all this, ESPN reporter and noted wit Jim Caple was moved to remark, “This is what it would have been like if Princess
Di had played baseball.”
As the season wore on, Ichiro proved impossible to intimidate. Opposing pitchers who tried to knock him back with high, inside
pitches found his bat so quick he could snake their offerings down the line. Knock him down and he’d get right back up and
stand that much closer to the plate. Send him to first with a pitch in the ribs and he’d promptly steal second, maybe even
third for good measure. He was, in the words of fellow outfielder Mike Cameron, “one feisty little sucker.”
The longer schedule (162 games in 180 days in the MLB in 2001 as opposed to 140 games in 199 for the NPB) and a much heavier
travel load than he had ever experienced in geographically compact Japan also proved to be less of a problem than many had
predicted. Indeed, the only pitch that proved effective against Ichiro was an unexpected curve thrown by a long-legged 20-year-old
Japanese exchange student—a young lady whom Ichiro had reportedly met at a hostess club for expatriate Japanese in San Francisco.
After a game in Oakland one night, as the story went, Ichiro had invited her to his hotel room at the Westin for a romantic
encounter. He was unaware, when the young lady arrived, that the cell phone in her handbag was turned on and connected to
a number that would record their subsequent activities.
A transcript of the recording subsequently appeared in the pages of
Friday
and caused a huge scandal. Among other things, it had Ichiro saying, “I’d like to tie you up with the bathrobe sash. The
thought of it really turns me on.” Some readers compared its contents to the infamous Charles and Camilla tapes.
The embarrassment of it all plunged Ichiro into an 0-21 slump, his batting average plummeting from the .347 mark he had taken
into the All-Star classic all the way down to .325 and prompted a flurry of wisecracks in the Japanese media. Typical was
that of a
Shukan Post
journalist who wrote, “Ichiro might have great bat control, but this is one time he forgot to exercise it.”
Reportedly, Ichiro’s wife did not speak to him for a long time after that, while Ichiro and relief ace Kazuhiro Sasaki, who
had joined Seattle a year earlier from the Yokohama BayStars, launched a brief boycott of the Japanese press for hounding
them in such a manner.
Operation Tapegate proved to be only a temporary setback, however. In time, Ichiro regained his old stroke and by the end
of the season he was leading the American League in a multitude of categories. He won the batting title, hitting .350, and
led the league in hits with 242 (59 of the infield variety). The latter was an American League rookie record, as well as a
Seattle Mariners team record and was the highest total anyone had seen in 71 years. He also led the AL in runs scored (127)
and stolen bases (56), as Seattle finished with 116 victories, which broke the American League record for total wins heretofore
held by the New York Yankees, with 114 in 1998. Ichiro had helped the Mariners achieve victory in the AL Division Series (collecting
12 hits) before losing out to New York in the AL Championship Series in five games. He was chosen the American League’s Most
Valuable Player as well as its Rookie of the Year (only the second man in history to earn both honors in one season) and won
a Gold Glove. All in all he broke 13 MLB, AL or franchise records and his former critics now were saying that he had the ability
to become the first man in over 60 years to hit .400.
Rob Dibble, true to his word, ran through Manhattan wearing nothing but a G-string.
American Hero
Americans liked Ichiro because, for one thing, he was a throwback to another time. He had reintroduced them to a style of
offense that many MLB fans, accustomed to andro-induced sluggers and tape-measure home runs, had forgotten—an
Di had played baseball.”
As the season wore on, Ichiro proved impossible to intimidate. Opposing pitchers who tried to knock him back with high, inside
pitches found his bat so quick he could snake their offerings down the line. Knock him down and he’d get right back up and
stand that much closer to the plate. Send him to first with a pitch in the ribs and he’d promptly steal second, maybe even
third for good measure. He was, in the words of fellow outfielder Mike Cameron, “one feisty little sucker.”
The longer schedule (162 games in 180 days in the MLB in 2001 as opposed to 140 games in 199 for the NPB) and a much heavier
travel load than he had ever experienced in geographically compact Japan also proved to be less of a problem than many had
predicted. Indeed, the only pitch that proved effective against Ichiro was an unexpected curve thrown by a long-legged 20-year-old
Japanese exchange student—a young lady whom Ichiro had reportedly met at a hostess club for expatriate Japanese in San Francisco.
After a game in Oakland one night, as the story went, Ichiro had invited her to his hotel room at the Westin for a romantic
encounter. He was unaware, when the young lady arrived, that the cell phone in her handbag was turned on and connected to
a number that would record their subsequent activities.
A transcript of the recording subsequently appeared in the pages of
Friday
and caused a huge scandal. Among other things, it had Ichiro saying, “I’d like to tie you up with the bathrobe sash. The
thought of it really turns me on.” Some readers compared its contents to the infamous Charles and Camilla tapes.
The embarrassment of it all plunged Ichiro into an 0-21 slump, his batting average plummeting from the .347 mark he had taken
into the All-Star classic all the way down to .325 and prompted a flurry of wisecracks in the Japanese media. Typical was
that of a
Shukan Post
journalist who wrote, “Ichiro might have great bat control, but this is one time he forgot to exercise it.”
Reportedly, Ichiro’s wife did not speak to him for a long time after that, while Ichiro and relief ace Kazuhiro Sasaki, who
had joined Seattle a year earlier from the Yokohama BayStars, launched a brief boycott of the Japanese press for hounding
them in such a manner.
Operation Tapegate proved to be only a temporary setback, however. In time, Ichiro regained his old stroke and by the end
of the season he was leading the American League in a multitude of categories. He won the batting title, hitting .350, and
led the league in hits with 242 (59 of the infield variety). The latter was an American League rookie record, as well as a
Seattle Mariners team record and was the highest total anyone had seen in 71 years. He also led the AL in runs scored (127)
and stolen bases (56), as Seattle finished with 116 victories, which broke the American League record for total wins heretofore
held by the New York Yankees, with 114 in 1998. Ichiro had helped the Mariners achieve victory in the AL Division Series (collecting
12 hits) before losing out to New York in the AL Championship Series in five games. He was chosen the American League’s Most
Valuable Player as well as its Rookie of the Year (only the second man in history to earn both honors in one season) and won
a Gold Glove. All in all he broke 13 MLB, AL or franchise records and his former critics now were saying that he had the ability
to become the first man in over 60 years to hit .400.
Rob Dibble, true to his word, ran through Manhattan wearing nothing but a G-string.
American Hero
Americans liked Ichiro because, for one thing, he was a throwback to another time. He had reintroduced them to a style of
offense that many MLB fans, accustomed to andro-induced sluggers and tape-measure home runs, had forgotten—an
Similar Books
