| February 25th
Today we flew back to Fukuoka, which meant all of us had to wear our official team suits. I can’t imagine how players back home would react if a major-league team told them they had to wear the same jacket and pants. It’s especially weird because they give us a white shirt and a tie, but they don’t require us to wear them. Ruins the whole idea of a team suit, especially considering the fashion trends of some Japanese players here. While I admit I am way out of the loop when it comes to fashion, I am fairly certain a blue pinstriped shirt does not go well with a gray-pant, black-jacket suit. I also don’t think you can wear brown shoes with that color scheme. Yet I have seen teammates try both. Safe to say I don’t think they pulled it off. Now what I do like about the team suit is that it takes away having to think about getting dressing up, which I like. And after 12 years of wearing uniforms to Catholic schools, I am used to everyone looking the same.
Unlike every major-league team, we don’t travel on charter flights. Instead, we fly commercial just like the rest of the world (I know, woe is me). But this did make for quite a scene in the airport today. The fans were so raucous as we walked through the terminal that you would have thought John, Paul, George and Ringo were on our team. Shortstop Muneori Kawasaki got the biggest reaction. Mune is a free-spirited single man and the female fans are really drawn to him. He really had to battle to get to the security line.
I have really been looking forward to getting to Fukuoka and finally live in my own apartment. I got a glimpse of my place when I first arrived last month, and my first impression wasn’t good. So I was anxious to get inside and take a closer look. Too bad just simply getting inside my apartment turned out to be an adventure on its own.
I was pretty sure I remembered which building was mine. I found an elevator, took it to the sixth floor, but when I exited I was surprised to find only one apartment, No. 605. My place is No. 602. Not knowing where I went wrong, I took the elevator back down to the first floor and looked around. Eventually I concluded I was in the right building, so there was only logical thing to do: go back up the elevator to the sixth floor and try again.
As I rode up the elevator I told myself it was pretty dark around the apartments, so maybe I just the hallway. When I got off, this time I actually did find another apartment, but this was No. 604, not 602. Understandable, I was at a complete loss. Once again, I took the elevator back down to the first floor, wondering where I could have gone wrong.
Alas, after searching all the nooks and crannies of the lobby I found a corner that I originally had thought was a dead end. It turns out there actually was another elevator in that corner area, and this one brought me right to my apartment: lucky no. 602.
I was pleasantly surprised when I walked into my place. It was better than I recalled. It’s still not great, but definitely better than the image I had stuck in my mind. My biggest disappointment is that there was no bidet in my place, just a regular toilet. I was scared of the bidet at first, but I came to love it back in Miyazaki. And we’ll just leave it at that.
Now to the last adventure of my first day in my new home: driving to the Yahoo! Dome. I admit I have been a little fearful of driving in Japan, where they drive on the left side of the road, so I was anxious to get my first trip over and done with. Our rental cars were already in the parking lot waiting for us, and I got what is called a Toyota Ractis. The team pays for the car, which is a nice perk. But this car is tiny. That could be good because the parking spots here are tight and the roads are much more narrow than what I am used to.
Fortunately the ride to the Dome was short, but it was still a challenge. I must have turned my wiper blades instead of my blinker about 10 times in five minutes. Everything is reverse here. The speed limits here are low and the drivers seem to be courteous. But if I don’t pay close attention to my driving, I could end up on the wrong side of the road.
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February 26th
We had a well-timed day off today to unpack and settle into my new place. But a simple trip to the supermarket with my American teammates turned into a chore. I anticipated some differences in the shopping experience, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was wrong.
After walking around the store for 10 minutes I crossed paths with Adam, and he was definitely reading my mind when he described grocery shopping in Japan as “a grind.”
Let’s put it this way: 80 percent of the Japanese grocery store is useless to me. Most of the time I don’t even know what I am looking at. What I do know is that never in my life have I ever seen small dried-up fish in a clear plastic bag. Not before today, that is.
The cereal aisle in Japan is almost non-existent. There were a handful of cereals, no more than 10 it seemed. All of them are of the healthy variety, not the sugar-based brands. So you could say my kids are in for a treat. I thought I would find comfort in the milk aisle. No problems here, right? Milk is milk. I was sure I could find the 2-percent milk on my own.
How naïve of me...
I was so lost that I had to make a videophone call to one of the team translators. I slowly panned my phone across the milk aisle and asked him to let me know what kind of milk I was looking at. Here’s basically what the translator said: “That is whole milk. That also is whole milk… whole milk… whole milk… That is yogurt.” Yogurt? Huh? In a quart-size milk carton? Indeed it was. Talk about cultural differences.
Finally, with the help of the translator, I found the two-percent milk, which surprisingly was one of the least available. The story only had about 8-quart-sized cartons in stock.
Another aspect of the supermarket experience that was odd was the shopping carts, which were not practical at all. Let’s just say the cart that my 6-year-old daughter plays with at home is a better option. I told my wife about that. She didn’t believe me. How can I best describe this to you? Picture an empty shell on wheels, then add a hand-held cart on top, like the one you use when you are only getting a few groceries. As you can imagine, this kind of cart really limits your ability to shop for a lot of groceries at one time. A friend of mine told me it’s common for people in Japan to go grocery shop almost on a daily basis, which explains why the carts are so small. I guess there’s just no need for big ones. No one here is loading a week’s worth of groceries in the car. That means there is no yelling at your kids (and husband) to come out of the house and help bring the groceries in.
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February 27th
I have heard a lot of talk over the years about how difficult the workload for pitchers is in Japan. But so far I have been happy with our daily routine. What’s been most pleasing is that pitchers don’t have to shag. Hold on Austin Powers fans -- not that kind of shagging. Shagging in baseball terms (only in American baseball terms, apparently) is retrieving and returning baseballs during batting practice. I used to love to shag. I would pretend I was a big-league outfielder, just like when I was a kid. But the fun wore off. In recent years I usually spent batting practice wondering, “How long until this is finished?”
Another perk to our days is that we get determine what we do for the first 20 minutes. Rick and I walk in the outfield, jog a little, stretch and play catch. The only downside to this pre-game ritual is that we have a lot of free time before the game actually starts.
Free time is not my strength. I have trouble sitting still and not talking. And when you only have three other Americans and three translators who speak your language, you run out of people to talk to and things to say. So I have to find other ways to occupy my time.
We played our first exhibition today and I was scheduled to pitch two innings. We beat the Seibu Lions, 2-0, and my two innings went pretty well: no runs, one hit, no walks and one strikeout. I kept the ball off the barrel of the bat, which to me indicates a good outing.
Now I’m not going to pitch again for two more days. If I thought I was bored before, I have a long two days in front of me. You can only do so much baseball stuff in one day.
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March 2nd
I have really taken a liking to the Japanese culture, but the language has been an absolute battle. I have gotten to know a few members of the media here and we have exchanged e-mails, which has been tough. I’ve found that I pick up Japanese words better by researching them and writing them. I end up repeating a lot of the same words in my e-mails, so they are easier to retain. My Japanese grammar is terrible (Watashi no nihingo bunpo wa hidoi.), but it is getting better. My Japanese e-mail friends are mostly females, but that is just coincidence.
Here’s a random observation about Japanese women: so many of them wear mini-skirts and long black leather boots, which I think most men find intriguing. A lot of them also wear high heels, which can’t be comfortable all day long. I’ve noticed women looking quite uncomfortable walking in these high heels, and they just seem to refuse to give up on them. I guess there’s something to be said for sticking to what you believe in.
Today I pitched in another exhibition game. I was scheduled to only pitch the eighth, which I was happy about, but my pitching coach told me to be ready in seventh just in case they needed me. So I was stretched and ready to go in the seventh, and sure enough the phone rang. One of the translators told me Mr. Oh wanted to know if I could be ready in two hitters. I would have rather just been told to get ready in two hitters. Anyway, I put it in high gear and was about five pitches away from being ready when the phone rang again. This time I was told to stop throwing because they didn’t need me. Soon my pitching coach comes into the bullpen laughing. This was all a joke to see how I would handle it. Very funny.
I pitched the eighth and it went so-so. The first hitter battled me for nine pitches and eventually chopped a ball so high off the turf that by the time it came down he was already safe. The next hitter hit a lazy fly off the end of the bat that somehow dropped on front of the rightfielder, who was playing way to deep. Now I had to deal with two runners on, and no one had even hit the ball hard yet. I just love when innings start like this.
I struck the next guy out, then the Eagles pulled off a double steal. Our catcher made a good throw, but the third baseman dropped the ball as he applied the tag. The runner was probably going to be safe but Matsuda (the third baseman) looked pretty disappointed in himself. I have watched this guy a lot; he is very intense and very self-critical.
I drilled the next guy, unintentionally, loading the bases. Even still, I felt confident I could get out of this jam and hold our 2-1 lead. But two pitches later I was called for a balk and I was furious. The umpire (shinpan) said I did not stop. The tying run came in. I was so mad I admit I mumbled something under my breath that I haven’t said in years.
The next hitter flew out for a sacrifice fly, but the inning ended when the runner on second got caught between second and third. What a frustrating inning. I didn’t walk a hitter and no one hit the ball on the barrel. But I hit a guy and was called for a balk, and in the end left with a blown save and a loss. So discouraging.
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March 3rd
Sugimoto San spoke with me today and reiterated that everyone is confident my pitching is more than good enough to succeed for Japan, but they remain concerned that the way I hold runners will lead to too many balks. If this continues they may be reluctant to use me in close games. I understand that I have some work to do.
My back was pretty tight today. It has been nagging me for the past 10 days. I pretty much only feel it when I pitch. I thought it might have been the bed in Miyazaki. The bed in my apartment is much firmer, which I like, but I am still experiencing back tightness.
On what may be a related note, my velocity has been down about 3-to-5 mph for this time of year. I am hoping it is only because of my back. I asked the trainer for some ibuprofen (Aleve or Advil), but then he asked me if I wanted Voltaren, which is a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug. I said yes and quickly gave him a hug.
Every team is different when it comes to giving out meds. Some are liberal. Others are more conservative. It was good to know I can get a powerful anti-inflammatory without the third degree. I hope it knocks out my back pain, which has been getting on my nerves.
My family is scheduled to fly in tomorrow night, but they experienced problems right from the start of their trip. My wife called from the airport in Atlanta to tell me that the United officials were not letting them board the plane because they only have one-way tickets. They claimed that Japan mandates that passengers must have round-trip tickets to enter the country. But I flew about a month ago with the same one-way ticket and the same visa and had zero problems. They were giving my wife such a difficult time that I could tell she was close to tears. She was already exhausted from staying up all night trying to beat the jet lag. Plus she was there with our two children (ages 7 and 5) and our nine suitcases. It was a mess.
I called Shin, the scout who signed me. He told me United had it wrong and that he would do what he could from there to help. But it was 9 p.m. on a Saturday in Japan, so I knew it was going to be difficult to reach the people that we needed to talk to. Of course we heard mixed signals from everyone, as is usually the case with airline problems. ANA, the airline that we booked our tickets through, told Shin that my wife and kids did not need a return ticket to enter. But the gate agent in Atlanta was insistent that they did.
Shin, who was very apologetic, told me we should just buy Megan and my kids return tickets and they would reimburse me because he did not want them to miss their flight. So I relayed that to Megan, but of course the Atlanta ticket agent would not let her buy a ticket at the counter. Fortunately her plane was delayed an hour, buying us extra time. I called United and purchased my family three tickets for $5,600. So in the end they were on their original first-class flight, which the Hawks purchased for around $25,000.
The tickets I bought over the phone are completely refundable, which makes me wonder about the government’s logic. So theoretically as soon as my family touches down in Fukuoka I can call United and get my $5,600 back, and my family no longer has round-trip tickets. That makes absolutely no sense. What’s even better is that the tickets that I bought over the phone are from Tokyo to Los Angeles, when my family is flying to Fukuoka from Atlanta. So it’s really not a round-trip ticket, just a round-trip ticket to and from the United States. That, to me, is about as a ridiculous as it gets.
I am just relieved my family is on board and that their first flight was delayed by an hour. It has been a long 35 days since I have seen them. I need them here, badly.
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