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The Meaning of Ichiro

By Dr. John D. Eigenauer
June 2, 2006

From the opening quote of the first chapter of Robert Whiting’s The Meaning of Ichiro, you’re hooked. By the time you get to the bottom of the first page, where Ichiro’s mother complains that half a month’s wages are spent on a baseball glove for a child and his father replies, “It’s not a toy. It’s a tool that will teach him the value of things,” you have chills running down your spine.

Ichiro! Ichiro was more than just the first Japanese position player to make it in the Major Leagues, he was also the Rookie of the Year and MVP in 2001. Photo by Lou Sauritch, ©2006 Super70s.com

This one, you think, is going to be good. Indeed, the first chapter, “The Education of Ichiro” is nothing short of compelling. The flawlessly told, compact, and elegant story of Ichiro’s devotion to mastery of the game of baseball leaves you wanting more.

And more you get. Moving from Ichiro’s extraordinary self control and resulting success (seven straight batting titles in Japan), Whiting describes with an insider’s eye the remarkable cultural transformation that Ichiro caused. Japan and America, he argues, came together over Ichiro, each in its own way—Japan basking in the long awaited dominance of one of her own over American athletes, and America embracing a new way of playing the game that we all sensed was born of more than mere talent.

In between, we get a history lesson in Japanese baseball that no fan should miss. I won’t spoil the fun of reading the details, but I will say that every one provides a delightful surprise. From the missionaries who introduced baseball to Japan, to Babe Ruth’s 1934 tour, to Masanori Murakami and Hideo Nomo, Whiting makes you wish that there were a giant History of Japanese Baseball that you could turn to as soon as you finished his book. Until then, the chapter on Alfonso Soriano, Hideo Nomo, Hideki Irabu and labor relations between Japanese and American clubs will serve as a wonderful introduction.

The book turns in the seventh chapter from the fluid narrative that connected Ichiro’s relentless training with a long history of Japanese baseball emphasizing rigor and discipline, to a series of stories about Americans in Japanese professional baseball. The stories are somewhat disconnected, but they are well written and entertaining, and they serve to emphasize Japanese culture’s prominent position in their national pastime. The chapter on Bobby Valentine, which could easily be longer, demonstrates this nicely. While these are good stories, the book’s message shifts from explaining how Japanese players are transforming American baseball to a description of Japan’s stubborn resistance to American baseball strategy and methods.

The book loses some steam by the ninth chapter when the author relates briefly the stories of six Japanese players who played Major League baseball. Unlike the previous stories, these are flat, listing each player’s height, weight, physique, and basic statistics along with the stories of how they left Japan, what their motivation was, and how they fared in America. But the book picks right back up with a nice chapter on Hideki Matsui. Emphasizing Matsui’s grace and deep respect for Japan and Japanese baseball, the chapter bookends nicely with the one on the flashy, yet equally disciplined Ichiro.

Whiting’s book is a fitting follow-up to his wonderful You Gotta Have Wa. He knows Japanese culture, he knows Japanese baseball, and he is a terrific writer who writes with enthusiasm and balance. I found the book to be touching, entertaining, and informative; it is well worth any baseball fan’s time.

John Eigenauer can be contacted at jeigenauer@yahoo.com. A complete list of his reviews and more about him can be found here.