Nishioka’s Classy Move

Over in the world of sports, the baseball season is down to its last handful of games before the first round of playoffs start this weekend. Plenty of tension and excitement swirling around ballparks at the moment, but perhaps the most notable baseball event last week was not a game, but an off-the-field story, so unusual that it left fans both impressed and puzzled.

 

In perhaps the classiest act of the year, Minnesota Twins infielder Tsuyoshi Nishioka waived his right to his entire three million dollar salary for the 2013 season (along with a $250,000 buyout), asking for release from his contract instead. But it’s not like this was some clever strategy to negotiate a better contract or to seek a more lucrative offer elsewhere. No, Nishioka was simply refusing to be paid for what he deemed was his own unsatisfactory performance. Think about it; this guy basically refused to take three million dollars that was his, opting instead for honor, self respect, and peace of mind. Screw all the rest of the overpaid, selfish players in the league; even without a hit all season, Nishioka is the player of the year.

 

Here’s the story in a nutshell: Nishioka was signed to a three-year, $9.25 million contract before the 2011 season, after the Twins had bid $5.3 million to his Japanese team for negotiating rights. Once his stint with the Twins started, however, things quickly turned sour. Nishioka broke his left leg just five games into the season when a New York Yankees player slid into him, trying to prevent a double play. But when Nishioka returned from the injury two months later, he never got into a groove and finished the season with a lowly .226 average, only five extra-base hits, along with 12 errors. This was a sharp contrast to his stellar career in Japan, where he was a five-time all-star and a three-time Gold Glove winner. In fact, the year before he signed with the Twins he had the highest batting average in the league.

 

So obviously, Nishioka was a big disappointment during his time playing baseball in the US. Some fans even used the word disaster. Nishioka spent most of this year in the minor leagues, and during his short (less than one week) call-up to the big league club Minnesota in August he went hitless and made more mistakes on the field. So, rather than extending this reign of embarrassment, Nishioka decided it was time to walk away. In a statement to the press, this is what Nishioka had to say:

“I would like to thank the Twins organization for helping me fulfill my dream of playing in Major League Baseball,” Nishioka said. “I take full responsibility for my performance which was below my own expectations. At this time, I have made the decision that it is time to part ways. I have no regrets and know that only through struggle can a person grow stronger. I appreciate all the support the team and the fans in Minnesota and Rochester have shown me.”

 While his performance on the field was far below expectations, Nishioka consistently showed class during his time with the Twins. In various interviews he was always unfailingly polite and promised to try and improve his play in order to help his team. It’s just a shame that he couldn’t play better and make a more positive contribution to the team. Unselfish players with good attitudes like Nishioka seem to be a rare thing in sports nowadays. It’s damn refreshing to see a player take responsibility for his own lack of performance and not offer weak excuses or blame others. The transition to a new league, and to a new country and a new culture, all while communicating in a new language, could not have been easy for Nishioka, yet he never stopped trying. Most likely he’ll return to play in Japan next year. But no matter where he continues his career, I’m rooting for him to succeed. Tsuyoshi Nishioka is the epitome of class.

 

Jack Reacher, Chipper Jones, and Margeaux Mango

I got an e-mail last week from Lee Child’s website, informing me that the new novel was coming out; another Jack Reacher spectacular. Say no more; I gotta have it. Gotta read it. Now. And luckily, my sense of urgency was satisfied. I strolled over to the Emporium, went to the tiny branch of Asia Books located there, and the new Lee Child book, A Wanted Man, was right there on the shelf. Less than 48 hours later, I had read all 400 and something pages, satisfied again by another fun, funny, and thought provoking Jack Reacher adventure. Really, I love these novels. On the surface, they might fit the mold of action-packed thrillers; lots of action and bad guys getting put in their place by Reacher. But there is a lot more going on in these novels than Jack Reacher kicking ass, drinking lots of coffee, getting the girl, and leaving town with only a toothbrush in his pocket. These stories force the reader to think, and marvel at the way that Reacher thinks through various situations, as he ends up dispensing his own style of justice. And this time around I loved the baseball references; from the Kansas City Royals and George Brett to the New York Yankees and the legendary Bill “Moose” Skowron. If Lee Child is not a baseball fan — and I wonder if he really is, having grown up in England — he’s certainly done his research.

 

Speaking of baseball, another thing that brought a big smile to my face this week was seeing the Sunday night walk-off homer by Chipper Jones of the Atlanta Braves. I don’t have a TV, and if I did I wouldn’t even have access to cable sports, but I watched a clip of Chipper’s home run on ESPN’s website. Now 40 years-old and playing a final season before retirement, Chipper is having also one of his best seasons ever. He takes a day or two off each week nowadays, needing to rest those surgically repaired knees, so his stats may not rank with his best, but when he’s in the lineup he still makes an impact. He’s virtually carried the Braves all year. So why isn’t he in the running for another MVP award this year? The Braves look like they are going to make the playoffs, probably as a wild card finalist, and there is no way they’d be in that position without Chipper. Maybe he doesn’t have enough “official” at bats to qualify for the leader boards, but I’ll say it again; when he’s playing, he delivers. Seeing the highlight reel of that home run on Sunday night was a totally feel-good moment, one of those things that remind me of why I love the sport so much. I only saw Chipper play one time before I moved to Thailand in the mid-1990s, and that was when he was playing for the Braves in 1991 … the Macon Braves, that is (At that time the Macon Braves were the Class A farm team of the major league squad). Somewhere in a dusty closet back in Florida, sitting in a neglected box of crap, are photos I took of Chipper back when he was playing for Macon. Not only has he been a Hall of Fame caliber player, Chipper Jones has always been one of the game’s class acts — a rarity in today’s world of overpaid, spoiled athletes. Here’s hoping that the Braves do in fact make the playoffs, Chipper remains healthy, and he shines during his final moment in the sun.

 

And speaking of shining, and to complete today’s triple play, my friend Margeaux, who goes by the nickname of Mango, flew in from Spain yesterday. She was only in Bangkok for two days, but it was enough time to get together and meet for a fine dinner, this time at Cabbages and Condoms, the touristy but tasty Thai Restaurant on Sukhumvit Soi 12. Great food and great company; I was smiling like I’d just seen another Chippper Jones home run when I left the restaurant. Mango is works as an interpreter at conventions and meetings around the world, particularly in Asia. She is flying to South Korea tomorrow for a week-long event, and next month she’ll be working an even longer seminar in India. In between work, she is trying to finish writing a raw food cookbook. Busy lady! Too bad she won’t be around next month when our mutual friends Janet Brown and Ma Thanegi will also be in Bangkok.

 

The Long Ball

One of the books I found in Kuala Lumpur last month was a paperback copy of The Long Ball by Tom Adelman. Hailed by Newsday as “one of the best baseball books ever,” this one chronicles the 1975 baseball season, highlighting the two teams that ended up playing in the World Series that year, the Boston Red Sox and the Cincinnati Reds. While that series, often cited as the greatest ever played, was indeed thrilling, the 1975 season was also memorable for being the last one before the advent of free agency. Many people still lament the end of that era, but there is no denying that in those days the players were more colorful and spirited, and seemed to care about the game more, even though they weren’t earning the outrageous salaries that today’s players command.

 

I’ve read many great books on baseball, including classics by writers such David Halberstam, Roger Kahn, and Roger Angell. Something about the complex and compelling sport of baseball just lends itself well to literature. Another great recent read was The Soul of Baseball by Joe Posnanski, which was about Buck O’Neill and the Negro League era of baseball. When you are done reading this book, you wish you had been lucky enough to meet the gregarious Mr. O’Neill. He was quite a character.

 

I would also add The Long Ball to the list of the best baseball books I’ve ever read. This is a thrilling and often hilarious account of the 1975 season, highlighted by memorable characters such as Casey Stengel, Luis Tiant, Sparky Anderson, Carlton Fisk, Fred Lynn, Johnny Bench, Carl Yastrzemski, Bernie Carbo, Rawley Eastwick, Tony Perez, Catfish Hunter, Pete Rose, Pedro Borbon, Claudell Washington, John Candelaria Don Zimmer, and many more.

 

Many of the book’s funniest moments revolve around Red Sox pitcher Bill “Spaceman” Lee, truly one of the sports most outrageous and fascinating characters, and the master of the “eephus” pitch. Lee was always quick with a quote, ones that often had more to do with politics or the environment rather than baseball. Asked before the start of a game if he thought it would rain, Lee replied: “Yep, otherwise we’ll have a dry planet.”  On another occasion, trying to create a diversion so his teammates would not be criticized after a loss, Lee heaved a trash can across the locker room and launched into a tirade: “Boston is a horseshit city! A racist city with horseshit fans and horseshit writers. This place doesn’t deserve us.” Predictably, he was deluged with hate mail afterwards, one of the letters coming from Dapper O’Neil, a city councilman who was the leader of an anti-busing movement (Lee spoke publicly in favor of school busing). The councilman’s letter, however, was riddled with typos and misplaced punctuation marks. Lee wrote back: “Dear Mr. O’Neil, I think you should know that some moron has stolen your stationery and is writing me letters on it.” Ah yes, that don’t make baseball players like that anymore, and the game is all the poorer for it.

 

While describing the events of 1975, Adelman see-saws back and forth between teams and players, interjecting vignettes that seem out of place at first until you see the genius behind it all: a teenage Rickey Henderson trying to decide between playing football or baseball; Stanley, the Oakland clubhouse boy who was the conduit to A’s owner Charlie Finley, and a decade later became the music sensation known as MC Hammer; a superstitious six-year-old boy named Ken Griffey Jr. who rooted for his father to get the game-winning hit; veteran pitchers Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally and their fight to break the owner’s stranglehold on player contracts. The grand result is a most amazing book that perfectly captures a moment in time and brings back tons of memories. Read it and grin.