by Mave Deltzer

Here you had a tale of two age groups. The young cousins were both under the age of 21, while the older cousin and uncle were both out of their 20’s. While Garrett and Davey had age playing in their court, Mike and Gary had experience, strength, and Gary’s obsession for Togos sandwich number 9. The obsession probably outweighed everything else by a mile. Garrett and Davey had never seen a man play with so much passion before. Gary was all over the place. He was double teaming, rebounding, scoring, and doing everything it took to win that ball game. As Garrett noticed throughout the game, he simply couldn’t keep up with his older uncle. Gary had a strategy to rough up both of his younger nephews, using his strength and also incorporated the strategy of his Lincoln High School football experience.

As Garrett made a quick dash towards the hoop, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man coming near him at lightning speed. What was once an easy lay up turned out to be the second best defensive play of the day. You noticed the word second. The best was yet to come. Gary was beat on the play and as Garrett turned the corner to score the bucket, Gary got in his old running back stance and pretended to then carry an imaginary football in his arms. He then flew towards the rim, blocked Garrett’s shot and then finished off the play by patting his imaginary lineman on the butt. He was having flashbacks of his high school football career and using it to better his basketball game.

Mike wasn’t chopped liver. He was brutalizing his young cousin Davey, by not only picking his pocket, but also by taking him to the hole at will. But there was one problem. Mike couldn’t make lay ups. Mike would take a lightning quick first step to get to the basket, but then miss the lay up. And this wasn’t just any old miss. Usually when one misses a lay up, the ball hits off the backboard and doesn’t bounce too far away. You see, Mike saw himself as a Japanese Michael Jordan. He was a good 11 inches shorter than the real Michael Jordan, but Mike would try and emulate Jordan’s flying style anyway. He would take off from the free throw line like Jordan would. While Jordan used his 6’6’‘ wirey frame and awesome jumping skills to glide to the basket, Mike’s flying was more of a takeoff and then immediate land. There wasn’t much gliding in the air here. Thus, Mike would be further away from the basket than someone who would usually shoot a lay up and the ball would richochet hard off the backboard. This consistency in erroneous lay up shooting was all the break that Garrett and Davey needed.

Young Davey was having a really hard time backing up his early smack talk. While an athletic teen, Davey didn’t have any formal basketball training. He didn’t know how to set up his elder relatives in ways that could’ve helped his team win. And it wasn’t his fault. He simply was never taught the game like the other three were. But he was still very athletic for his age and was doing his best to hold his own. Garrett knew that he would have to score most of their points after watching how rough they were playing with his young cousin. They were playing for blood. And Togos.

The game was close in the beginning. It was a single game and the first team to eleven points was the winner. The youngsters started out fresh, and maybe a little slightly overconfident. They figured that they had the juice in their legs to run circles around the old men. They had the team chemistry; they knew where each other was going to be. And most importantly, they had just watched Rocky the night before. It was an inspiration to say the least. Gonna Fly Now was playing continuously on loop in their heads and they were floating on the court. Then came reality. As the score was tied at 2, the old men turned into thoroughbreds. They began to work the two youngsters. Everytime Gary would get tired, Michael would pull out the remnants of an old piece of Togos paper that they use to wrap the sandwiches in. He would pull it out of his bag, run it under Gary’s nose, and like caffeine, it would rejuvenize Gary. They went on a nice run and scored the next five points. Garrett and Davey were no longer on top of the world. They were wondering what had just hit them.

The two teams traded the next four baskets and the score was 9-4 in favor of the old dudes. Then Garrett hit a hot streak. He used his signature move. He would start with the ball on the left wing. He would go right, beating Gary to a spot in the middle of the key and when Gary would start to catch up to him, Garrett would jump stop and the shot was off before Gary could get there. Gary had no choice but to turn around and box out. But the shot kept dropping.

Garrett reeled off the next three buckets and it was suddenly a ball game again. The score was 9-7. Davey had his confidence back and Garrett couldn’t be stopped. On the next possession, Garrett rebounded a Davey miss and was ready to put the ball back up to close in to within just one point. But Gary was too quick. He slapped the ball out of Garrett’s hands and it was now in Mike’s. He dribbled around young Davey, went to the hole, and then before he tried his floating lay up, he passed it off to Gary for the score. It was now game point and the old guys were winning, 10-7.

Gary wanted the ball for the game winner. He could taste his sandwich already. He took an imaginary bite and the flavor was just right. He tasted the peppered pastrami that was layered with lettuce. He chewed it, swishing around the juices in his mouth. It was eternal bliss, and with one more shot, it would be all over. But while he was swishing, Garrett stole the ball and found a wide open Davey for the basket. 10-8. And Gary didn’t know what had just hit him. The kids were back in it. They were tired. They were beaten. They were bruised. But they still had a shot. Garrett knew that he was going to be double teamed once he dribbled toward the basket. But he knew Davey had a renewed confidence and he could count on him for the basket. But they couldn’t count on what was just about to happen. Garrett beat Gary off the dribble and Mike came over to double team. Just as they had practiced, when the double team came, Davey cut towards the hoop. Garrett thought this was too easy and wondered why Mike double teamed so early. As he was about to throw the pass to Davey for the lay up, he noticed Mike was falling down. It was going to be an even easier bucket than first though. But, Mike wasn’t falling down, at least on accident. He got down on his hands and knees. As Davey got the ball and was going in for the lay up, Gary who was catching up on defense, took his left foot and planted it on the small of Mike’s back. He used Mike’s back as a launching pad and went up high in the air. As Davey went to shoot his lay up, he noticed Gary floating nearby. He could’ve passed it back out, but it was too late. Gary blocked the lay up attempt and the ball went off the backboard hard, right into Mike’s hands. Mike immediately hit a short jumper for the game winner. The old guys won, and Gary and Mike were ready to eat their sandwiches.

What was supposed to be a joyous occasion for the young cousins turned out to be a horrible afternoon. The once happy faces turned sad. The smiles turned into frowns. The body language was once vivrant. The heads were held up high. But replacing that, was sulking to go along with heads that were tilted towards the ground. As Gary and Mike celebrated, they noticed the youngsters taking the loss hard and actually felt sorry for them for about 5 seconds. And then Gary shouted, “I’m going to Togos! Yeah baby!”

The sandwiches were huge. The once huge egos were crushed. You saw one team eating as if they’d never eaten before in their life. The other team was looking at the holes inside of their wallets. The winners shared their sandwich. But it was the winner’s sandwich. The losers had to try to enjoy the winner’s sandwich. It wasn’t the same. As they munched on what was to them, a dry and bitter sandwich, Davey and Garrett looked into each other’s eyes and both had the same thought. Next year, things will be different.

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by Mave Deltzer

It started as a bet. A family bet. It was a family bet that turned into family warfare. On one side you had the uncle and the oldest cousin. On the other, two younger cousins. What started as smack talking fun turned into a two on two basketball game with both teams putting everything on the line. It wasn’t only about pride. It wasn’t only about money. It was about Togos. Togos sandwich number 9.

The year was 1996. Things were much different than they are today. Gary Nakamoto was still in his 30’s. Michael Nakamoto was selling suits at Macy’s. Davey Nakamoto was in junior high school. And Garrett Gonzales was in his third year in college. It was a good time in the family. People were healthy and their worlds were different. Until the bet.

It started as a friendly family bet. Just more of a joshing. Young Davey Nakamoto loved ribbing his uncle and oldest cousin. He would say things like, “You guys are too old,” and “You can’t keep up with me” . But these two guys weren’t pushovers. Gary Nakamoto was a football stud at Lincoln High School in his day. And Michael Nakamoto has played just about every sport known to man. Even though they didn’t take young Davey Nakamoto seriously, they remembered what he said. They used it as fuel for their competitive fire. And they took him up on his bluff. At first, the bet was simply about fun. My team is better than yours. But the “old” men taught the young boy a lesson. Don’t write checks that your ass can’t cash.

Davey recruited his cousin Garrett to be on his team in a two on two match-up with Gary and Michael. Garrett and Davey had been spending a lot of time together. Going to the movies. Playing hoops. Checking out chicks. You know, cousin stuff. The chemistry was there. It was almost as if they just needed to show up and the game was theirs.

The game would be held in the summer, when Gary (who lives in Arizona) would be back in San Jose on vacation. There was one thing that had to happen in order for the uncle and oldest cousin to play. There had to be a reason for them to want to play their best. In order for them to agree to play, the stakes had to be high.

People have love for different things. Some love materialistic items. They can’t be without them. Keeping up with the Joneses. Others don’t care about that stuff. They just love their quiet time. With Gary Nakamoto, he loves his family first, and Togos sandwiches second. And not just any Togos sandwich. It has to be a Togos number 9. If you don’t know what’s on a Togos number 9, you’re just not a Togos fan. But it’s a very basic sandwich. Bread. Mustard. Mayo. Lettuce. Sometimes onions, sometimes not. And lastly, pastrami. Heaping amounts of pastrami. Gary would sometimes tip the sandwich maker to not weigh the pastrami on his sandwich so he could get extra meat. Gary knew the sandwich was done to perfection when he couldn’t close it because it was filled with so much pastrami.

It was a pastime of Gary’s to stop off at Togos as he made it into San Jose. Before taking a nap after a long drive, he would hit up a Togos so he could have his number 9. It was like clock work. My mom would tell me. “Gary’s in town.” I’d ask her, “Has he made it to Togos yet?” She’d reply, “Yes he has. Twice.”

Gary and Michael made a bet with Davey and Garrett. In order for them to play, the losers would have to buy the winners Togos number 9’s. And not just a large sandwich. We’re talking the next step up. We’re talking family size. Family size sandwiches are just as big as they sound. Large enough to feed a family. Garrett and Davey said sure, and the match up was set. It would be the game forever known as Togos Number 9.

I have decided to make my story on the Historical Togos Game into it a two parter since there were two series of games. In the mean time, while I’m listening to sound clips, feast your eyes on these pics taken by Celmatic, at the AVN.

Here’s a sneak peak.

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I rarely talk about sports anymore as I’ve seen that either I’m too much of a sports snob and have a hard time talking with anyone who doesn’t follow as hard as I do, or I just don’t enjoy them as much as I used to. When you’re a kid, sports seem so much bigger than life. It seems like a dream world. And then when you grow up and see all the political crap and how the sports world is an even worse reality than real life, you become slighly bitter. How can there be so many black athletes and so little black coaches? That’s just one issue that drives me up the wall, and how we as people accept it. Oh well. Anyway, the reason I decided to write is because of the Hall of Fame balloting that was done and the results of it that were released on Tuesday. I wanted to write this on Monday, and then compare my selections with those that had happened, but as it is, a few days late, and a few dollars short.

The reason why I enjoy the Hall of Fame balloting so much now is because I’m at an age to where I have seen most of the players on the ballot in their prime. I am actually able to say, “I saw that guy play when he was one of the best.” Not too long ago, I couldn’t make that claim and could only use statistics as a measuring stick. But not anymore. I find it funny how hard it is to actually get in the baseball Hall of Fame. The writers are so tough on these guys, but then again, it makes it that much more special for the guys who do get in. But what really cracks me up is how certain players are left off the ballot. How can Willie Mays only get 98 percent of the vote, or whatever he received? The man hit 660 home runs? Who are the guys who left him off their ballot? Sometimes, these writers might take this stuff way too seriously.

I thought Dennis Eckersley and Paul Molitor were shoe ins. Even though I hated “Eck” growing up, he was the most dominant reliever of the current era. He (and Tony LaRussa) changed the way stoppers were used. Because Tony would put Eck in simply to pitch one inning, and most of the time, no one was on base, he was able to maximize Eck’s usage and the times he could pitch in a week. As long as you had someone to pitch the 8th inning, you could throw Eck out there 3 or 4 times a week if needed to close games. It was pure genius, but you had to have relievers who could get you to the 8th. Luckily, for Eck, it worked out and he is now in the Hall of Fame. There are people who didn’t want to vote for him because they felt he was only an average to above average starter early in his career, but who really cares? The Hall of Fame is about greatness, and from 1988 through the mid 90’s, Eck was the greatest stopper of them all.

Paul Molitor was a model of consistency and he and Eddie Murray are going to be the trend setting Hall of Famers who, because of the day and age, were able to play for so long, not only because of the designated hitter rule, but also because players were taking so much better care of themselves in this era. Molitor was able to play at a higher level at 42 than almost anyone else. He was an offensive force in his day, but he wasn’t the kind of player who was simply unstoppable for several years or someone you’d rank higher than Dale Murphy, Jim Rice, or Andre Dawson in their primes. You could also say that Molitor simply did enough for a long period of time rather than having a stretch of his career where he was one of the best players in the game. But, because of his stolen bases, doubles, and the fact that he got over 3,000 hits, he has to get in.

I would’ve also voted for Andre Dawson and Lee Smith if I had a vote. Andre didn’t hit that magical 500 home run total, but if Andre wasn’t one of the best power hitters in almost all of the 80’s and early 90’s, then I don’t know who was. He held on late in his career, and it might have hurt his perception in people’s eyes because he wasn’t the guy who was a hulking right fielder with a fast bat and a rocket arm anymore. He was a guy at the end of his career. He had three or four simply phenomenal seasons, and had he played on a bigger stage than Montreal, I’m sure he would’ve got in. He still has a decent chance as he did get on 50% of the ballots this year. He needs 75%. If I’m not mistaken, Lee Smith is the all time saves leader in major league baseball history. I’ll fight the thought that his ERA was high for a reliever, or that he wasn’t as dominant as Eckersley, who was going to take most of Smith’s votes anyway, but this guy was menacing on the mound. Yes, Gossage was probably more intimidating by the way he threw with that gawky motion, but I’m facing Gossage before I face Smith. I remember watching Cubs games on WGN as a kid, and I was scared of this man. He closed for the Cubs, the Red Sox, the Cards, the Orioles and the Angels. He had at least 29 saves with each ball club. In his sixteenth year in baseball, he had 37 saves with the California Angels. He was not only a model of consistency, he did it longer than just about anyone.

As for guys who were up for spots, but didn’t get in, I would’ve said no definitely to both Gossage and Bruce Sutter. Both guys were in that weird part of baseball, really before the closer role was defined. As a reliever, both guys were stellar. Some of the best guys in baseball to do it. Gossage had the hard heat and Sutter had the splitter really before that pitch was en vogue. The reason I say no to both is because I think they have to wait behind both Eck and Lee Smith. Eck is in. Lee isn’t. If Lee can get in, I think that will show that the writers have acknowledged that the closer role, which usually was pitching only one inning, but also the most important inning in the game, was important enough to warrant Hall of Fame status. Sutter might have had one of the most dominant closer seasons in 1984 with the St. Louis Cardinals. He had a miniscule 1.54 ERA and had 45 saves, but more impressively, pitched over 100 innings, which is like I said, before the closer role was really defined. However, he was wore down as he wasn’t able to last like Smith was. That might hurt him. But he actually finished 4th in balloting this year, which shows that he’s gaining momentum. Why he was ranked higher than both Gossage and Smith, I’m not sure, but I do hope all three guys eventually get in.

I have a huge problem with Ryne Sandberg getting so many votes and so much support from the media as the guy who should be in, but isn’t. As you can tell, I’m not a Sandberg guy at all. Sandberg was a guy made for Wrigley field. He was a product of the ball park as a hitter. He had very good stats, especially for a second baseman, usually hit third for his Cub teams and had great defensive statistics. However, Bob Brenly used to joke when he was on the Giants that Ryne Sandberg had to dive for balls Robby Thompson (second baseman for the Giants during the same time Sandberg was playing for the Cubs) used to routinely get to. That used to always get me because Sandberg was continually winning gold gloves because he’d field everything hit one or two steps to the right or left of him, while Thompson was going after everything. I’d guarantee Thompson helped his pitcher’s more so than Sandberg did. Also, towards the end of his career, Sandberg quit, twice. By then, he was stepping so far in the bucket, that his average had dropped faster than Gossage’s high heat. He was close to a career .300 hitter for much of his career and then simply looked scared at the plate. I can’t get that Sandberg out of my head.

Jim Rice, Don Mattingly, and Dale Murphy were in their primes right when I started watching baseball. Actually Rice might’ve been in the tale end of his. So I have a soft spot in my heart for those guys. Rice in my mind should have the best shot as his numbers are the best. Mattingly was the best hitter in the game, but only for a couple seasons and then his power numbers just dropped off big time. I don’t think Donnie Baseball will ever get in. I think Dale Murphy will come up short too. He is just under 400 home runs but his batting average is much lower than Rice’s and they have a similar amount of HR’s. Murphy was an above average center fielder as well for his size, but near the end of his career, he just dropped off the map. Out of those three, I think Rice has a chance.

And finally, my take on Pete Rose. I’m with everyone who says Pete may have finally admitted guilt, but he shows no remorse for it. But I’m against that being the reason to not let him in the Hall of Fame. If there were reasons why you wouldn’t vote Rose in, betting on baseball, lack of integrity, and a few others that probably show him as a shallow man would be some of them. However, because he isn’t showing enough remorse isn’t enough to keep him out. If you tell the guy to admit that he bet on the game, and he can be in, jeez, don’t change your mind now. He’s a liar, and probably a cheater. But he also is baseball’s hit king and he needs to be in the Hall. He might not deserve another chance to be employed by major league baseball, but he does need to be in the Hall. And while we’re at it, let’s get Shoeless Joe Jackson in there as well.

Next Blogger: The Historical Togos Game

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