The younger generation has also succeeded in pushing for lighter onfield regimens--with the help of some progressive coaches and managers. Rigorous workouts were once the norm. Coaches pelted infielders with painful line drives until they were bruised and shaking. Pitchers had to throw as many as 300 pitches a day, risking damage to their arms and their careers. But the unconventional approach of BayStars manager Hiroshi Gondo has proven that less can be more. In his debut season last year, the skipper shortened practices and did away with the obsequious honorifics that players use when addressing their manager. Most importantly, Gondo allowed his younger players to strut their stuff, encouraging hitters to eschew the selfless sacrifice bunt for a big swing at the ball. Gondo's unorthodox style might well have been dismissed by the sport's management if he hadn't taken his long-beleaguered team to a Japan Series title last season. But from the start, he had the support of his younger players, who grew up with increased media coverage of less strenuous American baseball techniques. "Practice times were shorter in the U.S.," says Ichiro of his stay with the Mariners. "I was happy because I had free time after the regular practices to use for whatever I wanted." Acknowledges Atsushi Tamaru, spokesman for the Chiba Lotte Marines: "I think we're beginning to realize that quality is more important than quantity."
The new breed is also trying to kickstart Japan's emasculated players' union. While the American Major League Baseball players union wielded so much influence that it strangled the 1994 season to a premature end, the Japanese have never successfully organized a strike. But under the leadership of Yakult Swallows catcher Atsuya Furuta, the union is sharpening its teeth, calling for, among other things, bigger pension payments and permission to bring agents into salary negotiations with the owners. Furuta also hopes to resolve disputes over the draft and free agency, both perennial sore spots between players and management. Introduced in 1965, the nation's antiquated draft is played out each year with the melodramatic ritual of a kabuki play. "There's a tragic air to the draft," says George Field, a veteran observer of Japanese baseball. "Each year it seems another person is sacrificed for the system." Although American baseball also has a draft, Japanese players have a longer time commitment with their initial team than their American counterparts, and the Japan Inc. mentality pressures players to stay with one ballclub for life. Such constraints moved highly touted high-school pitcher Nagisa Arakaki to pick university over the pros last November after an unlucky draft pick quashed his hopes of joining the Fukuoka Daiei Hawks. When Arakaki refused to sign with the Orix BlueWave, team scout Katsutoshi Miwata fatally hurled himself off a building in despair.
Reform is also needed, say players, in the free-agency system, which dampens young players' chances to play overseas while still in their prime. While U.S. players are free to switch teams after six years, Japanese baseballers have to wait nine years before they are eligible for free agency. There is one way out: under the "posting" system, a ball club can place a player on the international market and sell him to the highest bidder. But posting doesn't take into account the player's desired destination. Unless Furuta and others succeed in changing the regulations, Ichiro is in a bind. He can wait until after the 2001 season, when he will qualify for free agency, but he may no longer be at the peak of his game. Alternatively, he can allow the BlueWave to post him, but he would likely lose his dream of playing for the Mariners, who probably don't have the cash to emerge as top bidder.
There is also the possibility that Ichiro could just tell Japanese baseball to stuff it and head to the States--as he reportedly threatened to do in order to score his fat salary. Doing so would mean that team owners wouldn't allow him to play in Japan ever again. To jump ship, Ichiro would need the support of a powerful American owner like the New York Yankees' George Steinbrenner, who has expressed interest in the hitter and is hardly averse to stirring up controversy. And a slick agent like Don Nomura, who wangled a sweetheart deal for Yankees pitcher Irabu, would help, too. How Ichiro finesses his quandary could well affect the futures of other players who wish to show off their skills in the U.S., like relief ace Sasaki and shortstop Kazuo Matsui, a base-stealer known for his pink batting gloves. The spotlight is on Ichiro, and the question is whether he can remain defiant against Japanese baseball's hidebound leadership.
With reporting by John De Bellis/Osaka
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Ichiro Suzuki. Kyodo
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Young Japan Home
The Me Generation:
The country's privileged youth are struggling to define what they want. Their efforts--both frivolous and fundamental--are already beginning to transform the culture
Day in the Life:
What a 17-year-old girl does--and buys
Culture Club:
Tokyo has taken over as the source of what's hip and happening for the rest of East Asia
Sound Factory:
An Okinawa school turns out stars
Talk Talk:
What teens are chatting about online
Not Playing Ball:
A fresh generation is starting to shake up the hidebound world of Japanese baseball
Outside the Box:
Breaking the education straitjacket
Viewpoint:
Actress Youki Kudoh says respect the old ways
Viewpoint:
Parents should examine their own ethics
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