Seattle's Ichiro Suzuki makes it big in the majors; Mariners star right fielder continued to impress in his second season in the show - Hitting Machine

Baseball Digest, Nov, 2002 by Bob Finnigan

WHEN ICHIRO STEPS INTO THE BATTER'S box, no one--the pitcher, the shortstop, the fans, even his teammates--has any idea what he is planning.

"It's kind of funny," said Mariners teammate Edgar Martinez, a man with an eye for fine hitting. "We still don't know what Ichiro is going to do when he's at the plate. But this time, it's a different kind of not knowing."

At the start of the 2001 season, there was worry, with the wondering, about the new Mariner coming to another level of the game.

On Opening Day last April, 242 hits later, followed by postseason performance in which he collected 16 hits in 38 at-bats (.421), it was no longer a matter of "if" Ichiro will hit, but when, where, how and how far.

The last may be the matter of most conjecture. Some point to Ichiro's first and second years in Japan when he showed he could hit (.385 in 1994 when he won the MVP) and hammer (25 homers in 1995).

He may be the Madonna of baseball, reinventing himself periodically to keep people guessing.

Mariners manager Lou Piniella said he thinks on the low side of Ichiro's longball abilities, suggesting 8-12 homers, "and that's plenty." But the common guesstimate is for at least twice the eight he hit in 2001.

"He was pulling the ball a lot more last spring," an American League scout said. "He knows the pitchers now, and they don't know him much better than they did last year. He just missed a number of pitches last year, and he wasn't missing them this year.

"I watch him as close as possible and I wind up like everyone else. I'm curious to seeing what he does. I only wish he did it for my team."

Even Piniella noted, "Ichi's more confident. He went through the wars last year, and I don't think he has any doubts now. He knows he's good. Of course, he might not have had any doubts last year. But you still have to go out and do it, and he did it.

"There's a big difference from knowing you're good but you haven't done it. He knows now he belongs."

Ichiro was as comfortable last spring as confident, so much so that he frequently stopped to sign autographs, where last year he was a tough sign. He spoke with the press easily and often, in quickly improving English, and as much as anything, he was quicker to beam his broad smile.

But while Piniella meant Ichiro "belongs" in the U.S. game, it could be said that he simply belongs among those who have honored baseball and are honored in return.

It is not merely a matter of being linked his first season with immortals such as Ty Cobb, Rogers Hornsby and George Sisler, but of the respect Ichiro shows the game by dedicating so much of himself to preparation and excellence.

Many days during spring training, he was one of the last to leave the Mariners' training complex, having worked out long after the games were over.

In this, he apparently is the same as he has always been.

"I think he was more focused than other Japanese players in his years there," said Shigetoshi Hasegawa, his friend and once again teammate.

"When he first came to us at Orix, he reminded me of a kid playing Nintendo games. You speak to them and they don't listen. With Ichiro, you'd say something to him while he was in the batting cage, and it was as if he didn't hear you. We realized soon he was that focused. We learned not to bother."

Hasegawa said last spring that Ichiro would not try for increased home run production this year.

"He is capable of it, no question," Hasegawa said. "But this is where his intelligence comes in. He knows the situation on this club. We have plenty of power hitters, but no one can hit like Ichiro. I suspect he'll continue to produce runs by getting on base, creating scoring situations."

Hasegawa also spoke of his personal feelings of Ichiro's spectacular 2001 season, noting how proud he was.

"I knew him and was a friend, but I would have been very proud of him if I was not, if he was a stranger to me," Hasegawa said. "I couldn't say those things last year, when he was an enemy. Now, we are together again and I am most happy."

Facing Ichiro, as Hasegawa no longer has to, teams are still probing for a weakness.

Early in the 2002 season, the White Sox pitched Ichiro inside the first time, away the second and with slop the third, and he hit them hard. Another club pitched him in, played the defense as if they were pitching him out, and he tripled to the wall in center.

But it was a game last spring that epitomized what Ichiro can do.

With the bases loaded and two outs, he worked the pitcher to a full count, then fouled off three pitches away.

"I can do that intentionally," Ichiro said. "They were borderline. And I was trying to get the pitcher to make a mistake."

The pitcher tried to come inside, which Ichiro wanted, and the result was a line single to right for two runs.

Later in the same game, he came up with a runner on third and one out, and an N.L. scout sitting in the stands said, "This is amazing. You look at this situation and you realize unless they get lucky, there is just no way they can keep (Ichiro) from getting this run home."