TOKYO (KRT) – At the end of the Ginza subway line, in a corner of the world that cannot be more alien than the spot where baseball launched Opening Day, there is a temple enshrining a golden image of the Buddhist Kannon, goddess of mercy.
Tens of thousands come to Senso-Ji daily for their ritual cleansing.
At the mouth of the sacred gazebo is a large incense cauldron billowing smoke. People stand in front of it; they rub smoke through their clothes and inhale deep breaths of fragrant fumes, praying for a healthy renewal.
If their bodies weren’t drained, if they already weren’t walking zombies and could be assured the ever-present paparazzi would not follow (no chance of that), the Yankees might have dragged themselves to Senso-ji late Tuesday night.
As cures go, it surely beat staring at the hotel walls, wondering what massive upheavals George Steinbrenner might be planning.
Pity the poor soul who had to make the Boss’ breakfast Tuesday morning after he woke in Tampa at sunrise to watch his $180 million band of superstars diddle and fizzle. Imagine eggs Benedict flying, return visas being canceled, Joe Torre’s extension papers getting ripped to shreds.
Think that’s an exaggeration? Steinbrenner has thrown tantrums over the way the curtains hang in Yankee Stadium. On the scale of things that matter, very little topples losing to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, 8-3, in the season opener, before a world-wide audience, and with Don Zimmer chortling on the opposing Tokyo Dome bench.
The Japanese have a word for this. Hazukashii. Oh, the shame. How else to explain those Boss-issued, discombobulated statements about Tommy Tune?
Nothing in this blip of a time warp was familiar, beginning with “RICOH,” the monstrous Japanese corporation, stenciled in can’t-miss letters along every participant’s sleeve.
The Devil Rays, with their tiny payroll of $29 million, have little to lose by selling their souls.
The Yankees can’t afford to think this 7,500-mile journey is all about selling merchandise and spreading good will.
The pregame ceremonies alone were a jolt to the senses.
There were dances by women in traditional “Furisode” and samurai warriors slashing across the pitcher’s mound.
Junichiro Koizumi, Prime Minister of Japan, and Rudy Giuliani, the world’s mayor, simultaneously threw out the first pitch.
Women in pink kimonos presented bouquets to managers Joe Torre and Lou Piniella, and then everything got really crazy.
Wasn’t Mike Mussina the cool ace who would make Yankee fans stop pining for Andy Pettitte and Roger Clemens?
Mussina failed to hold a pair of leads, allowed 10 hits over five-plus innings and later wore the zombie-eyed look that threatens to haunt every Yankee in the immediate future.
Wasn’t Alex Rodriguez the superstar who’d add fear and pizzazz to the heart of the order? Rodriguez took called third strikes in his first two at-bats, doubled and popped up.
He seemed most comfortable at third base, careening left and right and charging in to snag hard-hit balls.
He also kneed reliever Paul Quantrill in the knee, a collision that illustrated perfectly how awkward these getting-to-know-you Yankees appeared.
One faulty part and a Rolex stops ticking. O
All those new faces in pinstripes might not get it, but Derek Jeter sure does. He rightly predicted Steinbrenner would rise even earlier this morning, to grip his remote and search for cracks. A split against Tampa would hardly erase nine innings of teeth-gnashing.
“We got to the World Series last year and that wasn’t good enough,” said Jeter. “Like it or not, that’s how it is. Expectations for our team are different from any other. If we don’t win the World Series, our season was a failure.”
A single flat, abysmal, embarrassing opener hardly makes or breaks a season, even in Steinbrenner’s myopic mind. Still, it was impossible not to wonder what happened to the team that flashed its giant rings in Roppongi dance clubs and smiled breezily through zillions of appearances while little ol’ Tampa Bay, the Washington Generals of baseball, went unloved and unnoticed.
Torre’s lineup card had eight All-Stars plus Enrique Wilson. Piniella’s had one All-Star who happened to be a former Yankee. Just when the familiar ring of “Let’s go Yank-ees” began picking up speed, Tino Martinez chose a fine time to collect his 300th career homer. “Sounded like we made the fans cheer for us, too,” Martinez said.He owns a couple of giant rings himself, and knows something about Steinbrenner’s wrath.
“It’s their problem now,” said Martinez, tilting his head to the other side of the Dome, where the samurai swords were being locked up tight.

(c) 2004, New York Daily News.

Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.

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