Pro Yakyuu Spirits 2011 Isolated

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Hideki Irabu, center, spent little time with his Armada teammates. “To get to know him as a teammate or friend was nearly impossible,” a player said. CreditHajime NishimuraIt was the kind of inquiry that curious pitchers make, even ones with World Series rings. How, wanted to know, do you throw a changeup?Jerry Spradlin, his pitching coach on the in the spring of 2009, was all too happy to show him. A former journeyman major league reliever, he was a newcomer to coaching and was eager to share some of what he knew, even something as basic as a changeup with a pitcher once called the Nolan Ryan of Japan.The lesson was impromptu and informal, typical of the way things were done on the Armada, an independent league team that served as a halfway house for older players making last-ditch comebacks and younger players still hoping to make it as professionals.

With the help of an interpreter, Spradlin showed the grip to Irabu, who threw about 10 warm-up pitches in the bullpen before his start that day.Even though he was 40 and a former Yankee, Irabu was an attentive student. He was also a quick study.

He struck out the side in order during the first inning using his new pitch to put away the batters. Garry Templeton, the team’s manager, felt otherwise. He told Irabu where the money had come from, and without hesitation, Irabu told him it should be spent on food and beer for the team.

The clubhouse attendant was dispatched to a store for provisions.“We had a party on him,” Templeton said., was found hanging in his house in Rancho Palos Verdes, Calif., an upscale Los Angeles suburb. At some level, all suicides are mysteries. Irabu apparently left no note, but he had his troubles.

He was known to drink heavily at times. His wife and two children had moved out weeks before. His two noodle restaurants had closed, and he was casting about for something else to do.“When I saw him last summer, he told me he was having a midlife crisis,” said George Rose, who befriended Irabu when he worked for two years as his interpreter on the.

Rose then repeated what had been a kind of conventional wisdom about the Irabu: he had a big heart, but could be his own worst enemy.Irabu, for sure, had seemed to battle demons throughout his meteoric rise and fall. 1 draft pick in Japan, he was best known for his record-setting fastball, and his temper off the field. Even during his best years in the mid-1990s, he had a love-hate relationship with the news media, which needled him by writing about his mixed heritage, a taboo in Japan. He called some Japanese reporters locusts. He was eager to play in the United States, but he bucked the baseball establishment by refusing to be traded to the San Diego Padres, despite their generous contract offer.Instead, he held out until the Yankees could sign him, and he received a hero’s welcome in New York. He twice was named the American League pitcher of the month, but he faded late in seasons.

His moodiness, injuries and weight problems led a fat toad, a stinging tag that he could not shake.He returned to Japan in 2003 and helped the Hanshin Tigers win the Central League pennant for the first time in nearly two decades, a redemption of sorts. But the next year, the injuries piled up and he retired after pitching in three games. AdvertisementBut like many things Irabu did, his time on the Armada came with conditions. He was with the team only on days when he pitched, and he went to those games with a personal assistant and an interpreter. Because of his limited English, his teammates had little sense of Irabu as a person.Some of the players, chiefly those who had never had a whiff of the major leagues, were in awe of Irabu nonetheless. But they could also be irked that Irabu kept his distance.“To get to know him as a teammate or friend was nearly impossible,” said, a starting pitcher that year who now works as a scout with the Padres. “He didn’t come off as a prima donna.

There was no sense that he was better than anyone. It was a strict business transaction.

He would show up, pitch and leave.”A Toss Leads to a QuestIrabu’s road back to baseball began with a bit of serendipity. In 2007, a Japanese television crew visited Irabu in California to see how he was faring nearly three years into his retirement. They visited his restaurants, followed him as he rode his three-wheel motorbike and filmed him on a sandlot field in Torrance, obligingly tossing a ball in jeans and flip flops.Irabu had not pitched in several years, but he seemed genuinely pleased that his knee did not hurt and that his arm felt good. The pitching session was brief, but it planted a seed in Irabu’s mind that he might just have a shot at returning to baseball, according to Don Nomura, his longtime agent.“He just picked up a ball and fired the hell out of it,” Nomura said by phone from Japan.Nomura did not give it much thought, but a year or so later, Irabu started working out with two other players., who was Irabu’s teammate in Japan, traveled to Los Angeles to seek guidance from his sempai, or elder, on how to revive his career. They recruited Hajime Nishimura, who had played on a Japanese industrial league team and moved to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career, to be a personal catcher.

He now is a youth baseball coach.While training with Iyono at the M.L.B. Urban Youth Academy in Compton, a gritty part of Los Angeles, Irabu began to take his conditioning more seriously. Tentative at first, he gained confidence when his knee showed no signs of faltering. So in early 2009, with Iyono having left, Irabu picked up the pace. Each weekday, he took two half-hour whirlpool baths in the morning. Nishimura would arrive at 10 a.m. To work on fielding and pitching for two hours.

Then they would go for a vegetable-heavy lunch before Irabu returned to the academy to take another bath.The regimen helped Irabu shed more than 40 pounds, buoying his spirits.“At first, I wondered if he could do it,” Nishimura said. “But he was very serious about baseball. He loved the game and didn’t think about how old he was. As long as he could play, he wanted to play.”.

AdvertisementWith the season approaching, Nomura discussed the options with Irabu. It would be hard to find a major league club in the United States that would sign an aging pitcher who had not played in years. But with his mix of pitches, big-league savvy and brand name, Nomura thought that Irabu could become a useful reliever in Japan.The easiest shot at reaching that goal would be for Irabu to showcase his talents in an independent league, where the barriers for entry were lower and teams and fans were used to seeing aging stars give it one last go. Irabu received a standing ovation as he left his Yankee Stadium debut in the sixth inning on July 10, 1997. CreditBarton Silverman/The New York TimesThe was the best fit.

Each team had a handful of former major leaguers. The league also had links to Japan, including the Samurai Bears, a traveling team that had been stocked with Japanese players and managed by, a former major leaguer who played for the Yomiuri Giants. Always on the lookout for budding talent regardless of the potential guffaws, the league recruited, a Japanese teenager known as the Knuckle Princess for her signature pitch.

She pitched last season in Maui, Hawaii.The league also had teams in Orange County and Long Beach, which would allow Irabu to live at home during his comeback. So in April, Nomura’s Los Angeles-based assistant, Toshi Hoshino, set up a tryout with Templeton.

The session went well.“He wasn’t throwing 98 anymore, but he had the experience and the other pitches,” said Kevin Outcalt, the commissioner of the league, which also owned the Armada. “You don’t often get a player of his caliber.”. A Pop-In PitcherOutcalt was so impressed that he agreed to a contract that allowed Irabu to show up only on days when he pitched at home games. It would force Templeton to find an extra starter when the team was on the road, and knock other pitchers one game back in the rotation when they returned home.Still, Outcalt thought that the concessions were worth it because Irabu, he hoped, would be a big draw, especially with Japanese fans in the Los Angeles area. That could help the struggling club. It was a standard formula: mix hungry young players with a sprinkling of recognizable former major leaguers, add theatrics and keep prices affordable.In fact, Rickey Henderson spent a season in the league and Jose Canseco had played on the Armada, which used, an aging stadium in Long Beach.

Irabu’s teammates were paid depending on their experience, with some of the highest salaries hitting about $1,500 a month. Many players had not been drafted out of college and needed a place to play until they could be noticed by a major league organization. That meant playing in front of small crowds in places like Chico, Calif., and Yuma, Ariz.Despite their grumbling, no players were openly hostile to Irabu. His teammates recall that Irabu would show up an hour or so before his scheduled starts and disappear from the clubhouse before the last out. Some players spotted him between innings smoking cigarettes in the shower. When he was on the bench, few players had more than passing conversations with him, even though Nishimura was there to interpret.

AdvertisementSean Buller, a pitcher on the team who became the pitching coach halfway through the season, said no one on the team directly challenged Irabu and his seeming diffidence. Everyone, he said, had their own hopes, and did not want them damaged by possibly causing dissension.Despite the enigmatic attitude, Buller said of Irabu, “I feel bad because we never got close.”Good-Natured NeedlingThe only teammate who felt compelled to communicate with Irabu was Jose Lima, a former all-star pitcher on the Los Angeles Dodgers who was also attempting a comeback. In many ways, he was Irabu’s polar opposite: funny, lively, involved and generous. He would sing the national anthem before his starts, take teammates to Dodgers games, serenade them with his guitar and chart their pitches on his days off.He was perhaps the only person with enough stature to needle Irabu, and he did not miss the chance. About an hour before the Armada were to play the Scorpions in Yuma, Irabu had still not shown up. (Irabu pitched twice on the road because the parks were within driving distance of his home.) Photo. Flowers and a silent tribute after Irabu's suicide in July.

Pro Yakyuu Spirits 2011 Isolated Movie

CreditJeff Gross/Getty ImagesTypically, the manager or coach would give that night’s starting pitcher the ball to be used to start the game. It was a bit of ceremony, but Irabu was nowhere to be seen that night. So Lima took the ball, put it in a clear plastic baggie, taped it to the clubhouse wall and wrote, Irabu #?, on the tape.Irabu chuckled when he showed up, then he threw five innings, gave up four runs and struck out six to earn the win.Another time, someone left a sign at Irabu’s locker that had a picture of two Japanese businessmen laughing with the words, ROR: Raugh out Roud. Some said Irabu got the joke.The club tried to make the most of Irabu’s occasional, mercurial presence. Josh Feldman, who organized on-field entertainment at home games, invited some Japanese drummers to perform as part of an Irabu Mania night. At another game, performers from a local martial arts academy broke boards, including some that they had set on fire. AdvertisementIn Japan, One Last ChanceBy early August, Irabu had compiled a respectable but not overwhelming record given the competition.

In 10 starts, he was 5-3 with a 3.58 earned run average and 66 strikeouts in 65 1/3 innings. Like his time in the major leagues, Irabu had some games in which he was unhittable, and other games when his control eluded him. Still, after several years away from organized baseball, he was happy to be back in uniform and on the field.“He was having a good time and enjoyed playing baseball again,” said Hoshino, who videotaped his starts from behind home plate. “He was really excited to take the next step.”That next step came partly as a result of Japanese reporters who had come to see Irabu pitch in Long Beach. He received an offer to pitch for the Fighting Dogs in Kochi, on the island of, a backwater by Japanese baseball standards.Independent leagues are relatively new in Japan, where high schools, colleges and industrial leagues provide most of the young talent for the top teams. Even so, Irabu’s reputation in Japan was still strong, so he stood a better chance of catching the attention of a Japanese big-league club by playing in Kochi than if he remained in California.It was a brief stay. His first start went as well as could be expected.

In seven innings, he gave up three runs, walking five and striking out three. About three times the usual crowd showed up for the game, and replica Irabu jerseys and shirts were on sale. His second start was a step back. Irabu lasted five innings and gave up five runs. Afterward, an inflamed right thumb effectively ended his season and, it turned out, his professional baseball career and his time in the public’s eye.With baseball now a fading memory, Irabu returned to Los Angeles, where he looked for things to do. Coaching was one option, but without a strong command of English, he had a hard time finding work.

He appeared occasionally at clinics and talked of getting into movies someday. But none of it amounted to much.Earlier this year, his wife and two children moved out of their home. They had become acculturated to American life, leaving him more isolated, friends said.And he never picked up a baseball for the Armada again.“He was kind of searching for what to do next,” said George Rose, his old interpreter, “and he never did.”.