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Every day, he works out in a professional stadium he rents, and then he usually comes to this restaurant, which feels like a country inn transported to the city.
It's tucked away on the fifth floor of a downtown building and accessible by a tiny elevator.
His hair looks darker than in some recent photos, maybe the lighting, maybe a dye job.
"I really just hope he keeps playing," Gordon says with a chuckle, "because I don't want him to die. What is Ichiro gonna do if he doesn't play baseball?" Former teammates all have favorite Ichiro stories, about how he carries his bats in a custom humidor case to keep out moisture, how in the minors he'd swing the bat for 10 minutes every night before going to sleep, or wake up some mornings to swing alone in the dark from 1 to 4 a.m.All the stories make the same point: He has methodically stripped away everything from his life except baseball."Thanks for coming again," says the chef, wearing Miami Marlins shorts. Ichiro is a meticulous man, held in orbit by patterns and attention to detail.This place specializes in beef tongue, slicing it thin by hand and serving it raw alongside hot cast-iron skillets.
--Musashi Miyamoto (circa 1584-1645), samurai and artist Ichiro Suzuki steps out of the cold into the small restaurant that serves him dinner most nights.