Until There Is No Ichiro Left

Since he erupted onto our domestic diamonds that last Edenic pre-9/11 spring and summer, Ichiro has offered a pleasing opacity. He has been a quiet and stoically unreadable fixture in constant warming motion, his unending stretching, bending, lunging, and flexing providing a silent castigation of unpreparedness and sloth. He’s been so constant for so long that watching him decline seemed unthinkable, and indeed still largely does.

“Until There Is No Ichiro Left,” at Vice Sports

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