藤本幸弘オフィシャルブログ
一級小型船舶免許の自分の顔の、5年おき30年の変遷。
初めて取った当時は今みたいなカード型の免許じゃなかったんですよね。
Thirty years of change, captured in my face on my small boat operator’s license, photographed every five years.
When I first got the license, it wasn’t the card-sized ID we have today.
今週、東京ドームのバックネット裏で広島巨人戦を観てきました。目の前にはグラウンド、大型ビジョンには「STARTING LINEUP」の文字。順位表を眺めているときとは違って、球場に座ると、どうしても期待する側に回ってしまいます。
「巨人・大鵬・卵焼き」と言われた時代そのものではないけれど、僕にはV9時代の巨人と、王貞治・長嶋茂雄のON砲をリアルタイムで観た記憶があります。二人は、歴史映像の中だけの選手ではありません。
川上哲治監督のもと、巨人は9年連続でリーグ優勝と日本一を達成しました。そして翌1974年、長嶋が現役を引退します。あの頃の巨人を思い出すと、記録より先に、選手の姿が浮かんできます。
球場も選手も変わりました。それでも、バックネット越しにグラウンドを眺めると、昔から知っている巨人につながっている気がする。応援するチームには、少年時代を少し預けてあるのかもしれません。
だから、阪神の優勝が近いと言われても、つい逆転の条件を計算してしまう。大人になって数字には強くなったつもりですが、こういうときだけは都合のいい計算をしたくなります。笑
本日10月1日の試合前、阪神は77勝59敗1分、巨人は76勝62敗2分。差は2ゲームですが、残りは阪神が6試合、巨人が3試合。近く見えて、追いかける時間はほとんど残っていません。
引き分けがなければ、巨人が3連勝し、阪神が2勝4敗以下なら逆転できます。巨人が2勝1敗でも、阪神が6連敗すれば可能性はある。ただ、そこまで相手の負けを願うのも忙しい。まずは自分たちが勝つことです。
今日の甲子園は、その阪神との直接対決。阪神の優勝マジックは3で、巨人が敗れれば1になる見込みです。厳しい試合ですが、勝てばまだ続きを待つことができます。
昔の巨人が強かったことと、今の巨人を応援することは、別の話です。それでも、王と長嶋を観ていた頃から続く気持ちは、順位表だけでは片づきません。ましてや今はオールジャパンかドジャースを応援してしまう自分がいる。見守りたいですね。
This week, I watched the Hiroshima Carp take on the Yomiuri Giants from behind home plate at the Tokyo Dome.
The field stretched out right in front of me, while the giant screen displayed the words “STARTING LINEUP.” It is a different feeling from simply looking at the standings. Once you take your seat in the stadium, you inevitably find yourself on the side of hope.
I was not quite born into the era when people used to say “Giants, Taiho, and tamagoyaki” as the three things every Japanese boy loved. But I do remember watching the Giants of their V9 era in real time, and seeing the legendary “ON” combination of Sadaharu Oh and Shigeo Nagashima.
They are not merely players preserved in old archival footage. They belong to my own memories.
Under manager Tetsuharu Kawakami, the Giants won the Central League pennant and the Japan Series nine years in a row. Then, in 1974, Nagashima retired.
When I think back to the Giants of those days, it is not the records that come to mind first. It is the players themselves—their figures on the field.
The stadium has changed. The players have changed. And yet, when I look out over the field from behind home plate, I somehow feel connected to the Giants I have known all my life.
Perhaps when we choose a team to support, we entrust a small part of our childhood to it.
That may be why, even when everyone says the Hanshin Tigers are close to clinching the pennant, I still find myself calculating the conditions under which the Giants could come from behind.
I like to think I have become better with numbers as I have grown older. But at times like this, I find myself making the most conveniently optimistic calculations possible.
As of before today’s game, October 1, the Tigers are 77–59–1, while the Giants are 76–62–2. The gap is only two games, but there is an important difference: Hanshin has six games remaining, while Yomiuri has only three.
It looks close on paper, but there is almost no time left to make up the difference.
Assuming there are no ties, the Giants can still overtake Hanshin if they win all three of their remaining games and the Tigers go 2–4 or worse. Even if the Giants go 2–1, there is still a mathematical possibility if Hanshin loses all six of its remaining games.
But wishing for that many losses by the other team would be exhausting in itself.
First, we have to win our own games.
And today, at Koshien Stadium, the Giants face Hanshin head-on.
The Tigers’ magic number is three, and if the Giants lose today, it is expected to drop to one. It is a difficult game, but if the Giants win, there is still a story left to wait for.
The fact that the Giants were once great and the fact that I support the Giants today are two different things.
And yet, the feeling that began when I watched Oh and Nagashima cannot be reduced to a place in the standings.
Especially now, when I find myself cheering for Team Japan—or the Dodgers—more often than I might have expected.
Still, I want to keep watching.
Perhaps that is what supporting a team is really about.
会食に向かう道すがら、六本木の東京ミッドタウンで開催中の「Ferrari Festival Tokyo 2026」に立ち寄ってきました。生憎の雨。
F40、F50、ラ・フェラーリといった名車にはカバーが掛けられ、跳ね馬たちも雨宿りです。
それでも、お目当てのF80と、フル電動のLuce（ルーチェ）は観ることができました。
海外のSNSの投稿では「プリウス18 Max Pro」と呼ばれている、あのオール電化フェラーリです（笑）。
エンジン音まで含めてフェラーリだと思ってきた世代には、なかなか大きな転換。
跳ね馬が電気で走る時代を、どんな気持ちで迎えるのか。
実車を前にすると、技術の進歩と、自分の好みは別の話なのだなと思います。
The F80 and Luce
On my way to dinner, I stopped by Tokyo Midtown in Roppongi, where the “Ferrari Festival Tokyo 2026” is currently being held.
Unfortunately, it was raining. The legendary F40, F50, and LaFerrari were all covered up, as if even the Prancing Horses had decided to take shelter from the rain.
Still, I was able to see the two cars I was most interested in: the F80 and Luce, Ferrari’s fully electric model. On social media overseas, that all-electric Ferrari has jokingly been dubbed the “Prius 18 Max Pro.” (Laughs.)
For those of us who grew up thinking that a Ferrari meant not only the car itself but also the sound of its engine, this represents quite a major shift.
How are we supposed to feel about a future in which the Prancing Horse runs on electricity?
Standing in front of the actual cars, I found myself thinking that technological progress and personal preference are two entirely different things.
今日クリニックFの診療前に、5回目の1級船舶の海技免許の更新に行ってきました。更新場所はクリニックFから歩いて2分。5年おきの更新なので、25年も持ってたんですね。
昔はジェットスキーやプレジャーボートの運転が好きでしたが、最近は船に乗っていません。ずいぶん前に呉に置いていた両親の船もすでに無く、たまにはレンタルして乗ろうかなあ。
The Captain Who Never Goes to Sea
Before starting my appointments at Clinic F today, I went to renew my Class 1 Small Vessel Operator’s License for the fifth time.
The renewal office is just a two-minute walk from Clinic F. Since the license has to be renewed every five years, I suddenly realized that I’ve had it for 25 years.
I used to enjoy driving jet skis and pleasure boats, but these days, I hardly ever get out on the water. The boat my parents once kept in Kure is long gone, too.
Maybe it’s time to rent a boat again and get back out on the water, just once in a while.
両親と広島県呉市にある大和ミュージアムに行ってきました。
2005年に開館したこの博物館は、2025年2月から全面休館に入り、建物や設備だけでなく展示内容まで大幅に刷新。2026年4月23日、21年前の開館日と同じ日にリニューアルオープンしました。地方都市の博物館としては異例ともいえる年間約80万人が訪れてきた施設です。僕自身も3回目の入館でした。
大和ミュージアムという名前から、巨大戦艦「大和」の博物館だと思っている人も多いでしょう。もちろん中央に鎮座する10分の1戦艦大和は圧倒的です。しかし今回歩いてみて改めて感じたのは、ここは「大和という一隻の船」の博物館ではない、ということでした。
むしろ主役は呉という町が持っていた技術力なのだと思います。
今回の改装では、3階展示室が大きく変わりました。新たに焦点が当てられたのが「広工廠」です。呉周辺では造船だけでなく航空機の研究・開発・製造も行われており、展示室には「誉」や「火星」といった実物の航空機エンジンも並びます。戦艦を造った町が、同時に航空工学や材料、機械加工の先端地域でもあったことが見えてくる。
僕はこうした場所を訪れるたびに、戦争の歴史には二つの見方があると思います。一つは「何が起きたのか」を記憶すること。もう一つは、その時代の人間が「何を作ることができたのか」を見ることです。
大和は悲劇的な最後を迎えました。しかし、全長263メートル、当時として世界最大級の戦艦を設計し、巨大な船体を造り、動かすためには、造船、冶金、溶接、光学、通信、機械工学など、膨大な技術の集積が必要でした。
だから大和を見るとき、「戦争はすごかった」と考えるのではない。人間は、国家規模で知識と技術を一点に集めると、ここまで巨大なものを造ってしまうのか。その凄みと怖さを同時に感じるのです。
そして博物館とは、本来そこまで考えさせてくれる場所なのだと思います。
21年前に開館した大和ミュージアムが、今回掲げている方向性は「歴史を未来へ」。戦争を経験した世代が少なくなっていく2026年に、この博物館をもう一度作り直す意味は大きい。
展示されているのは、80年前の技術です。それこそアポロ時代に月にも行けるのと同等の完成度の高い技術力。けれど、問いかけられているのは、むしろこれからの僕たちなのでしょう。これだけの技術を、人間は次に何のために使うのか。
大和ミュージアムを出たあと、最後に残ったのは戦艦の大きさではなく、その問いでした。
I recently visited the Yamato Museum in Kure, Hiroshima, with my parents.
Opened in 2005, the museum closed completely in February 2025 for a major renewal—not only of its building and facilities, but also of its exhibitions. It reopened on April 23, 2026, exactly 21 years after its original opening day.
For a museum in a regional city, it has attracted an extraordinary number of visitors—around 800,000 a year. This was my third visit.
Given the name “Yamato Museum,” many people probably assume that it is simply a museum about the giant battleship Yamato. And of course, the 1:10 scale model of Yamato that dominates the central exhibition hall is breathtaking.
But walking through the newly renovated museum this time, I was reminded of something more fundamental:
This is not really a museum about a single ship called Yamato.
The real protagonist, I think, is the technological power that once made Kure what it was.
One of the most significant changes in the renovation is the third-floor exhibition space. A new focus has been placed on the Hiro Naval Arsenal, where not only ships but also aircraft were researched, developed, and manufactured.
The exhibition now includes actual aircraft engines, including the Homare and Kasei engines.
What emerges is a picture of Kure as a center not only of shipbuilding, but also of advanced aeronautical engineering, materials science, and precision manufacturing.
Whenever I visit places like this, I find myself thinking that there are two ways of looking at the history of war.
One is to remember what happened.
The other is to ask what human beings of that era were capable of creating.
Yamato met a tragic end. But to design a 263-meter battleship—one of the largest in the world at the time—and then build and operate a vessel of that scale required an extraordinary accumulation of knowledge and technology: shipbuilding, metallurgy, welding, optics, communications, mechanical engineering, and much more.
So when I look at Yamato, I do not simply think, “War was extraordinary.”
What I feel is something more unsettling:
When human beings concentrate knowledge and technology on a single objective at the scale of an entire nation, they can create something this enormous.
There is awe in that.
And there is fear, too.
Perhaps that is what a museum should ultimately do. It should not merely tell us what happened. It should make us think about what it means.
The direction the Yamato Museum has chosen for its renewal is captured in a simple phrase:
“From History to the Future.”
In 2026, as the generation that directly experienced the war continues to grow smaller, there is profound significance in rebuilding this museum and reconsidering how its history should be passed on.
What we see on display is technology from eighty years ago.
Technology so sophisticated that, in some respects, it belongs to the same extraordinary age of engineering that would soon take humanity to the Moon.
But perhaps the real question being asked is not about the past at all.
It is being asked of us.
What will human beings use this level of knowledge and technology for next?
When I left the Yamato Museum, it was not the sheer size of the battleship that stayed with me.
It was that question.
