Niihama, Japan – December 4, 2031

Yoritoki ‘Yori’ Ando threw up his hands and loosened his tie as the fourth and final interviewee of the day left the “Office of the Pitching Czar”. The newly added lettering was a unique adornment on the executive level of the Niihama-shi Ghosts Front Office, which Yori did not admit, embarrassed him a bit. Dean O’Monahan, however, seemed to revel rather than recoil in the uniqueness – and the title for that matter.

“Well let’s hear it, sir,” Yori exhaled, “This one is too short? Perhaps his suit was too light for the weather?”

The czar, despite being the chronically somber of the pair of nascent appointees to the Niihama organizational pitching program, smiled wryly at his new friend. “Too blonde,” he noted, without looking up from his notes.

“He’s Japanese…” Ando replied in confusion.

O’Monahan efficiently replaced the interviewee’s resume into a pristine plastic sleeve in his Ghosts green binder. The iridescence of the protective sheeting caught his eye as he neatly turned the other pages back into place, closed the binder, and tucked it neatly into its spot in his spartan desk’s only drawer. “I know I’m being particular, Yori, but I’m looking for something very particular. We’re hiring a rookie ball coach, right? What’s the first thing we want to teach a pitcher at that age?” Dean looked at his lieutenant with genuine curiosity as to how he was going to answer.

After assuring himself that the question was not rhetorical, Yori sat back and considered the question. He furrowed his brow and gripped his knees while he considered. After a moment, he replied, “When I first began to pitch professionally, the focus was strictly control. I was required to locate every pitch perfectly before I could move on. I was so focused on control that I forgot how to pitch. The game inside the game was lost to me and I nearly did not recover. I floundered regularly because I was overly focused on making sure my placement was perfect. I forgot how to outmaneuver my opponent.” Ando briefly looked up to be sure the PEBA great, the man dubbed Fate, wasn’t laughing at his response. O’Monahan, however, was seemingly enraptured.

Yori continued, “So, if it were up to me, I would want to make sure every young pitcher we get knows that he’s a pitcher first. That he needs to trust his stuff to miss bats. If they can’t do that, then we can wash them out, but if they can, we can always work on mechanics and control later.”

“So our man should be teaching our youngest prospects how to miss bats, not avoid hits and walks?” O’Monahan asked. Ando reconsidered, then looked back to his boss with confidence, “Yes.”

“I knew I hired you for a reason, Yori,” O’Monahan smiled a rare and genuine smile. “Now, think, there has to be someone from your time in the LRS that fits the profile – a merciless, cunning pitcher. A guy whose sole goal was never about winning, but about beating every single batter he faced in the most complete way possible: by striking his ass out.”

Yori reclined deliberately and considered the question deeply. “We’ve interviewed everyone that remotely fits that description that I ever pitched with.” He adjusted his posture once more, leaning over his widely spaced knees and staring at the floor. After a moment, he spoke again, “Back when I was in Winter Ball, half a dozen coaches were trying to get me to learn a cutter. Mine was lifeless and futile. Coach after coach tried new tricks, but all it was doing was making me unlearn all my good habits. I was regressing, until one night, after most of the coaches had given up, one of them stopped by and dropped off some footage of other LRS pitchers. He tapped one in particular and said something like, ‘Watch this f*****r. He’s a maniac. All he does is gas every pitch he has in his arsenal. The other coaches don’t like showing his film because it’s like all he cares about are strikeouts. He’ll give up three homers in a row because his faith in his stuff is unflinching. He’s been accused of choosing his pitches at random, but the man was a shark. His cutter wasn’t the prettiest, but he threw it down the pipe knowing it would make a guy miss. You need to learn from this guy.'”

“What was his name?! He sounds perfect,” O’Monahan flung open his laptop as he awaited the name.

“That was 20 years ago and I think he just pitched the one year for the Ghosts… It would have beena few years prior to 2016. Check the register? Japanese,” Ando offered.

Dean flipped through to 2012:

“Hosokawa? No? Hah, isn’t Ortega managing with us?” O’Monahan looked up at Ando and saw him shrug. “Noda? Kojima?”

“Noda! It’s Noda for sure,” Yori affirmed.