This will probably be one of those posts that a lot of readers in America could care less about and won’t find the slightest bit novel, but when I was recently in Sacramento around my sister’s house a sign caught my eye advertising a sushi sports bar.

I like sushi and I have an soft spot in my heart for sports bars. Not so much the slick, 30 state of the art TVs and $8 beer kind of places (although under the right circumstances I can deal with that), but rather the run down, greasy breakfast/morning happy hour kind of places. Just after university I loved nothing better than prying myself out of bed at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning and walking to Kip’s on Durant Avenue near Telegraph in Berkeley to watch the Dolphins and whatever other games were on. The place was one of the holdouts on the then recent smoking ban and was run by this wacky chain-smoking Chinese guy that sprinted back and forth from the register to the kitchen, popping pizzas in and out of the oven and frying bacon and eggs for 10. I always thought of him being named Kip, even though he obviously wasn’t — the place had been in business even when my Dad lived around there in the 60s.

At night Kip’s was a frat bar and even though I never went at night I liked the feel of the place on Sunday mornings. My feet would always stick to the wood floors and I could imagine the action from the night before. The short, white, miniskirts,the over-tanned legs crossed on the stools, the hulking beefcakes from the football team hovering above. Gin Blossoms blasting. Vomit in the toilet.

I’m sure Oshima’s is nothing like Kip’s, but in that part of Sacramento — well, maybe the Gin Blossoms part every once in a while. The menu is kind of your average, trendy, over-the-top upscale joint — the “110 Degree Fahrenheit” roll is spicy lobster, spicy kanikama and red tuna on top for $12.50… a “Natomas,” named for the road it’s on (just down the street from Arco Arena) which is shrimp tempura with seared tuna, avocado, unagi, tobiko, and green onion…and the kicker, the thing that always gets me about sushi in the U.S., eight pieces of sashimi (chef’s choice) for $11.95, which is $3 more than I pay for a whole fish pulled out of a salt water tank, gutted, sliced, and handed to me wrapped.

I mention this not as part of some elaborate cockeyed slam of Oshima — because I would have loved nothing more than to have devoured a Natomas or three while watching Matt Cain put the finishing touches on his four-hit shutout of the Nationals today. I only mention it because it’s striking that the place exsists, and obviously does some business. By the looks of it it’s an expensive place to maintain so I’m guessing there’s a draw.

I did a quick search for other sushi sports bars. There are several in the L.A. area, where I suspect sushi and sports first joined hands. Kai Sushi Sports bar in Torrence on Crenshaw Blvd has info in Japanese and Korean (as well as English), but the patron reviews I found look a little scary…for a variety of reasons:

You call yourself a sushi bar? DO NOT get sushi or sashimi here. ” WTF is that on the plate?” I was so embarrassed to have brought my friend here for dinner~ My first time too~…sorry I even suggested this place.
Chill place to come for….beer and chicken teriyaki (it’s decent) but anything else..take it somewhere else. Maybe the rolls are ok, but knowing that their using the same quality fish they use for sushi…YECK! Worst sushi spot I’ve ever been to. The service blows…maybe they should hire people that understands English.

sandy I., L.A.

and

Kai Sushi Sports Bar

I got “FOOD POISONING”…. BEWARE OF THE SUSHI. it was coming out at both ends.

mary p., Torrence

Uh-oh. But then there’s the imaginatively named Sushi Sports Bar and Grill in Gilbert, AZ which got an 86% rah’d rating on something called Boo Rah. Hey, if you’re interested in working at one of these here’s an ad looking for a managers, a sushi chef, a line cook and dishwashers at this place.

Good luck.

I didn’t make it to Oshima, but maybe I will someday. Maybe the Maloof Brothers will be there after a Kings/Mavericks game. Sitting at a table with Mark Cuban just after he puts the finishing touches on buying the Cubs. Maybe I’ll walk up to him and tell him I scout for the Cubs in Korea and we’ll all have a beer on Mark. It’ll be like one of those dogs playing poker scenes.

Or maybe I’ll never make it there.