9: April, 2020

On the eve of the start of the season, the Shisa hold their annual banquet. The purpose of this fête is to introduce new players, remember past players, honor outstanding performances of the previous season, and to give the owner a venue to speak about his views on the state of the game in general, and his team in particular. All of the club executives are in attendance as well as executives from the Seigyoki Kabushiki Gaisha corporate offices. It’s a company affair. The twenty-five players on the active roster coming out of spring training also attend, wearing matching blue blazers with the team emblem on the left breast pocket, and blue and red striped ties. The same clothes they are required to wear when traveling to a game.

Sitting next to me on my right is Goro Asari, one of the general manager’s special assistants. While most of the special assistants are former players, Asari is what you might call a company man. He came over to the baseball club from the Seigyoki Corp main offices. Word is that they didn’t know what to do with him there, and that he had a bad habit of speaking his mind at inopportune times. Our American GM doesn’t seem to care about such things though, and Asari’s position is more than just “old executive welfare”. Asari, who played outfield in highschool and has closely followed the game throughout his life, is regularly asked to give his input into the business operations side of the organization and is kept fairly busy.

 On my left is my “date” for the evening, a female cousin visiting from Tokorozawa named Suzuko. She is enjoying her last spring break before the beginning of her first term of her last year of high school. I’ve hardly seen her during the visit. She spends most of her time either at the beach or seeing the sights, most of which I haven’t seen myself yet. By her own admission, she only follows baseball casually, and only started pulling for the Shisa after I took a position there, but she is very interested in some of the players nonetheless. She points out to me our new pitcher, Hisashi Kokan (who insists on calling himself ‘The Grim Reaper’ and wearing sunglasses indoors) and his date, some jeipoppu starlet whom I’ve never heard of.

 During the dinner, there is a performance by a local eisa troop. Amidst all the drumming and call-and-response, I steal a few glances at the players’ tables. The new gaijin spend much of the time with their heads bowed as they listen to their interpreters/cultural guides explain to them what’s going on around them throughout the evening. The new center fielder, Morales, seems interested in taking it all in and is deep conversation with his interpreter. Our designated hitter acquisition, Hough, on the other hand, wears what I would call the classic gaijin “what have I gotten myself into” look on his face.

I’m told that it takes a particular sort of gaijin player to succeed in the LRS. Needless to say, those that are adaptable to life in the Japanese league, as well as daily living in Japan, tend to be the happiest playing here, but it goes beyond that. Many players who come over, like Hough, are older PEBA veterans, perhaps in the twilight of their careers. And they tend to have families. Most often the wife and children stay home in the states while the player lives alone in Japan during the season. Sometimes the family visits in the summer when the children are out of school, sometimes not. Being a wealthy professional athlete living here alone presents men with certain temptations just as it would anywhere else. This arrangement can put a strain on a marriage, and the move to Japan has created its fair share of “baseball widows” and broken marriages. Japanese teams often try to interview a player’s wife during the vetting process, because it’s often she who will shoulder the heaviest emotional load when her husband relocates to Japan. Some wives are game to make the move to Japan and Okinawa has many choices of schools for English speakers, which helps.

 The highlight of the evening is the presentation of the 2019 Saiyu-shu-senshu award to Shisa third baseman Rod Young. He hit very well last year (.324/.398/.610) and was an offensive force for Naha, especially in the post-season. He speaks briefly of his appreciation to the club for bringing him over, thanks his family (who are in attendance) for their support, and pledges the same level of effort in the coming year, which would be advisable considering the massive team option on him for 2021. The rest of his speach was all the usual baseball platitudes and cliches.

 “Not good,” remarks Asari.

 Confused, I ask him what he means by that.

 “It was too easy. You can see on his face that he is satisfied, content. Back when Japanese teams had no farm systems to speak of, many players who enjoyed early success grew complacent. They knew there was no one waiting to take their place. They inevitably regressed. Naha has no position prospects to speak of even with the expansion of the minor league system. No pressure. Young will regress.”

 The end of the evening is reserved for the old man himself, who addresses us via satellite. Iyou Seigyoki speaks to us about the recent off-season turmoil that will result in the demise of the LRS as an independent league. He talks about the future of world baseball. He talks about the future of Japanese baseball. He talks about the future of the Shisa. He talks. And talks. When he’s certain there are no recording devices in a room, and the usual security measures have seen to that, this normally taciturn and private man gets downright loquacious. A form I signed prior to entering the banquet hall prevents me from documenting any real details of the speech.