The Book of Nomo - Chapter 7 - The Road Home

TOKYO — Nomo had two years left as a front-end starter in MLB and they would be spent in Los Angeles, where, prior to the 2002 season, he signed a two-year contract worth $13.5 million to play for the Dodgers. Nomo and his agent had chosen L.A. because the environment within the organization had improved markedly over what it had been in 1998, when ownership and front office management had suddenly changed, Nomo’s favorite catcher Mike Piazza had been traded, and Nomo had decided he wanted out. 

For one thing, Nomo could be reunited with his friend Dave Wallace, Nomo’s first pitching coach in MLB, from 1995-1997, who had returned to L.A. after a stint with New York, and was now the Dodgers general manager. For another, his new pitching coach would be Jim Colborn, who spent years as a coach in Japan with the Orix BlueWave, and would be the only coach in MLB who could speak Japanese on the mound with him. For yet another, the Dodgers manager was Jim Tracy, who had also spent time in Japan, during the 1980’s, as an outfielder for the old Taiyo Whales of Yokohama, and, as he liked to say, was familiar with the Japanese mind — if that appellation could be applied to Nomo.

As an added plus, Nomo would have a new Japanese teammate: the former Yakult Swallows left-handed pitcher Kazuhisa Ishii, who had become the third high profile Japanese player to join the major leagues in the previous three years, following  Kazuhiro Sasaski in 2000 and Ichiro Suzuki in 2001. (In 2001 Sasaki would have the most successful season of any closer in the history of the Seattle Mariners, with 45 saves, all while Ichiro was batting champion, with an average of .350 on 242 hits, and winning MVP and Rookie of the Year in the process.)  

On top of that, Nomo could also be closer to Peter O’Malley, who, though no longer an owner of the Dodgers, still lived in the L.A. area and had remained good friends with Nomo. The gentlemanly O’Malley had kept a careful, fatherly watch over Nomo during his travels around MLB and showed a concern for Nomo’s welfare. He had even traveled to Iowa to watch Nomo pitch in a minor league start in the Cubs farm system.

Despite this unprecedented comfort zone (or perhaps because of it) Nomo struggled in his early starts and found himself in an unpleasant confrontation with Tracy in May after his ERA had swollen to 4.46. Tracy, concerned over Nomo’s lack of success,  called a private meeting for Nomo, Colborn and himself and told Nomo that he might have to be removed from the rotation and go to the bullpen.

Nomo was quick to respond.

“Wouldn’t it be better for a pitcher if his manager and pitching coach showed confidence in him, instead of doubt?” he said, his anger rising, “wouldn’t he be more able to resolve his problems?”  

Colborn stepped in to break the tension, suggesting politely that Nomo adopt a  different strategy on the mound on a count of two balls and no strikes — an American style strategy instead of a Japanese one.  

“Throw strikes to each batter, after two strikes,” he said,  “instead of nipping the corners with outside balls as you’ve been doing.” 

It was not at all what Nomo preferred doing but he said that if that was what they wanted him to do then that was what he would do. And lo and behold, in the days and weeks that followed, he experienced a remarkable turnaround. He went on to have a  record of 16 wins and 6 losses and an ERA of 3.39 as the season progressed. His fastball regained some of its old zip as he logged 193 strikeouts, as opposed to 101 walks. He threw more first-pitch strikes and had fewer 3-2 counts. He proved to be the best pitcher on the team, by far, and one of the best in the entire MLB.

Whether the adoption of a different American-style strategy was the real reason for Nomo’s turnaround or whether it was simply because of the resurrection of his fastball, was not clear. Baseball was a strange and confounding game that way. But the fact remained that Nomo was now the old Nomo and the L.A. brain trust could not have been happier. 

Colborn, himself a former 20-game winner with Milwaukee, was so impressed with Nomo’s pitching over the last four months of the season, that he compared him to an artistic genius. 

Said Colborn, “Nomo is a wonder. From an experienced professional’s point of view, it’s a pure treat to watch guys like him do their craft. It is like an art critic having a chance to go back in time and see some of the great masters like Rembrandt or Van Gogh work on their paintings. For that reason, I enjoy it every time that he pitches.”

Tracy was equally effusive. 

“He is professional in his preparation,” he said, “He is professional between the lines. He’s professional off the field. He is just remarkable. He is such a dominant starter that batters in the National League don’t want to face him.”

Outside the foul lines, Nomo remained his usual bland, unrevealing, often maddening self. Players would walk past his locker and offer a kind word or a pat on the shoulder, and more often than not were met with a solemn nod. Dodgers infielder Brian Jordan, echoing Eric Karros, opined, with some frustration, that Nomo was one of the “quietest baseball players” he had ever met.

By then it was clear that Nomo’s reluctance to speak had less to do with language ability than it did with a desire to simply be left alone and not have to endure the daily stresses that ballplayers had to endure dealing with each other as well as the press. 

As Colborn, a student of Japanese culture put it, “Hideo knows enough to communicate. His silence is just his way to build a wall to keep the outside world from intruding. It was a defense mechanism — a way to keep his inner harmony in tune.”

But if the Dodgers were not ecstatic about Nomo’s stoic, colorless personality, they, to a man, agreed that he deserved his rightful place among baseball’s best pitchers. He had indeed set an example for others on the team with his tireless work ethic and his intense competitive attitude. He consistently proved himself to be a perfectionist, a player with ultra-high standards for himself and one who had difficulty tolerating any kind of failure.

As Dodgers reserve catcher David Ross put it, “What get you about Nomo is his unyielding commitment. Nomo doesn’t show hardly any emotion, but it is clear that he is upset when he comes out of a game. He doesn’t like to leave the mound, no matter how well he has pitched or how few runs he has given up. It’s like every time he pitches, he goes out there expecting a shutout, or at least to throw nine innings, and if he doesn’t, he feels like he has failed.”

Nomo pitched the Dodgers’ Opening Day game in 2003. It was the second time he had pitched Opening Day in the major leagues and this time he threw a shutout against the Houston Astros. He went on to compile a 16-13 record with an impressive era of 3.09, striking out 177 batters. His 2003 statistics were almost as impressive as the season before, but the specter of the beginning of the end of his career was starting to make its presence known.

In September, he developed an inflammation of his rotator cuff, which he reported to Colborn who was flabbergasted — not at the news of the injury but because of the fact that Nomo had reported it to him at all.  

“You know it must have been bad,” said Colborn, “because Nomo is not the type to complain about anything to anybody.”

At the end of the season, Nomo underwent shoulder surgery.

When Ishii, Nomo’s new Japanese teammate first arrived in Los Angeles, he was greeted as the second coming of Hideo Nomo himself. In fact, Dodgers officials had prepared for another round of Nomomania type baseball fever, anticipating “Ishii mania.” However, it never really materialized. In fact, truth be told, it had been naïve on the part of the Dodgers to ever think that it would be. 

For one thing, Ishii never had the star-quality statistics that Nomo had. He had been  a good pitcher in Japan, but he never blew away the rest of the league the way Nomo had done in his early years with Kintetsu. He was capable of striking out the side when his fastball and slider were working, but he was also just as capable of walking four batters in a row in a close game and handing victory to the opposition. 

Ishii had had good seasons in the NPB:  13-4 and 2.76 in 1995, 10-4 and 1.91 in 1997, and 14-6 and 1.29 in 1998, and 12-6 and 3.39 in 2001, helping the Yakult Swallows win Japan Championships in all those seasons except ’98. But he also had bad seasons as well. For example, in 1996, he missed most of the  season with a bad shoulder and angered the Swallows management over his inability to take proper care of himself. In 1999, he slumped to just eight victories, while his ERA ballooned to 4.81. 

Ishii was known for his lackadaisical attitude towards baseball, a game he said he did not particularly like. In fact, he said, he would rather be a movie director. His sense of physical conditioning was almost nonexistent. He smoked 60 cigarettes a day, existed on Coca-Cola and junk food, and spent his post-game hours chasing fashion models like Kanda Uno or soaking in Tokyo bars. Thus while, yes, Ishii was a topic of conversation amongst Japanese when he went to MLB,  he was more of a  curiosity —not a phenomenon like Nomo. He did not command anywhere near the attention — or respect — of his more famous NPB sempai.  

“Nomo couldn't go anywhere, not even the bathroom, without a media group following him,” said Dodgers first baseman Eric Karros, explaining the difference,  “But that wasn’t the case with Ishii. It wasn’t not even comparable.”

Ishii started well as a Dodger, winning 10 of his first 11, but ran out of gas in the second half of ’02,  finishing with a mark of 14-10 and a mediocre ERA of 4.27. The  following year he was 9-7 with a 3.86 ERA and spent several weeks on the disabled list. His control was erratic, he walked too many batters (in one inning in Pittsburgh he threw 52 pitches!) and he did not seem to care how long he stayed in a game.  Unlike his teammate Nomo, who almost required a SWAT team to remove him from the mound, Ishii was always content, even eager, to come out after 100 pitches. Moreover, unlike Nomo, he frequently skipped starts, complaining of assorted aches and pains, and the Dodgers coaching staff  began to complain that he was more interested in beach ball and other private off-the-field activities than the game of baseball. They scratched their heads when he commented, as he frequently did, indeed, that he only played baseball because he was relatively good at it and could make a good living. 

The Dodgers were supposed to have benefited from being the only team in MLB history to have two Japanese starters, two Japanese stars who could rely on each other, relieve each other’s homesickness, prop each other up in times of need, and so on.  And in truth, Nomo did go out of his way to ease Ishii’s adjustment, according to all reports, and tried to become his friend. But in the end, it did not do much good. Ishii simply lacked the necessary desire, or character, or what-have you to be to be a front line MLB starter.

At one point during 2003 as the season entered the September stretch, with Ishii on his way to a record of 9-7 and a horrendous era of 4.71, a Los Angeles Times writer joked that the team should swap Ishii for the 12 year-old pitcher who had just powered Musashi Fuchu to the Little League World Series title that year. “That Japanese Little Leaguer has better control than Ishii,” quipped the Times reporter,  “He’s the one we should use.”   

The Dodgers finally gave up on Ishii, removing him from the starting rotation near the end of the season. That winter, they packed him off to the New York Mets. Ishii’s final Dodger totals of 36-25, 4.30 were nothing less than an embarrassment (as was, to image-conscious Dodger officials, at least, Ishii’s sense of fashion, which consisted of  rumpled shorts, T-shirts and sandals).

Said Colborn, comparing his two Japanese charges, in that diplomatic way that was so characteristic of him, “Nomo, I liked him as a person. He was sensitive and conscientious — very responsible in his work and in being on time.  Ishii? I just wish he were more like Nomo.” 

His meaning could not have been clearer.

Nomo and Hideki Matsui

There was one more item to add to the Nomo legacy before he packed his bags and moved on from Los Angeles.

That item was named Hideki Matsui, who had become a free agent after serving nine years with the Yomiuri Giants. Matsui had decided to leave that the sainted Giants in order to go to North America to play Major League Baseball. It had been an extremely difficult decision, one that required nearly as much courage for Matsui as it took for Hideo Nomo back in 1994, when he threw off the chains that had bound him to the Kintetsu Buffaloes.  

Defying the entire baseball establishment was a move that would have been unthinkable in the days of the famed Sadaharu Oh and Shigeo Nagashima. For a Giant superstar like Godzilla, as he was known, who was the best batter of his generation, to discard his Kyojin uniform and desert his millions of adoring fans for MLB was unimaginable. Even as it was happening, it was hard to believe. It was one thing for Ichiro Suzuki, who played for a team, the Orix BlueWave, that nobody paid attention to, to migrate to MLB. But for Hideki Matsui, the Giants cleanup batter, to make the move, well, that was something. That’s how much the times had changed. 

Matsui had to face down the wrath of powerful Yomiuri owner Tsuneo Watanabe, who did not think that any player would have the gumption to challenge his authority. But Matsui did, with a moving, tearful, apologetic speech in a roomful of reporters at a basement banquet room in the Imperial Hotel. “This is something I have to do,” he had said, “Even if people think I am a traitor.” In the process, Matsui also turned down a record contract offer, $64 million at 10 years, from Watanabe. Then he sent out letters to all 30 MLB teams offering his services before, in the end, agreeing to a three-year, $21 million deal with the New York Yankees.

Such courage was a remarkable thing to behold. And once again, it is doubtful this would have happened had it not been for Nomo, who had opened the door and held it there for all others to march through. 

As we have seen, it is unlikely Ichiro would have gone to MLB had it not been for Nomo, and had Ichiro not gone, one wonders if Matsui would have gone. Ichiro was Matsui’s leading rival for so many years in Japan for best player in the country. When Ichiro went, Matsui, all reason tells us, surely must have felt compelled to go as well, lest he be thought of as a wimp, afraid to make the jump.

But go Matsui did.

And thus it was that in June 2004, in an interleague game between the Yankees and the Dodgers, on a cool, gloomy day at Dodger Stadium that required the stadium lights to be turned on, Nomo took the mound against Matsui. It had taken 14 years and thousands and thousands of miles for these two men to face  each other for the first time in an official game.

Matsui’s first at bat took place before 55,207 fans, one of whom was Ryozo Kato, the Japanese ambassador to the United States. Nomo went into his trademark tornado wind up and fired a forkball. Matsui swung and got his bat on the ball, hooking it down the right field line and barely, just barely, into the right field stands at the 330 foot mark, for a three-run homer.  

It was a weakly hit ball and the right field foul pole area was the only part of the park where such a weak hit could have gone out. But, nonetheless, it was the first time in major league history that a Japanese hitter hit a home run off of a Japanese pitcher —yet another item in the Hideo Nomo legacy. 

Nomo recovered and used his forkball and an effective slider to limit the Yankees to one hit between the second and seventh inning, striking out three. He even belted a solo home run in the fifth that cut the Yankees lead to 4-2. 

But Matsui’s home run had been too much. The game went into the history books as a Yankees 6-2 victory.

Matsui would go on to a successful MLB career with the Yankees. But the end was nigh for Nomo. In July, he went on the disabled list with inflammation in his right rotator cuff. He pitched one more game in September, when he threw six strong innings in an 8-2 win over the Arizona Diamondbacks. But that would be his last victory ever in the National League. 

2004 NPB strike

That 2004 season was truly the beginning of the end for Nomo. He would finish with a record of only 4 games won and 11 losses, and a monstrous ERA of 8.23. It was the worst ERA in the history of MLB for a pitcher with at least 15 decisions. It also represented a huge drop from the previous year. Nomo was now 36, his fastball had long since left him, and he awaited yet another surgery. His critics were now openly saying that he was on the “glide pattern” of his illustrious career. 

But while contemplating what must have appeared to him to be a grim future, he must also have taken heart from a signal event that took place back in Japan in September that year — the NPB player strike of 2004. Conflict between the owners on one side and the players and fans on the other, had begun when Nomo’s old team, the Kintetsu Buffaloes had been merged with the Orix BlueWave. The merger was part of a contraction planned by Yomiuri Giants owner Tsuneo Watanabe and Seibu owner Yoshiaki Tsutsumi to reduce the two leagues, the P.L. and C.L., to one and from a total of 12 teams to 8 or 10. The NPB teams had been hit hard by the defection of their big stars to the MLB. In particular, with Matsui’s departure, the Yomiuri Giants had seen their once sky-high double-digit TV ratings fall to the single-digit range

However, the fans were furious about the proposed contraction and so were the members of the players association. Led by Swallows catcher Atsuya Furuta, who seemed possessed by the spirit of Hideo Nomo, the NPBPA went on strike for the first time in the 70-year history of Japanese professional baseball. It was, of course, not the sort of strike one would see in America, where the attitude was that of MLBPA leader Tom Glavine, who declared, as the 1994 World Series was canceled due to the long lockout and strike that year much to the dismay and anger of baseball lovers everywhere, “I don’t give a damn what the fans think.” Furuta and his cohorts, by contrast, could not stop apologizing. The NPBPA strike took place on a September weekend and, in addition to the countless teary-eyed apologies made by striking ballplayers,  it featured them conducting impromptu baseball clinics at the park and autograph sessions to compensate those fans who had tickets to the cancelled games.

Nonetheless, it was clear that the fans supported the players over the owners and that the strike was turning into a PR disaster for the shoguns of the NPB. Moreover, the loss of games on a weekend in the middle of a pennant race, made the owners stop and think about huge loss of revenue they faced if another work stoppage occurred. Thus, lo and behold, they bowed to the players wishes and allowed the creation of a new franchise, the Tohoku Rakuten Golden Eagles, to restore the 12-team balance. They also agreed subsequently to start interleague play, institute postseason playoffs and grudgingly accept player agents.

Hideo Nomo was no doubt proud of the seeds of rebellion he had sown.

200^th Win

Hideo was not done yet. Not quite.

Before the start of spring training in 2005, Nomo signed an $800,000 contract with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, a club that was at the time, one of the worst teams in the American League. His contract also included a $700,000 incentive that kicked in if Nomo started 20 games, a stipulation was included because Devil Rays upper management was unsure if Nomo’s arm was completely sound. 

Tampa Bay was not your typical American town. It was  a town noted for its high percentage of elderly retirees from the north and the high percentage of auto accidents that they, with their failing vision and slowing reflexes, were responsible for. Most of them were too old to boo, which was good for Nomo since he only managed to compile a record of 5-8 and an ERA of 7.24 in 100 innings, and, as it turned out, 19 starts. 

However, Nomo did have a couple of memorable moments. One of them was in Seattle, versus Ichiro’s Mariners on June 5. Nomo threw a sharply breaking forkball that badly fooled the Mariners strapping, volatile slugger Richie Sexson. Sexson, embarrassed at looking so foolish, came off the field steaming. He clubbed himself twice on top of his helmet with his bat, then he slammed the bat as hard as he could on the steps of the Mariners dugout, snapping it in two. 

It was an historic event. Sexson became to the first known player in MLB to do injury to himself after being struck out by Nomo.  

(Said Sexson, of the two self-inflicted whacks on the head,  “I was so mad I could have been hit by a car and I wouldn’t have felt it.) 

The other moment was even more historic. On June 15, Nomo held the opposition to two runs over seven innings, in a 5-3 victory. It was his  200^th career win — 78 in Japan and 122 in MLB. 

Although this was not exactly a headline-making event in North America, it made front page headlines in Japan’s popular sports dailies. This enabled Nomo to enter Japan’s “meikyukai,” or Golden Players Club, a kind of informal Hall of Fame established by Japan’s winningest pitcher, Masaichi Kaneda, who won 400 games in a career spanning 20 years from 1950 to 1969. Players are automatically inducted if they reach career totals of 2,000 hits, 200 wins, or 250 saves. It marked the first time a player who played in both Japan and MLB achieved such a feat, yet another history-making mark for the pioneer from Japan.

Nomo’s performance that day touched many people watching, including St. Petersburg sports writer Bill Chastain, who wrote the following heartfelt article about it. 

ST. PETERSBURG — Hideo Nomo took to the mound at Tropicana Field on Wednesday night making his 313th Major League start with the hope of gaining his 200th career win — combined between Japan and the Major Leagues, of course. 

Considering the gifts he once carried to the mound — nasty splitter with a mid-90 mph fastball — Nomo must curse the baseball gods when those same pitches now arrive at home plate at speeds ranging anywhere from the mid 70s to mid 80s. 

Yet there is something noble about the way a professional like Nomo continues to compete, using guile, wits and a lifetime of baseball wisdom, which explains how this 36-year-old can still retire Major League hitters. He did that on Wednesday night in a 5-3 Rays victory in front of an announced crowd of 8,801. 

"You know that [Nomo] has to work hard," said Devil Rays manager Lou Piniella. "To stay where he can compete at the big-league level and win some baseball games. I remember him when he was with the Red Sox and he was basically the same type of pitcher. The only difference was, he had a lot more velocity on the ball, struck out a lot more hitters. [His] split finger was a little harder. 

"And now he has to locate more, where before he just overpowered you. But you know, if you want to pitch into the later stages of your career, those are the adjustments you have to make as a Major League pitcher." 

Nomo's reward finally came against the Brewers on Wednesday night, when he pitched seven innings, allowing two runs and four hits to claim victory No. 200 -- a huge accomplishment to the Japanese baseball-following public. 

Many in the crowd huddled around the home dugout after the game to pay tribute to Nomo when he returned to the field. A large contingent of Japanese media was on hand to chronicle the event. 

"I think it will be a real good memory one day," Nomo said. "I got to celebrate with my teammates and the fans. One day I can look back and it will be a real good memory." 

Nomo remains an icon in Japan. Since arriving in the Major Leagues with the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1995, Nomo has cobbled together 122 wins — which makes up more than one-third of the 343 games (entering the 2005 season) won by Japanese pitchers in the Major Leagues all-time. 

With the win, Nomo has reached the milestone to become the 45th member (16th pitcher) of Meikyukai. There are two Hall of Fame equivalents in Japanese baseball. One is the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame; the other is Meikyukai. Hall of Fame members are elected. Membership in the Meikyukai is automatic after a position player reaches 2,000 career hits, or a pitcher reaches 200 career wins. The totals are roughly the equivalent of 3,000 hits or 300 wins in the United States because the Japanese season is shorter. 

"Quite an accomplishment," Piniella said. "He's had a great career. And this is a special win. ... We didn't have champagne but we had the beer -- so he got doused with beer and everybody gave him a standing ovation. It was really respectful of a heck of a competitor and a great pitcher." 

Nothing comes easy at age 36, and right out of the gate Nomo surrendered a solo home run to leadoff hitter Brady Clark. The Brewers added another in the second to put Nomo in a 2-0 hole. 

But Nomo continued to fight, and he got a little help from his teammates -- and Brewers second baseman Rickie Weeks. 

Kevin Cash homered in the second -- in his first at-bat of the season after being recalled from Triple-A Durham -- to cut the lead to 2-1. Weeks then made the first of his two errors, allowing Nick Green to reach base leading off the fourth. Two batters later, Alex Gonzalez doubled home Green to tie the score. Weeks' error in the fifth allowed the go-ahead run to score and the Rays padded the lead in the seventh with an RBI double by Julio Lugo and a sacrifice fly from Green to make it 5-2. 

"It was [Nomo's] game," Piniella said. "I was going to basically let him go as long as he wanted. And when he came out after the seventh, he said he'd had enough and we brought in our bullpen." 

Nomo gave way to Franklin Nunez, who pitched an immaculate eighth before Danys Baez took over in the ninth, and despite surrendering a run, picked up his ninth save on the season. 

In addition to paying tribute to Nomo after the game, players in the Rays clubhouse seemed to genuinely appreciate the opportunity to be part of Nomo's accomplishment. 

"It just shows what a pro he is and what a great career he's had," Cash said. "It was exciting, something that was nice to be a part of." 

Bill Chastain is a reporter for MLB.com. 

A little over a month later, on July 25, two days before he was slated to make his twentieth major league start, which would have brought him his $700,000 bonus, Nomo was released. It was an understandable move on the Devil Rays part, give the pitiable results they had paid for Nomo to date.  

On July 27, Nomo was picked up off waivers by the New York Yankees, who signed him to a minor league contract, but never called him up.

Charlotte 

In the spring of 2006, Nomo was signed to a minor league contract by the his seventh MLB team, the Chicago White Sox, who sent him to North Carolina to play for the Triple-A Charlotte Knights of the International League. Nomo went, uncomplainingly. He was probably the only member of the team who did not have to worry about money, since in his MLB career he had earned an estimated $34 million.  

“I just want to keep getting on the mound,” he said, “I want to get the ball and throw it. Playing the game is the thing with me.” 

2006 WBC

As Nomo toiled in the minor league camp, unwatched by the media, the eyes of the baseball world were riveted on would be yet another legacy of the market-opening Hideo Nomo experiment, the World Baseball Classic. It was an enterprise thought to be unimaginable in the pre-Nomo era. But the success of Japanese players who followed in his wake and the market for televised MLB games with Japanese players in them, made MLB planners realize how much money could be made with such a venture. The WBC would accomplish two important things for the MLB above and beyond the revenue from TV and ticket sales that the tournament would bring. It would provide a market for MLB merchandise and a testing ground for new young major league talent. 

Japan won both the 2006 WBC and the 2009 WBC, playing skillfully executed fundamental baseball. The WBC games were among the highest-rated sporting events in the history of Japanese television. The 2006 final was watched by one out of every two Japanese. Water usage was said to have increased by 25% between innings.

It might be noted that few baseball fans in North America paid attention to the WBC. Ratings for the games in the U.S. were in the mid-single digits. For most Americans major leaguers it was just another meaningless series of exhibition games and they refused to participate. Those who were nearly a month behind the Japanese in spring training who reported to camp Feb. 1 and failed to take the games seriously in the way Japanese did. An indication of the lackadaisical American approach to the tournament was the attitude of Team USA manager Buck Martinez, who let his starters stay in the game despite having given up an inordinate amount of runs, explaining, “Hey, it’s spring training. The players need their work.”

Caracas

On June 7, 2006, the White Sox released Nomo, who had been hit by a succession of injuries and had yet another arm surgery. It was the ninth time in his professional career he had been either released or traded. 

In 2007, the peripatetic Nomo signed on with the Leones del Caracas of the Venezuelan Winter League, managed by his former catcher, Carlos Hernandez. The Venezuelan league was viewed as a first step toward an eventual MLB comeback.

Going to Venezuela was an indication of how desperate Nomo was. Caracas is one of the most dangerous cities in Latin America, with a murder and kidnap rate higher than even Detroit. It has been that way for some time. Fans sip whiskey, not beer, during the game, and spew vulgar epithets, sometimes touching off brawls.

During the first decade of the 21^st century, officials found it necessary to cancel part of one season due to armed gangs breaking into the players clubhouse while players were there and MLB infielder Juan Uribe's mother was kidnapped by thugs looking for ransom. She wasn’t the only one. That sort of thing is why most players felt apprehensive when they were there. Most foreign ballplayers paid attention to warnings to avoid leaving their hotels in the evening. And Nomo was no exception.  Armed guards were often necessary to go to and from the stadium. So, players were usually playing under a certain amount of duress when performing there. 

Nomo had a difficult time adjusting to such a strange environment. He made his debut on Oct. 20, 2007 against Tiburones de la Guaira, pitching one inning, allowing one hit and no runs, and compiling  a an overall record of 0-2 with a 6.59 ERA, over 13 innings and 7 games. Opponents hit .310 against him. 

Then he developed arm trouble and decided to take a rest before giving the big leagues one more shot in the spring.

Kansas City

Nomo’s stature had fallen so far that some big-league executives laughed when his agent Don Nomura asked for a tryout. But not the Kansas City Royals. K.C. General Manager Dayton Moore offered him a chance — perhaps if only because another Japanese pitcher Yasuhiko Yabuta had been added to the Royals roster. 

“Anytime a major league pitcher with as much success as Nomo has had still has a desire to pitch, you have to listen to him,” said Moore, “He has had his ups and downs but sometimes those veteran guys know how to pitch and they'll figure it out.”

“There’s obviously still a passion there," said Trey Hillman, the former Hokkaido Nippon Ham Fighters manager who had just taken over the managerial post in Kansas City, “He’s the winningest pitcher from the other side of the world, so I'm very anxious to see him and we’ll take a serious look at him. He’s got a lot of deceptiveness to his delivery. The thing that was so earth-shattering with him when he was with the Dodgers was his split (split-fingered fastball, another term for forkball). It was widely known as the nastiest split  in all of baseball.” 

Few Royals watchers were optimistic.

Observers snickered when Nomo showed up in camp noticeably overweight. He was the only player out of breath before basic warmup exercises. Even the reporters covering the Royals were in better shape than Nomo. Everyone assumed Nomo’s job was just to keep Yabuta, the Royals new Japanese relief pitcher, company.

In intra-squad games, Nomo was far from the great pitcher he had been back in his early days in MLB. Now, sadly, the old tornado wind-up was gone and his once 95 mile-per-hour fastball was barely in the 80’s.

But then a strange thing happened. Nomo came back to life. Nomo was toiling in a preseason exhibition game, when suddenly, he started striking batters out. His fastball has some pop to it and his forkball was dropping as sharply as it ever had. On the bench, Royals manager Hillman turned to his coaches, eyes wide and mouth open and said, “Hey, guys, do you see what I’m seeing?”

On April 5, Nomo’s contract was bought by the Royals and Nomo was added to the 25-man roster. He had gone from pioneer to survivor. Nomo signed a contract for $600,000 and the chance to earn $100,000 in performance bonuses.

A reporter asked Nomo is he would spend the season in the Royals minor leagues if it was necessary. Nomo was offended by the query. 

“That’s a strange question,” he snapped, “I will go to the minor leagues if necessary, but I definitely want to play in the major leagues.”

It was a heartwarming story, but one, that, sadly, that did not have a happy ending.   Nomo pitched a total of three times for the Royals — none of them effectively. The early spring cold in North America probably doomed Nomo’s chance of ever making a comeback. Had he been sent to the minor leagues, say to the warmer climes of Arizona or Florida where his arm could ease into the season, he might have succeeded. But he wound up pitching in the chilly climes of the Kansas City and the Northeast, and his arm stiffened as a result. 

On April 10, 2008, Nomo made his first major league appearance since 2005. He faced the New York Yankees in relief. He was brought in to start the seventh inning of a game while the Yankees were leading 4-1. Nomo loaded the bases, but was able to retire the next batter, who, as chance would have it, was Hideki Matsui, back for another crack at the Nomo forkball. However, as chance would also have it, Nomo later surrendered back-to-back homers to Alex Rodriguez and Jorge Posada in the ninth inning.

In his next game against the Angels, he retired only three of the eight batters he faced and in the following contest, he allowed a two-run double, a one-run single, and a three-run homer in four batters faced. In all, he surrendered nine runs and three homers in four and one-third innings. Although he had managed to strike Ichiro out in one-at bat, the magic was clearly gone. His forkball — or split-fingered fastball — was still sporadically effective, but his 85 mile-per-hour straight fastball was embarrassingly easy to hit. Without the fastball to set up the fork, Nomo was toast.  

A hot new rookie pitcher named Luke Hochevar — highly touted, much like Nomo had been 18 years ago when he joined Kintetsu — was coming up. And so Nomo, now aged 39 and 20 pounds heavier than he’d ever been in his life, was indeed finished.

The man who had caused Americans to pay serious attention to Japan — and Japan to start paying serious attention to America — was history.

On April 20, Nomo was designated for assignment and the Royals released him on April 29, 2008. On July 17, 2008, Nomo officially announced his retirement from Major League Baseball, and shortly after, forever severed ties with his longtime agent Nomura, because of a business dispute which prompted one of Nomo’s associate to take Nomura to court in Japan, alleging fraud. Nomo was said to be so upset at Nomura that he stopped speaking to him. In fact, he would not even allow an Osaka-based TV company filming a documentary about him in the fall of 2009 to interview Nomura. 

The Hideo Nomo/Don Nomura era was indeed over.