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Suzuki On Threshold of Greatness

There he stood in glorious Safeco Field with the game’s greatest superstars — all 69 inches and 160 pounds of him. On Tuesday night, Ichiro Suzuki, who has been Major League Baseball’s bobble-head doll this year, took his place in center field alongside sluggers Juan Gonzalez and Manny Ramirez. This was his home ballpark. These were his fans. Those were his cheers. The eyes of two continents were fixed on him. At least for tonight, on his immaculate stage, Suzuki was truly the man — but isn’t that what the mid-summer classic is for?

On a night like this, when the planets seemed to have aligned themselves perfectly, Suzuki made a statement. It was a statement of greatness. Of course, he did not say it, nor did he flaunt the fact, as a rookie, he is having an M.V.P. year on baseball’s best team. But when he stood with the game’s elite, Suzuki became the newest member of this exclusive fraternity. And it welcomed him with open arms.

Undoubtedly, Suzuki’s historic appearance in the 72nd All-Star game will be gift-wrapped and shipped first-class to Cooperstown, where the moment will be forever memorialized. Does this moment compare to Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier? No. Does this moment compare to Lou Gehrig’s teary-eyed farewell speech at Yankee Stadium? No. What about Cal Ripken’s farewell performance on the same night? Probably not. But Suzuki’s moment does fit a great man. A legend in the making? Yes. A potential Hall-of-Famer? Yes. Could greatness be forever attached to his name? Yes.

Though only at the halfway point of the season, Suzuki’s bat has been like a court jester’s laugh to opposing pitchers, rapping out 134 hits for a .347 average, second in the American League. No matter how many scouting reports they read, pitchers are still left to scratch their heads. During spring training, to hone his swing for the regular season, all Suzuki did was coyly slap opposite field hits like Otis Nixon, making pitchers think he can’t pull the ball and is vulnerable to tight heat. There hasn’t been a bigger mistake since Tampa Bay was awarded a major league franchise. Throw an inside fastball, pitchers are scurrying to back up third base.

Suzuki connects on an infield hit to lead off for the American League in the first inning of the 72nd All-Star game on Tuesday, July 10, at Safeco Field in Seattle. Photo by AP.

That’s exactly what happened in Suzuki’s first All-Star game at-bat against former Mariner Randy Johnson; needless to say, the lefty can throw some smoke. Johnson tried to sneak an inside fastball by Suzuki, but he turned on it like a poked mongoose and screamed a bullet down the first base line. First baseman Todd Helton lunged to save the sure triple, but Suzuki — who has been clocked at an unheard of 3.8 seconds to first base — beat Johnson to the bag by a full step. It was just another scrappy hit for Suzuki. But this time, it was for the whole world to see.

Still not certain of his talent? Take out a notepad. If Suzuki, who won seven consecutive batting titles with the Orix Blue Wave in Japan’s Pacific Coast League, is able to continue his mind-boggling hitting spree, he should be able to catch George Sisler’s season record of 257 hits, a monumental achievement that has stood since 1920. Check that on the Hall-of-Fame ballot. With a .347 average, Suzuki could break Dale Alexander’s rookie mark of .343, set in 1929. Check. Suzuki could win the little man’s Triple Crown — leading the league in average, hits and runs. Check. Might as well be the Quadruple Crown, the man is leading the league in stolen bases, too. Check. The way his Mariners have been playing this season (a laughable 19 game lead in A.L. West), there is a good chance he could win the World Series. Not a big deal? Just ask Hall-of-Famers Ernie Banks and Ted Williams. Check. And Suzuki might want to start dusting his mantle because the M.V.P., Rookie of the Year, Gold Glove and the batting title all seem feasible at year’s end. Check.

When a player is on the threshold of greatness, he must also stack up against his peers. And by the look of his numbers, he does it very well — darn hootin’ well. When New York Mets and National League All-Star manager Bobby Valentine watched Suzuki play in Japan last year, he was immediately taken with his skills and spoke of his greatness: “He’s one of the top five players in the world.” Mike Piazza said the same thing. Just to point out, Valentine isn’t the most huggy, kissy kind of guy. A player has to earn his respect.

Obviously, Suzuki has earned that respect from players and coaches around the league. But what about the fans? Check that, too. The man is like a giant panda bear — everybody wants to get a peek at him — and Suzuki unabashedly acknowledges them. This is a man, who, in his first year in the major leagues, garnered the most All-Star votes in both leagues, a feat never matched in the history of the game. His 3.3 million votes were more than what baseball’s pretty boys, Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, had combined. “I don’t know whether I’m popular or not,” Suzuki said after finding out he will start in the All-Star game. What? That just drips of humility. And he proves it on and off the field.

Suzuki signs autographs for fans before the game. Photo by AP.

Suzuki takes time to sign autographs, pose for photos and joke with children. Last week, he did his first television broadcast interview for ESPN. But every player has a limit. One can only answer so many questions and take so many photos (a nude shot of him is worth thousands in Japan). Reporters from two continents follow his every move. Sportswriters gush and revel at his play. If anybody had the guts to be Suzuki for a day, they might as well throw in the towel.

What does this say? Example: Kirby Puckett, the 2001 Hall-of-Fame inductee. And by quirky coincidence, Puckett happened to be in the same dugout as Suzuki because he was named honorary captain of the A.L. squad. Though he didn’t rack up extraordinary numbers while playing in a shortened career due to blindness in one eye, Puckett, a member of two world championship teams in Minnesota, still got the nod from the Hall on his first year of eligibility — mainly because of his charisma and character. Say Kirby Puckett to any Twins fan, get ready for a smile. Say Ichiro Suzuki to any Mariners fan, expect the same. Say it in 10 years, expect words like greatness, legend, a Hall-of-Famer. You can check that.

Reach Ethen Lieser at elieser@asianweek.com.