Japan Blog

Week 1: Jan 28th - Feb 3rd

Entries completed: Jan 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, Feb 1st & 2nd
January 28th

Here we go. Today I am leaving my family for Japan, and I won’t be returning to the United States for at least eight months, maybe nine. But you know what? This may sound nuts, but this around-the-world flight snuck up on me. There’s just too much going on in my life, I really haven’t had time to think about it. And maybe that’s a good thing.

I signed my contract three months ago, but about three weeks later we decided to move from just outside of Houston to just outside of Atlanta. You could say we’re “just outside of” kind of people, or as I like to say, “true suburbanites.” My wife couldn’t live without Target, TJ Maxx and Marshall’s. They have always been pre-requisites of any place we live. Of course, she will find out exactly what it is like not to have those places very soon.

In the span of a few days we placed a winning bid on a house near Atlanta, and that sent us into crazy-mode. We had hardly begun to get our Houston home ready to sell and suddenly we were in contract on the Atlanta home. You know the drill. I had to find a realtor, do some minor and major repairs and try to sell our home of the last eight and a half years in a slow market at a bad time of the year to sell – and there’s that Japan trip hanging over my head, too. If you don’t believe in divine intervention you may after this story. The house sold three days after we hired a realtor and – get this -- we didn’t have to do any of the home improvements because it was all negotiated in the home price saving us lots of headaches and money. We closed in Atlanta on December 27th and in Texas on the 29th.

That left one month before the Japan flight to move all of our belongings. I have always felt weird about strangers handling my things, and I think it stems back to a story my dad told me when I was about 8 or 9. He used a moving company to move from Virginia to NY -- he was a Navy man of 20 years -- and someone stole some car rims. It’s amazing how some of the most insignificant stories people tell you as a child stick with you and affect decisions you make as an adult. I truly believe that is was because my dad told me that story that I decided that we would be moving ourselves from Houston to Atlanta.

My wife and I packed every box from our four-bedroom, three-and-a-half bathroom house and we moved every piece of furniture, including the refrigerator into three 8x16x8 containers. We locked the boxes with our own locks – thanks, Dad – and then we had a shipping company take them to Atlanta for us. It’s easy for me to look back now and write in just a few words how we packed our entire house, as if it was only that easy. Moving was a quite the workout. There were days I woke up sore and dead tired. I'm hoping that has some positive effects on the fastball this season. If so, I'll be offering to move friends, or strangers for that matter, next off-season. You can hold me to that.

I tell you this only to help you understand why I haven’t really been thinking too much about how I’m about to pick up my life and head to Japan. In addition to the move, I have also been working out, throwing, taking the kids to school, trying to find my way around my new home town, getting utilities turned on, applying for a new driver’s license and all those other great things that come with moving to a new state. I had four weeks to get as much done as possible before I left my home, and my country.

It really wasn’t until yesterday morning -- about 24 hours before my flight -- when it really started to sink in that I was leaving for Japan. The hardest part, as it always is, was leaving my wife and two kids, 7 and 5 years old. They’ll join me in about a month, but that doesn’t make leaving any easier. For all the great things that this baseball life has to offer, the constant time away from my family is one huge drawback. When I got home for the season last year it was the first time I saw my family in more than a month. You want to know how ready I was to get home? I drove for 17 straight hours after we had lost a one-game playoff to the Toledo Mudhens to see who would go into the postseason. My kids were ecstatic to see me. After I told them I was home for good, my son turned to my wife and told her, “Mommy, go to jobs.com and find a job so daddy didn't have to play baseball anymore!” He was just 6 at the time and I am pretty sure he didn't even know there really is a jobs.com. It was at that moment I decided it wasn't fair to do this to him anymore, so from now on the kids will either be home schooled or go to school in whatever city I’m playing. Japan included.

Spring training in Japan is run slightly different than in the U.S. It is divided into two parts. The first part is three-to-four weeks in the spring training city, which is Miyazaki for me. We’ll work out and play inter-squad games. Then for the second part we’ll fly back to our home city, Fukuoka, and we’ll play exhibition games against other Japanese teams for about another month. The team asked us not to bring our families to Miyazaki because it’s supposed to be a time to bond with your teammates. I’m definitely getting the impression that the words “team” and “chemistry” carry a lot more weight in Japan than they do in the States. So I have asked my family once again to go it alone for a few weeks. The kids are not happy, but they understand. My wife is a single mother for nearly four months a year while I play baseball and she is magnificent at it. As I get older and go through this more, I really have a lot of sympathy for single moms and military families. A family apart is not family at all and it can be really difficult on kids and parents. If it wasn't for my rock of a wife, I could never do this. She takes all the pressure off me.

I have always had a fear of international travel. I’m not sure exactly what it is or where it comes from, but I assume it probably has a lot to do with the language barriers. The only times I have ever left the United States was for baseball. I traveled to Montreal, Toronto and Vancouver, and I once went to Puerto Rico for three days to represent the Detroit Tigers at the Major League Baseball Players’ Association annual meetings. So to say this travel experience will be like no other I have ever had may be an understatement.

I left my house in Atlanta on Sunday at 5 in the morning and I’m scheduled to get into Fukuoka, Japan at 8:10 Monday night. Japan is 14 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, so during this trip I will lose almost two full days of my life. The great perk in all of this is that the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks are flying me first class on two of the three flights (estimated cost: $10,000) it will take to get me to Fukuoka. The longest flight, from Chicago to Tokyo, is 13 hours. This was my very first first-class lounge experience. It’s a private lounge with upscale hotel bathrooms, sushi, sandwiches and bottled beers from around the world -- not half bad. I thought about having a beer before the trip, but it was 10 o’clock in the morning and I ultimately decided against it. There was a time in my life when I don’t think I would have ever let a free beer get away, especially an import. I guess I really am getting old.

The flight took off a little late from Chicago, but to be honest I’m not sure how late. It’s safe to say I was distracted. About three quarters of the way to the airport I realized that I forgot my wedding ring and watch on the television in my bedroom. I had my phone, but the flight attendant reprimanded me for trying to send a text message from my seat on the plane even though passengers were still boarding. The attendant was very nice and told me in her broken English hat I had to have my phone turned off immediately when I boarded the airplane, even while the cabin door was still open. Fortunately, she did tell me I was welcome to step out onto the jet way if I needed to make a call. Which was good, because suddenly I received a phone call from my security company informing me that my alarm was going off and my wife could not be reached (she was at church). But I knew what had happened. She had to have set the alarm the wrong way. We have two cats and a dog, so we need to bypass to the motion detector. Or else the usual episode of chase-each-other-around-the-house will trip the alarm, and they did exactly that, twice.

Within a few minutes I had the alarm situation cleared up and we were finally ready to take off. Much to my surprise, I quickly fell asleep in my chair in one of those awkward airplane-sleeping positions. I actually was in a pretty deep sleep when I suddenly awoke, and you can understand my surprise to find out that we had not even taken off yet. My first deep nap of the 13-hour flight was already over, and we still had 13 hours to go.

But who needs sleep when you’re in first class? Let me tell you, the dining experience was excellent. Essentially it’s a seven-course meal on All Nippon Airways. You have the option of the Kaiseki, which is traditional Japanese fare, al la carte with a more Western menu, or you can chose the vegetarian/lighter fare menu. I figured Japanese food would dominate my diet for the next eight months, so I might as well get started now. I think the flight attendant was surprised I chose the Japanese menu -- and even more surprised half way through when I asked what certain pieces were and then told her how much I enjoyed them.

But at first appearance, the courses were definitely Fear Factor-esque. I started with the Zensai, which was smoked salmon roulade, grilled conger eel galantine and marinated herring roe, grilled smelt, simmered kelp roulade and egg terrine spiral. I don’t know what most of that means, but it was delicious. I even ate the tiny fish that looked like a minnow with its head cut off. It was stuffed with something and it went down smooth. There is no way my wife would have tried that. She tells me all the time how she likes sushi, but her version is California rolls. I was told they don’t even have California rolls in Japan. She insists she is going to be adventurous with her diet in Japan. We’ll see.

Next was the Nimonwan, which I think translates into boiled food. It was simmered duck breast, yuba (tofu crepe) and seasonal garnish in hot seafood stock. And it was all good. The only problem I ran into was I didn’t know what was what. I just looked at the menu, tried to guess what I was putting into my mouth and swallowed it hoping for the best. There were a couple of times I wasn’t even sure if what was on the plate was food or garnish. And every once in a while I fish-eyed the older Japanese gentleman sitting next to me to see what he was eating and not eating. I tried to imitate his chopstick technique as well, but that was disastrous.

Sushi was next, listed as Oshinogi. Three pieces were served; salmon, something with those orange fish eggs on top (roe maybe?) and a piece of white fish that was delicious. I asked what that was but couldn’t understand what the attendant said. She was nice to repeat it a few times, but I still couldn’t get it and therefore can't tell you what it was.

Served together were the Takiawase, Shusai (main course) and Sunomono. The Takiawase consisted of prawn and scallop simmered in light soy sauce, freeze dried tofu also simmered in light soy sauce and an assortment of simmered vegetables. The main course was lobster simmered in special soy sauce and the sunomono was salt boiled octopus and surf clams with Tosa vinegar. I determined that eating lobster with chopsticks was all but impossible, and it didn’t help that my neighbor took his time before digging in to his. Finally I couldn’t wait anymore, so I went half chopsticks half fingers to get it out. (I don’t think anyone was looking.) This course also came with steamed rice, miso soup and assorted pickles. These weren’t dill pickles; each was no longer than an inch and looked nothing like a pickle that I had ever seen before. I crushed it all and left just enough room for Azuki (Red) bean ice cream with a scoop of vanilla.

While my dinner was digesting, I started to wonder whether Japanese airline food had the same bad reputation as American airplane food, at least when airlines in America used to serve food. If so, I was feeling pretty good about how things were going to go from a dietary standpoint in Japan for me. I think I would be perfectly content eating what the airline served me on my flight this entire season.

Another thought came to mind. How in the world am I ever going to fly coach on an extended flight again? This pampering is ridiculous, but at the same time I’m not footing the bill. I have never purchased a full-fare first-class ticket anywhere before, but if I did something tells me I wouldn’t feel nearly as good about it when the credit card bill came.

When I first got on the plane one of the flight attendants offered me what basically looked like a pair of pajamas. They consisted of a gray-bluish button-down top and baggy sleeping pants. I politely declined and thought to myself, ‘Who would ever change out of their clothes and into an airline outfit?’ I soon got my answer, as a few minutes later a man in his thirties exited the restroom in the full outfit, slippers and all. Brave fellow.

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January 29th

I was pretty excited to land in Tokyo. Surprisingly the 13-hour flight went by pretty quickly. I hardly slept, but the comfort of the first-class seat made things very easy. As we descended toward Narita airport in Tokyo, I soon realized that I would be getting my first real test to see if I was over my fear of international travel. As we were coming in for the landing I hoped to get a glimpse of downtown Tokyo, but I was disappointed to find out that the city is actually located about an hour by the fastest train from the airport.

From the outside I was not all that impressed with the airport. It had kind of a Newark-or-LaGuardia-in-the-winter look to it. I don’t know why I anticipated it being some kind of architectural wonder, but for some reason I was anticipating something special -- or at least something different. But once I got off the plane and entered the terminal, I immediately noticed big differences between Narita and all the other American airports I have been to. This place was spotless and all of the signs were clearly marked. Narita was very easy to navigate. I remember thinking at one point during the flight, What if I get lost? What if I can’t find my way around the airport? I don’t have a cell phone that works anymore and I don’t have a phone number of anyone in Japan who could help me if I needed it. I could end up as Viktor Navorski, Tom Hank's character in The Terminal. But any concerns I had quickly subsided once I got off the plane. I was through immigration, got my bags, went through customs and had my bags rechecked for my domestic flight to Fukuoka in less than 20 minutes. Everything was close and the personnel at Narita made things very easy. Immigration was amazingly quick. The officer took my passport, checked my visa and embarkation papers, removed a staple, rip a perforated edge off something, re-stapled it, put a stamp and sticker in my passport and I was gone. He moved so fast I was convinced he was a former Three-card Monte dealer.

After getting checked in to my Fukuoka flight I headed to the gate where two of my American teammates, Adam Hyzdu and Rick Guttormson, were already waiting. Our final American player, former first-round pick of the Yankees Brian “Buck” Buchanan, arrived a few minutes later. It was good to see some American guys in Tokyo. Adam and I were teammates for a short while in the Reds system in 1995. Buck and I have played against each other before but never actually met. And to be honest, I had never really heard of Rick until I signed with the Hawks. But he played the previous two seasons with the Yakult Swallows, so it was definitely good to have a guy who has already been through the Japan experience with us here, and for the upcoming season.

Rick’s story is interesting. Originally signed by the Padres in 1997, Rick found himself released and toiling around in independent ball following an injury-riddled 2001 season. After two years there, the Mariners gave him a chance in their system in 2004. That winter he played in Venezuela and had an outstanding season. That led to an opportunity in Japan and two years later he’s making a seven-figure salary with a two-year contract for the Hawks. One of the great things about baseball is that you never know where this game is going to take you. Independent ball is usually a last ditch effort for players with pro experience, so to go from an independent league to a life-changing contract in Japan in the span of only three years is exactly why many guys keep going as long as they can.

The Fukuoka flight was a drag. I just wanted to land and get to my hotel so badly, but the flight just seemed to take forever. Once we finally landed we got our luggage and were greeted by the team’s three translators and – get this – about 15 to 20 photographers. I have played in big market cities before, specifically for both New York teams, but I have never been the center of attention on those teams. So it was a bit unusual to have flash bulbs going off at such a rapid rate, especially when all I was doing was using the Japanese version of a Smarte Carte to get my luggage to our car. I remember thinking I’m not an attractive photograph when I have my Sunday best on, so I can’t imagine how awful I must have looked after a 22-hour travel itinerary. Yeesh. But the photographers didn’t seem to care, because they must have taken 1,000 pictures of four tired American baseball players who just wanted to relax, unpack and grab a bite to eat.

The hotel they put us in for the two days we have here before we leave for Miyazaki was absolutely beautiful. It’s called the Sea Hawk Hotel and it’s located right next to the Yahoo! Dome, where we play our home games. It was a great place to unwind. I was too tired to go out and eat so I ordered room service. Rick warned me that room service was expensive here, but I knew for at least tonight it would be worth the expense. But it wasn’t that bad at all. I ordered a pizza – I know that’s a risk anywhere outside of NY – and a hamburger steak. The pizza was surprisingly good and the steak was basically a hamburger with a poached egg on top. That freaked me out a little but it didn’t stop me from eating the steak and the egg. They do something really unique here at the Sea Hawk Hotel. The price of the food on the room service menu is exactly what you pay. I ordered the “American Breakfast” the next morning listed at ¥3,200 and when it arrived my final bill was ¥3,200. There was no service charge, no automatic gratuity and no space for an “additional” gratuity. Pay as advertised -- interesting concept.

I am going to have a very difficult time adjusting to the no tip rules here in Japan. I am told it is insulting to any service employee if you offer them anything extra for a service that they are paid to provide. The irony, of course, is that so far I’ve noticed that while tipping is non-existent, the service is much better. It doesn’t take long to pick up on the sense of pride the Japanese put into their work regardless of their position. It’s refreshing.

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January 30th

We met our translators in the lobby at 8 a.m. and headed over to the Dome to meet our manager and teammates, get fitted for a team suit (I’ll explain later) and then hold a press conference. The manager of the Hawks is the legendary Sadaharu Oh, who is the career home run leader of Japan. I have been fortunate to play for some of the biggest names of my baseball generation such as Sparky Anderson, Bobby Cox and Joe Torre. Adding Mr. Oh to that list is truly an honor and I am eager to get to play under him for a season. Big names in baseball -- and in life -- carry a certain aura, and Mr. Oh is no different.

One of my biggest tasks this year may simply be getting to know my teammates. It was overwhelming that morning to see so many guys in the clubhouse, all wearing the same suit (later, I promise) and all with difficult names to pronounce. While we only carry 28 men on our major league roster during the season, the Hawks are starting spring training with 70 players in camp. That’s slightly larger than major-league teams. Now add in a few more executives and the coaching staff and that’s about 90 Japanese names I heard for the first time today. That’s asking a lot. I hope to get all the names and faces down as quickly as possible.

There was a brief team meeting in which the manager spoke, the new players were introduced and then the team captain addressed everyone. It was exciting to hear that anything less than a championship would be considered a disappointment. From what I understand, this team has a lot of talent. Apparently our starting rotation is outstanding. And with a well-respected manager in Mr. Oh, we should be a very competitive group.

Of all the players, coaches and executives in the room, I was the only one not wearing a tie. When I did my introduction to the team, I said I was excited to be here, that I was looking forward to learning the Japanese way of baseball from my new teammates and, lastly, I promised to wear a tie tomorrow. Using a translator is unique. There is something about making a joke and waiting unusually long to see if it translates. Fortunately for me, this joke worked. I’m sure others will fail, but I’m glad to get the first one under my belt.

The press conference was pretty standard except for the one unusual fact that only one reporter asked the questions. I was surprised how well attended the conference was. There were over a dozen photographers, 15-20 writers and eight television stations. It’s dawned on me that the Hawks are a big deal here and the fans really pour their heart into the team. That wasn’t always the case, but I’m told everything changed when Mr. Oh took over in 1995. They won the Japan Series championship in 1999 and 2003.

After the press conference we took a quick tour of our apartments. So far this has been the only disappointing part of my Japanese experience. I was told to expect small living spaces, and it’s safe to say I wasn’t lied to. The apartment is small, slightly dated and expensive. However, the team pays the bill, so I can’t complain. Another positive is that the apartment is less than two blocks from the international school my children will attend. That will certainly make life a little easier. Right now I would say living space and driving may be the two biggest challenges I will face here, which isn’t all that bad.

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January 31st

Today we flew to Miyazaki, the site of our spring training complex. With everything going on it feels like I haven’t touched a baseball in a week, so I have been eager to get on the field. The flight was only 45 minutes and it was on a commercial airline, which is standard for Japanese baseball teams. Major-leaguers are used to flying on chartered team flights, but this is really not a big deal to me. Actually, my first ever major-league flight in 1995 with the Reds was commercial. I thought it was cool because we had the entire back half of the plane to ourselves and they left the middle seats open. I remember Bret Boone shared a row with me and I was on Cloud Nine. Not necessarily because of him, but because it my first road trip in the majors. Of course I quickly learned commercial flights were sub standard in the majors and many guys complained about it. But this was the Cincinnati Reds during the Marge Schott era, and that’s just the way they did things.

Today’s flight did not have the majority of the team on it. It was only the four Americans and about 15 or so staff. The Japanese players were going to catch a later flight because they first went back to Fukuoka to pray for the season at the temple. (ADD HERE ABOUT SHINTUISM LATER)

Everybody on the team is staying at the same hotel for spring training, another difference from the major leagues. Back in the United States players have the option to stay at the team hotel or rent a house or condo of his choice. Not that we have it bad here in Japan -- far from it. The hotel we’re staying at is gorgeous. It’s the Sheraton Grande Ocean Resort in Miyazaki, and I have an unbelievable view of the Pacific Ocean from my 31st-floor window. There are many restaurants, shops and a spa on the hotel grounds, along with a Tom Watson golf course. We’re about a 20-minute cab ride from other shopping areas.

Most of my luggage was already in my room when I arrived. There also was a team suitcase and three bags of apparel from Mizuno. Nearly all of the paraphernalia had the team logo, so you can wear on it the field. And because it’s chilly here in Miyazaki, they provided us with some cold gear. Inside the suitcase and bags there were winter hats, gloves, neck warmers, underwear, socks, sweat suits, undershirts. You name it, and it was there. My uniforms also were included. They gave me four pairs of baseball pants, two white jerseys, two black jerseys and 12 outwear jackets. Yes, that’s no misprints – 12 different kinds of jackets. From heavy coats to fleece pullovers, from short-sleeve and long-sleeve pullovers to black and white jackets … I mean, it was just absolutely crazy. I know there is no way I will wear all of this stuff. And just about every piece of clothing was personalized with your number and sometimes your last name on the back.

I was not surprised to see they gave me my uniform. One of the things I heard about Japanese baseball before coming over here is that the players actually leave their hotel dressed in their uniforms, just like collegiate baseball. It’s typical for Americans to think of that as very amateur – in almost every level of pro ball in the states players get dressed in the clubhouse – but I really don’t think it’s a big deal. I’ll talk more about that later.

Once the team arrived at our spring training complex, we had another team meeting with Mr. Oh. This time he stressed that for us to be successful we have to play fundamentally sound baseball. That line rang a bell to me. I’ve heard similar meetings from Buck Showalter and Ron Gardenhire when I was in camp with the Rangers and Twins. Mr. Oh addressed every group of players, singling out the pitchers, hitters and catchers, and he had something specific to say to each group. One thing I found very interesting is that Mr. Oh insisted his pitchers must be able to consistently throw inside to hitters and we can’t be afraid to do so. That really encouraged me. Over the past couple of seasons I’ve become a big believer in pitching inside. When I was with the Braves in 2004, pitching coach Leo Mazzone preached down and away and he did not like when I threw left handed hitters in. He felt it was too risky, because if you missed over the plate you gave the hitter a good pitch to hit and a better chance to hit a homerun. While I do not believe there is one way to pitch, I have seen hitters getting better and better at driving the outside pitch the other way so I felt it was time to start throwing in more. Twenty years ago you did not see as many opposite field home runs as are hit today. Just ask any old-timer -- hitters today are stronger and smarter and have learned to hit with power the other way. Alex Rodriquez, Jim Thome and Mike Piazza are classic examples. These guys have a ton of power to the opposite field.

I had this very same conversation with pitching coach Orel Hershiser when I was in camp with the Rangers in 2003. He encouraged the pitching staff to have control of the outside part of the strike zone. But I contended that if I had a choice – I know, it’s easier said than done – I’d rather have great command of the inside part of the plate. If you could consistently throw a baseball on the edge of the strike zone, and you establish that, you essentially put the hitter on alert. By doing that, your pitches to the outer half of the plate don’t nearly have to be as accurate. You can afford to make a mistake because the hitter is not leaning over the plate. He knows he has to always be ready for the inside pitch.

I always talk to the great hitters I play with to get feedback on their hitting philosophy to help me formulate a pitching plan. I remember A-Rod once telling me, “If you don’t throw me in, if I don’t have to worry about your inside fastball, I will get you.” We were teammates for parts of three seasons in Texas and New York, and I saw his words put into action. But, surprisingly, my pitching inside philosophy was met with some resistance in the majors at times. When I was playing for the Yankees in 2004, I got off to a good start. But after Carlos Delgado hit a home run off me – he was the only lefthanded hitter to do so from 2004-05 – a coach told me Joe Torre wanted me to pitch away to lefthanded hitters. The pitch Delgado hit was a fastball in that I left over the plate. Delgado doesn’t miss mistakes very often and he was red hot at the time. No one says a word when you throw inside consistently and get guys out, but once you make a mistake and a hitter capitalizes, suddenly your game plan is wrong. Pitching failure almost always has nothing to do with the pitch selection and everything to do with pitch execution. The “wrong” pitch in the right location gets better results every time than the “right” pitch in the wrong location.

So you can understand how encouraged I was to hear Mr. Oh tell us that not only does he like to see his pitchers throw inside, but that he believes it is necessary to be successful here. I will go out trying my hardest to make that a part of my game here in Japan. If I can execute that consistently, I believe I will be successful. If not, I most likely won’t be.

After the team meeting we had a separate pitchers meeting with our pitching coach, Tadashi Sugimoto. This was a much more relaxed meeting; we were not in a suit for the first time in a team setting. Afterward Rick and I met privately with Sugimoto San. We went over when we wanted to throw off the mound and how much time we felt we each needed before we were ready to face hitters in live batting practice. They treat us foreign players very well here and give us the option of doing things our way as opposed to the Japanese way because they know it is what we are used to. There is a part of me that wants to just do things they way they do them in Japan, but I realize that may not be the best way for me to get ready for the season. The guys here throw more than we do in the States, and that would probably be a problem for me trying to keep up.

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February 1st

I’m excited camp finally begins today, but I can’t say that’s the reason I woke up at 4 this morning. Unfortunately I still haven’t full adjusted to the time change. It’s getting better, but I am still not all the way there yet. Just two days ago I fell asleep at 6 p.m. and woke up at midnight. I missed dinner, room service closed at midnight and, worst of all, I was awake for the rest of the night. We had to leave before the hotel started serving breakfast and I ended up going about 15 hours without eating. Nevertheless, I am slowly getting used to the time change.

My day began with a good laugh. The team hosts a breakfast buffet in the hotel in spring training and everyone attends the meals in casual clothing. This morning my American teammate, Adam Hyzdu, arrived wearing almost a full baseball uniform, which got a good laugh from the guys. We were teasing the 35-year-old about being an over-anxious rookie on day 1.

There are two buses that take the players to the spring training facility, which is about a 20-minute drive from the hotel. And get this: there’s a smoking bus and a non-smoking bus. I have never seen anything like that back in the states. I’m told about half of the players here are smokers, and many of them will even smoke during the games.

On our bus ride to the facility Rick, the other American pitcher, tried to converse with one of our new Japanese teammates. But it didn’t exactly go too well. He thought the person he was talking to was Munenori Kawasaki, our personable starting shortstop, so he kept calling him Kawasaki. But the player actually was Hirsohi Shibahara, who is a 10-year veteran of the Hawks. As soon as he said Kawasaki the first time, I knew he had it wrong but there was no going back. Shibahara, looking slightly irritated, only said “Kawasaki” and then pointed to the back of the bus. We hadn’t even gotten to the field yet and the first day of camp already provided quality entertainment, at least in my eyes.

When we arrived at the park, there were many fans lining our walkway to the ballpark. Most of them seemed to be teenaged girls and they screamed as their favorite players came off the bus. Their reaction reminded me of old footage of the reaction the Beatles and Elvis received back in the 1960s. The girls got really giggly, jumping up and down.

The first day of camp went pretty smooth. Mr. Oh addressed the team briefly before we started and he encouraged the team to get to know the foreign players. He also told them to brush up on their English, even though I feel it is more my responsibility to learn some Japanese. Still, I appreciated what he said. Throughout my career I have always tried to get to know my teammates, and I plan to do the same here. It may just take a little longer.

We also heard a speech today from Pacific League umpires. They told us they plan to call more strikes away from the hitters. And to help us adjust they’re going to stand behind the catchers during our bullpen sessions and call balls and strikes. They’re even going to pretend it’s for real, calling out at the top of their lungs, “Steee-rike!” I would think that might be slightly distracting. For starters, I don’t expect to have great control in my first bullpen session – it has been more than week since I’ve been on a mound because of all of the travel and I don’t have good control to begin with. And now the last thing I want is to be throwing my first bullpen session in Japan and have everyone wondering why the umpire is staying so quiet. I’m not sure if you can be ejected from a bullpen session, but if my umpire doesn’t open that zone the way I like, we may have some words!

The first day of camp ended relatively quiet. I’ll get into the daily schedule of a Japanese baseball player later in camp. It’s certainly a different program than I’m used to, and I think it’s very reflective of the Japanese culture. Tomorrow, by the way, is my first bullpen session and I am very much looking forward to getting on the mound.

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February 2nd

You always want to give your new team a good first impression with your first bullpen session, but today I really wanted my new pitching coach, Sugimoto San, to walk away feeling confident he had a player who could help his staff. Throwing a bullpen session can be hard sometimes because so many eyes are watching you. It’s so easy to wonder what the manager or catcher thought of a pitch. But if you allow yourself to entertain those thoughts, you’re not completely focusing on your pitches. Your mind should only be thinking about one thing. I’ve heard that called ‘deference’ in sports psychology.

For the most part I don’t think I’ve fallen victim to this. I reached the conclusion long ago that I only can control what I can control – I know, a groundbreaking thought. But today I found myself seeking approval from my bullpen session. I don’t think it’s possible to not think at least a little about impressing your new boss with what you are capable of doing.

Physically I felt strong today, so I took the mound knowing I’d have good velocity. The mystery, as is usually the case with me, was whether I would be able to throw strikes on a consistent basis. The mound was softer than I’m used to, a slight adjustment but nothing overwhelming. I threw about 45 pitches during my session and I’d give myself a C-plus. I wish I threw more strikes. I tried to ignore the umpires as much as possible, but it was not that easy. If it were a game, I may have had some words with my home plate “shinpan” (aka umpire). I have been told the umpires in Japan are more tolerant with criticism than their counterparts in the States. Much like a child figuring out the limits to his parents’ patience, I’ll have to gingerly go about determining where the line is drawn in the sand.

Once my bullpen session was over, I raked the mound and replace the dirt I removed. This is a job for the grounds crew back in the States, but here every pitcher does it, no matter who you are. Sugimoto San and the bullpen coach Takayama San complimented me on my session by saying, “Good job.” It was a polite gesture and I appreciate that they’re trying to make me feel comfortable. I was later told Sugimoto San is very hard on pitchers and that he was very pleased with my command. I was surprised to hear he was satisfied with my first session. I just kept thinking that I will be even better next time.

During a small press conference after my bullpen session the one reporter who speaks pretty good English told me Sugimoto San said I should be a starter. He asked for my reaction, and I said I am willing to do whatever Mr. Oh wants from me and whatever I could to help the team win. I also said I was not here for myself, but for the team. Of course it was easy for me to say all of that having already been told that the rotation here is very good and there is a need for a late-inning left-handed reliever. Sure I’d love the challenge of being a starter again, but I’m not sure these old bones are ready to handle it.

One of our interpreters later told me the stories in there were positive stories in the newspapers about my bullpen session. I have to say, it’s a trip to see your picture in Japanese newspapers surrounded by Japanese writing. Definitely scrap book material.

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