As I prepared for another season, I got word that the Tokyo Giants were interested in signing me. Now, when someone says “interested,” that can mean a lot of things. But when they told me the number they were offering? My eyes got as big as bowling balls. Suddenly, I wasn’t just preparing for spring training, I was negotiating internationally.
The Baltimore Orioles had me under contract. The Japanese offered a buyout that was even big
ger than the salary number they were floating for me. The Orioles took the buyout. All of it.
What can you do? Business is business. I packed my bags.
The Guam Scramble
In the rush to finalize a bigger contract, I had to get my paperwork handled in what felt like 17 minutes. Because of the tight window, my wife Denise had to fly to Guam from Tokyo (yes, Guam) with an interpreter to secure working papers. Meanwhile, I had to strategically carve out time off to fly there myself from Miyazaki and make sure everything was squared away.
Nothing says “big league move” like coordinating international flights, legal documents, and translators while trying to stay in baseball shape. We had to fly my family out, figure out pediatrician logistics for Gabrielle so she could sleep through the chaos, and relocate our entire lives to the other side of the world. No big deal! In typical Gabrielle fashion, her medication from the pediatrician had the reverse effect. She didn’t sleep at all. Awesome.
From Utility Guy to Rockstar
When I landed at Tokyo airport, I thought I’d quietly grab my bags and find a cab. Instead? Mass media. Cameras. Microphones. Flashbulbs. I had gone from a simple utility U.S. player to a rockstar in Japan overnight. Every move was documented. On the field, off the field, getting a haircut, walking down the street, breathing. I half expected a reporter to pop out of a locker and ask how I planned to attack inside fastballs that day.
Welcome to Baseball Boot Camp
It was an honor to play for Nagashima-San. He was patient with my late arrival and welcoming from the start. But Japanese baseball? Different animal. At the time, Japan was ahead of the U.S. in spring training structure in terms of stretching, mobility, and dynamic preparation. Everything was intentional.
The workouts weren’t necessarily tougher than the U.S., but they were longer and more demanding. In Japan, the day didn’t end when you left the field. There were mandatory massages and hot baths. I mean… if you’re going to overwork me, at least include a spa package!
Hall of Famer Willie Stargell once said, “Umpires don’t say work ball, they say play ball.” As inspiring as that sounds… we worked ball in Japan.
The schedule went:
● 7 days on, 1 off
● 6 days on, 1 off
● 5 days on, 1 off
Then repeat. By the third cycle, I wasn’t sure what day it was— just that I was stretching.
Meanwhile… My Family
While I was grinding through spring training, Denise, my daughter, and my mother-in-law were in Tokyo trying to set up our apartment. For the first time in our lives, we felt truly out of place. We weren’t just living in a new country. We were faced with a language we didn’t speak and an unfamiliar culture.
Our interpreter wasn’t as thorough as we had hoped, and Denise ran into something we weren’t prepared for: furniture stores wouldn’t take orders from her because she was a woman. Imagine trying to furnish your home and being told, “We’ll wait for your husband.” I’m taking batting practice, worrying about breaking balls… and she’s fighting 1950.
It was stressful. On the field and off. When communication isn’t smooth and English isn’t the primary language, you constantly wonder: Is my family okay? Are they taken care of?
It was one of the more stressful stretches of our marriage. Baseball pressure is one thing. Family pressure hits differently.
A Different Style of Baseball
Japanese baseball required adjustment. My personal style had always been instinctive. I needed repetition. I needed room to fail, to tinker, to find rhythm. That culture? Not big on developmental failure at the foreign import position. If you struggled early, patience was thin.
I had a slower start in spring training, and tension built quickly. Performance pressure followed me into the season. Every at-bat felt like it came with a camera crew and a performance review.
The Autograph Incident
As a kid, I’d always heard about Sadahiro. One of the most prolific home run hitters in baseball history. Now, he was managing a rival team. When I finally found myself in his presence, the inner baseball fan in me took over. I asked for his autograph. Come to find out… that was extremely disrespectful to my manager.
In their eyes, I had basically announced: “Hey Skip, you’re great… But this guy? He’s the real legend.”
Sorry, Nagashima-San! But chicks dig the long ball. Can’t imagine that helped my slow start.
Perspective
Looking back, I’m not surprised at all that Japanese talent now goes head-to-head with U.S. talent in events like the World Baseball Classic. The preparation is relentless, the discipline is real, and the structure is elite. They don’t just play ball, they work ball.
And after living it, I have nothing but respect for it. Even if it nearly stretched me into another tax bracket of soreness.
