May 11^th, 2016 –7:07 p.m.

It has been months since the Featherheads stunned us at the Winter Meetings.  With a flurry of moves, the team totally transformed itself into a complete different entity through four trades.  Without a doubt, the most heart-wrenching one was that sent Tsumemasa Morimoto to the Maulers.

After the trade occurred, Featherheads.com assigned me to write a Morimoto article.  Originally, I planned to quickly whip up a summary of the details of the trade day.  I missed my deadline by several days… which, in turn, became a week, and now many months later.  For a man of Morimoto’s stature, how do you quickly whip up an article?  It is impossible to cover Morimoto’s accolades and significance to the Florida franchise within one article.  As you see, I never did write an article.  It has been five months and I am still without words.  Where do I go from here?  Do I keep straight to the facts?  Do I write an editorial that attempts to analyze Morimoto’s importance to the franchise or his place in history?

After many months of deliberation, I have decided to write from a fan’s perspective, strictly from the heart rather than as a paid columnist.  Morimoto has provided Jacksonville PEBA fans many fond memories.  It is only fitting to return the favor by providing a fan’s viewpoint.

To Jacksonville fans, Morimoto was an unlikely hero.  When he joined the Featherheads in 2007, he was only a 20-year-old kid in a foreign land.  Nobody knew who he was.  The PEBA itself was about to start its inaugural season.  Florida featured a young, budding superstar in Mark “Ice Cold” Richardson, who was drafted fifth overall in the inaugural draft.  Richardson was the centerpiece of the team.  It would take several seasons for Morimoto to prove he was the cornerstone of the Featherheads.

By 2009, Morimoto had demonstrated that he was the perfect sidekick to Ice Cold.  Both players were already multi-time All-Stars.  Their super-heroic efforts led Florida to its first non-losing season, but this came at a heavy cost.  Towards the end of the season, fans shattered in horror when they observed their beloved Richardson go down with a fractured cheekbone.  Little did they know this was the last time anyone would see Richardson in a Florida uniform.

In the off-season, Florida agreed to send Richardson to Aurora in a blockbuster move.  All of the momentum built during the previous season was lost.  As a fan and employee of the organization, I was sick to my stomach.  It felt so unfair.  The Featherheads were on the verge of something special, but like a house of cards, it all came crashing down.  To add more salt to the wound, fans had to see Richardson go to one of the Evil Empires.  It was like the Baseball Gods wanted to send a message that the little guys could never win.  No matter how hard you try, you will always be eaten up by the big boys.

2010 marked a new era for Florida and Tsumemasa Morimoto.  With Richardson off to the Colorado snow, the team nominated Morimoto as their new captain.  The then-23-year-old became the new face of the franchise.  A former sidekick, Morimoto was thrust into action as the team’s leader and face.  Known for his scruffy beard, Morimoto entered the season with renewed determination.  He shed his beard and took on all responsibilities.  Shaving his beard was like a rite of passage.  Though young, Morimoto recognized the situation and his immense responsibility.  This awareness elevated Morimoto to new heights.  In the darkest of times, Morimoto provided Florida with the brightest light.  All it took was just a small spark of confidence and faith.  Without a doubt, Morimoto was terrified by his new role, but through his fears, his courage shined through.  True courage is not having an absence of fear but rather the ability to cope with one’s fears and push forth.  No superhero, Morimoto was simply a mortal forced to deliver heroic actions.  This rite of passage made Morimoto relatable not only to baseball fans but to people of all different walks of life.

The end of the season marked the beginning of Morimoto’s Florida legacy.  With the team on his back, Morimoto led the Featherheads to a new set of firsts – first winning season, division title, and playoff series win.  He set new career highs in virtually every offensive category, including home runs, batting average, RBI, walks, and OPS.

The following season, Morimoto etched his name in Florida lore.  With his baby face, Morimoto carried the Tribe to a franchise high of 111 wins.  The slugger reached the 50 home run plateau for a second consecutive season.  His personal achievements garnered him a Royal Raker and All-Leather Award.  A true legend, however, is marked not by what he gains but by what he gives, and Morimoto delivered the greatest gift to this baseball town: a championship.

Fast-forward six years to 2016.  2010 is nothing but a distant memory.  The Morimoto era has ended.  After nine seasons, Morimoto’s tenure with Florida is history.  As a fan, I will not shed a tear.  While the loss of Richardson turned my stomach into knots, Morimoto’s departure left a smile on my face.  The greatness of any era is defined by the lingering memories that it carries.  While certain events are forgettable, there are some rare events that we never forget.  I still remember my first time my father took me to a baseball game.  I recollect the smile on his face.  I remember because it was a special moment to me.  Similarly, I will always remember Morimoto’s time with Florida because it was special to me.  That is why I won’t mourn.  It is true that you can’t go back in time to relive a lost, beautiful moment, but it is also true that you cannot handcraft a mundane moment into a special one.  For that, I will smile.  I smile at the fact that I was able to observe such a special moment unravel right in front of me.

Despite his heroic status, Morimoto is not a man without flaws.  In 2012, the organization suspended Morimoto for five games after his spat with local radio personality Nelly.  In 2014, Morimoto missed a month after tearing ankle ligaments as a result of a botched motorcycle stunt (which the team refuses to acknowledge).  Morimoto has also been criticized for only bringing one championship to the Sunshine State.  Detractors question his “feast-or-famine” approach at the plate.  Cynics accuse Morimoto of losing his fire after reaching the top of the mountain.  These flaws and criticisms make Morimoto more than a hero; they makes him human.  They make him real.  They make him one of us.

While Richardson’s legacy with Florida remains debatable, there is no doubt about Morimoto’s.  He brought home Florida’s first championship.  More importantly, he did what Richardson could not – he provided the Featherheads with an identity.  What makes the Morimoto’s story truly great is that it will live forever, to be told from one baseball generation to the next.  Generations from now, it will become a legend, but this generation has the privilege of knowing the backstory.  The best part of this story is that it truly happened, and I was fortunate to be there to see it.