doctor and the athlete. I am going to popularize this trainer system in Japan. Just the other day, I accompanied the Japanese national track and field team to an international competition.”
I was, of course, wide-eyed at Shiraishi, who spoke about his position (actually in the Hiroshima dialect) with pride, albeit a little timidly.
(Huh, what an interesting person.)
We talked passionately about our dreams at a cheap curry stand in front of Shinbashi Station
The chiropractic school was a night school where teachers and students alike gathered in Higashi-Ginza after finishing their work. I believe it was a program of two subjects each time, from 7:00 to 9:00 PM. It was a bit formal, or rather, everyone was in a tense atmosphere, and it wasn't an environment for casual conversation. Therefore, even though I was curious about Shiraishi's presence, it was several days later that I spoke to him personally.
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat on the way home?”
I think it was me who invited him, but one night, we walked to Shinbashi Station together. Come to think of it, neither of us had any money. It might have been that era where it was natural for 22 or 23-year-olds to have no spare money, without even needing to say it to each other. When we arrived at Shinbashi Station, Shiraishi looked around and said in his Hiroshima dialect, “How about that place?” I replied, “Sure,” and opened the door to the shop. It was a cheap curry stand with only a narrow counter. It was hardly a suitable place for a long talk, but we didn't care and had a passionate conversation in that shop.
Two years ago in early spring, the two of them were each harboring loneliness under the same Los Angeles sky...
I introduced myself as a freelancer writing about sports, and Shiraishi said he was training while working at a small company run by a senior who was a pioneer in trainer activities in Japan. And, during spring break of his third year of university, he went to Los Angeles because he desperately wanted to become an apprentice to a famous trainer at UCLA, and day after day he begged in front of the trainer's room, but was turned away at the door. About three weeks later, he was suddenly allowed into the trainer's room, and he told me that Ducky Drake had been his mentor ever since. He was eating the cheapest canned food he could buy at a cheap motel in LA. He didn't realize it was cat food until a hotel resident laughed at him. Shiraishi's story about how he had felt lonely the whole time under the LA sky struck a chord in my heart. Because it reminded me of that night, at the exact same time, when I was under the night sky of Los Angeles, surrounded by many frisbee friends, and I cried out loud. The American frisbee players were all kind. They would catch me, unable to keep up with world-class athletes, and invite me, “Let’s do it together.” However, because my frisbee throws lacked spin, the champions couldn't play as they wanted. I’m sorry... But they were incredibly kind to a foreigner who had come to the home of frisbee to learn it for the first time from a country other than America. I felt sorry for that kindness, and I couldn't speak English to convey my feelings, so I was overcome with sobbing. I had no choice but to cling to the chest of Dan Roddick, president of the International Frisbee Association, who hugged me with a troubled face, not understanding why Nobuya was crying on a night that should have been fun (playing at night), and cry out loud like a child.
That night, Shiraishi was also fighting loneliness alone under the same LA sky...
The moment I learned that, a sense of empathy beyond logic welled up. Comrades. Yes, like comrades of the same age seeking dreams, though our paths were different. From that day on, we drew closer and began to pursue our respective dreams. (To be continued)
“The Dream Without an Invitation: The Adventures of Trainer Hiroshi Shiraishi” by Shinya Kobayashi, published by Futabasha
Looking at the used market on Amazon, it is listed for ¥30,230!?
Shinya Kobayashi's “Sports Writer Cram School” and “Writer's School” are now open!
https://nobuya2.wixsite.com/mysite/blank