The Mariners leave Tokyo with a 5-4 extra inning win to sweep the A's in their season opening series. Perhaps even more significantly, the game also marked Ichiro Suzuki's retirement as a player.
While I have always admired Ichiro for his extraordinary skills as a player and for the dedication, focus and respect he brings to the game, I have never been a big fan. Certainly not as taken with him as many are, as you could see in the constant outpouring of affection heaped on him by the fans in Japan today. But it was impossible not to be touched by the emotions seen on the faces of his teammates as he left the field. The sight of Yusei Kikuchi, crying on the night of his major league debut was moving.
The year Ichiro came to the US was the same we had a mini-season ticket package for the Ms. We sat in Section 108, straightaway right. After years of watching and interacting with affable Jay Buhner, Ichiro's focused style seemed distant, almost aloof. He was constantly stretching, bending, adjusting something on his cap or uniform. He seemed to be preparing for something before each pitch. His batting ritual never changed, right though his last at-bat tonight. He would settle in, stare, I mean really stare, out at the pitcher, adjust his feet and hips, then lift his right arm to point his bat, slightly upwards, but toward the stands, while his left hand would reach around to his extended shoulder to release any binding from his uniform sleeve.
Methodical preparstion. And, you know whst? It worked. I know it occurred, but I cannot recall ever seeing Ichiro make s fielding error. And until only recently had I ever seen him called out on strikes. He was a baseball phenomenon of a sort never experiencef before in my lifetime and perhsps unlikely to be seen again.
Truth be told, as his playing time had wound down, I've actually worried about him. Where does sll that focus and intensity go? I wish him well.
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