Eva Marie Saint/エヴァ・マリー・セイント

ヒッチコックサスペンスの古典的名作『北北西に進路をとれ』を観た。過去数えきれないほど観た作品だがいつ観ても面白い。

作中、主演男優のCary Grantが主演女優のEva Marie Saintと列車の食堂車で会話をするシーンがある。映画史上でも有名なシーンの一つだが、このシーンを撮影する際、監督のHitchcockはEva Marie Saintに３つだけ注文をした：

１）Caryをまっすぐ見つめて目を離さないこと

２）話しながら手を動かさないこと

３）声をトーンをあげないこと

尚、デビュー作のOn the Waterfrontでメガホンをとった巨匠Elia Kazan監督は、女優に対して事細かに演技指導をすることで有名だったそうだが、Hitchcockは逆で、美しい女優を美しく見せることにかけて神がかりの才能を誇ったイギリス生まれの巨匠は、女優の魅力を引き出す最低限のお願いをして、あとは女優に任せるという手法をとっていたようだ。

なお、もしあなたが女性で、デートで誰かを魅了したかったら、Hitchcockの前述の助言は、今の時代でも役に立つかもしれません・・・ネ？

1924年生まれのEva Marie Saintは、現在もご存命。今年の7月4日に101歳の誕生日を迎える。まる。

I was watching Alfred Hitchcock’s suspense classic North by Northwest over dinner tonight. It stars Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint. I became a big fan of hers when I first saw her in this film—and since then, who knows how many times I’ve watched it? Each viewing still feels like a fresh pleasure.

Eva made her film debut in On the Waterfront in 1954 at the age of 30. She co-starred with Marlon Brando and won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. While this black-and-white masterpiece showcases her talent as a rising actress, there’s something undeniably more alluring—more womanly—about her presence in North by Northwest.

My favorite scene comes fairly early in the film, when she and Cary Grant meet on a train and talk over a meal in the dining car. When filming the scene, Alfred Hitchcock gave Eva just three simple pieces of advice:

1. Look Cary Grant straight in the eye

2. Don’t move your hands while speaking

3. Avoid speaking in a high-pitched voice

Honestly, that sounds like great advice for anyone trying to be charming on a date.

Now that I think of it, I miss watching On the Waterfront. Maybe I’ll buy a DVD and add it to my collection.

Eva Marie Saint is now 100 years old—and she’ll be turning 101 this July.

Boxing Trainer Joel Diaz

Let’s talk about Joel Diaz today.

He was the trainer for Ramon Cardenas, who faced Naoya Inoue in the junior featherweight title fight on Cinco de Mayo.

I listened to Diaz’s interview after the bout, and he struck me as a top-notch trainer. Two things stood out in particular.

First is his analytical ability. He clearly understands what his fighter has in his arsenal and knows what to use in which situation. It’s as if he’s running a complex mental flowchart: if one option doesn’t work, he already knows what else to try. After the first round, for example, his immediate concern was whether Inoue’s power was going to be a serious problem. Ramon said no. That allowed Diaz to confidently advise him to keep pressuring Inoue. After all, Ramon had come down from featherweight and had experience dealing with heavier punchers.

The second quality that stood out was his sound judgment. After the knockdown in Round 7, Diaz said to Ramon, “I’ll give you one more f**kin’ round. Why? Because I see you slowing down.” That tells you everything. Speed is a core part of Ramon’s game. And if that weapon is no longer effective, then going toe-to-toe with a fighter like Inoue—the Monster—is a losing battle.

Some people online said the referee stopped the fight too early, but Diaz himself said in the interview that he was ready to throw in the towel when the ref stepped in. That tells you the stoppage was perfectly timed—at least from the perspective of the man who knows Ramon best. Diaz understood exactly what his fighter could still do—and what he couldn’t.

One moment from the post-fight interview really intrigued me. An interviewer asked if the left hook that briefly knocked down Inoue was something they had specifically prepared for. To my surprise, Diaz said no. Honestly, I think he was bluffing. Of course they practiced it. Any serious preparation would’ve involved studying Inoue’s past fights—especially his first-round knockdown against Luis Nery. Diaz could’ve easily said yes. So why didn’t he? My guess is: he didn’t want to show his hand. He wanted Team Inoue to underestimate him.

Why? Because Joel Diaz is going to be in the opposite corner again soon—as the trainer for Murodjon Akhmadaliev, Inoue’s next opponent.

In Inoue’s upcoming bout, his physical talent, mental toughness, and boxing IQ will be as critical as ever. But don’t overlook the strategic element. The trainers play a huge role in shaping the outcome. In other words, the junior featherweight title match in September won’t just be Monster vs. Akhmadaliev—it’ll be Shingo Inoue vs. Joel Diaz too.

Race Recap: The 45th Tateyama Wakashio Marathon

The 45th Tateyama Wakashio Marathon

The 45th Tateyama Wakashio Marathon was held in the beautiful coastal city of Tateyama, located at the southern tip of the Boso Peninsula in Chiba Prefecture. I participated in the race and achieved another sub-4 marathon. Here’s how the race unfolded for me.

Race Start: A Cautious Beginning
The starting gun went off at 10:00 AM sharp. The temperature was a crisp 8.9°C, accompanied by strong northerly winds at 7 meters per second. The first 4 kilometers allowed runners to settle into a rhythm, aided by favorable tailwinds. However, the race had only just begun, and I knew there was a long way to go. Pacing cautiously was crucial. 

Thanks to my strong record in a previous race, I had the privilege of starting in Corral A. Still, within the first 10 kilometers, I was overtaken by many runners, including some from slower corrals. I didn’t let it bother me—I stuck to my target pace, guided by my training and understanding of my own capabilities.

First 10K: Settling In

At the 10K mark, I checked my split: 51 minutes and some seconds. It surprised me; I thought I had been running slightly slower. Deciding to err on the side of caution, I slowed my pace for the next 10 kilometers, knowing that this section of the course was strategically the most important.

10–20K: Staying Conservative

This stretch presented three key challenges. First, the increased undulations subtly wore down the legs. Second, the temperature rose as the course moved to the peninsula's southern side, where the hills blocked the cooling northern winds and reflected sunlight. Finally, the long, straight downhills tempted runners to speed up, risking burnout later.

Aware of these pitfalls, I maintained a conservative pace and took a couple of short bathroom breaks to relax and prepare for the demanding 20–30K section.

20–30K: Battling Hills and Winds
The 20–30K portion was even hillier than the previous segment. To make matters worse, the northern winds hit hard between the 22K and 25K marks, delivering both physical and mental challenges. I focused on running economically, especially on the uphill sections, to conserve energy.

The course’s highlight—and its toughest test—came at the 30K mark: the infamous Heartbreak Hill. This steep, 500-meter climb forced some runners to walk while others gritted their teeth and pushed on. Spectators lining the hill cheered enthusiastically, many of them clearly runners themselves, understanding the encouragement we needed.

30–40K: The Final Push
After conquering the hill, I returned to the coastal road with about 9 kilometers to go. The terrain leveled out somewhat, and more spectators gathered along the route. Some even recognized me from earlier and shouted, “Welcome back, Caveman!” Their support gave me a much-needed boost.

Initially, I had planned to pick up my pace in this final stretch. However, a twinge in my left hamstring signaled the onset of a cramp. Likely compensating for my injured right calf, my left leg was bearing extra strain. I abandoned the idea of speeding up and focused on maintaining an even rhythm.

While my pace wasn’t faster, I steadily overtook other runners who were struggling, having spent too much energy earlier in the race. This is where smart pacing made all the difference.

The Final Kilometer: A Battle to the Finish
As I neared the finish line, I saw the landmark resort condominium in the distance. Beyond it lay the end of the race. The sign reading “1K to go” brought memories of my training sessions to mind. “Just one more kilometer,” I told myself. “You’ve got this.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my right calf, as if stabbed by a knife. “Not now!” I screamed internally. Slowing down to cope, I mustered every ounce of positive energy to keep moving. Smiling at spectators, I hoped their cheers would spark some magical burst of adrenaline to see me through.

The final stretch began with a pebbled section. Running on it in my yoga socks was agony. The pain in my soles almost made me forget about my cramping calf. Once the pebbles gave way to soft grass, I tried to kick for the last 30 meters. But my right calf seized completely, locking up and throwing me off balance. I limped across the finish line, determined not to give up.

Post-Race Reflection
The race was over. I had done it. Relief, joy, and disbelief washed over me. Despite the setbacks—my calf issue and less-than-ideal tapering—I had completed the marathon. Gratitude filled me for the experience and the lessons it brought.

The Aftermath

The next day, I was barely able to walk without a stick, and I’ll likely remain this way for a while. But I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.