http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/baseball/mlb/04/29/fukudome0505/index.html
Kosuke Fukudome Tastes Good
Story Highlights
* With his all-around game, he has won over fans like no Cub since Sosa
* Fukudome was not aware the Cubs had not won a title in 100 years
* Unlike Ichiro or Daisuke Matsuzaka, Fukudome is not a big star in Japan
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Fukudome is giving Cubs fans hope that the centennial anniversary of their
last championship might conclude with another title
Fukudome is giving Cubs fans hope that the centennial anniversary of their
last championship might conclude with another title
Al Tielemans/SI
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By Lee Jenkins
He had agreed to the contract. He had put on the jersey. He had taken his
seat inside the stadium club, at the table draped in bunting, and he had
begun that final rite of free agency, the introductory press conference. Only
then did the magnitude of what he'd signed on for become clear.
His interpreter was translating reporters' questions from English to
Japanese, but one question, even when translated, sounded incomprehensible:
Did it factor into your decision that it has been 100 years since the Cubs
won a championship?
Kosuke Fukudome knew enough history to recognize that he was not joining a
dynasty. He realized that the Cubs were in the midst of a difficult stretch.
But a difficult century? For some reason, team officials had neglected to
mention this little detail in the three-plus years they had spent scouting
and courting him.
So Fukudome scratched his head. He took a breath. He flashed a nervous
half-smile. His contract was for four years, and his name was already
stitched across the back of his jersey. He could not exactly run out of
Wrigley Field and fly back to Japan. He also could not act daunted. "That
didn't factor too much into my choice," he told the assembled reporters on
Dec. 19. It was no lie, not technically. How could something be a factor if
he had not even been aware of it?
Four months later, sitting in the coffee shop of a downtown Chicago hotel,
Fukudome came clean. "I had no idea it had been 100 years," he said through
his interpreter, Matt Hidaka.
The fact that Kosuke Fukudome stuck around is making this 100th-anniversary
season a whole lot easier to stomach. Instead of picking at old scabs, the
Cubs are celebrating a new player who does not know Bartman from Bart
Simpson. Fukudome has been a Cub for only a month, but he already gets the
loudest pregame ovations at Wrigley Field. Every time he walks to home plate,
the organist plays a catchy melody that inspires chants of
"FOO-koo-DOUGH-may." Vendors say his jersey is their best seller, by
approximately two to one. He has also spawned a cottage industry outside the
ballpark, where you can buy bandanas with Fukudome's name spelled in Japanese
characters or T-shirts with shout-outs such as FUKUDOME IS MY HOMIE. (The
Cubs, though, did have to pull one unlicensed T-shirt from the outdoor
marketplace because it featured their bear logo with slanted eyes and Harry
Caray glasses, over the words HORRY KOW.)
Fukudome, though, should not be viewed as some novelty act. There are plenty
of reasons why the Cubs were in first place in the Central Division at week's
end: the rediscovered power stroke of first baseman Derrek Lee, a strong
bullpen and, not least of all, a newfound plate discipline that starts with
Fukudome. Through Sunday, the lefthanded-hitting Fukudome was batting .326
with a .444 on-base percentage. The notoriously rowdy fans in the Wrigley
bleachers not only hang signs of tribute to him in Japanese, but they also
chant in the rightfielder's native tongue. Their efforts are flattering, if
occasionally puzzling, to Fukudome. Placards with the Cubs' slogan IT'S GONNA
HAPPEN in Japanese have been read by Fukudome to say IT'S AN ACCIDENT. And
one well-meaning bleacher bum keeps yelling a phrase that translates as, "It
tastes good!"
"It's like he became a legend here," shortstop Ryan Theriot says. "In one
day."
The fanfare has come as a bit of a surprise to Fukudome, who came to the
States without the mythology that preceded Ichiro Suzuki, Hideki Matsui and
Daisuke Matsuzaka, each of whom is a celebrity in Japan. Fukudome believes he
already has more fans in Chicago than back home in Japan, where he was merely
a very good player with two batting titles, four Gold Gloves and an MVP
award, in 2006. His Japanese team, the Chunichi Dragons, played in a midsized
market and went 53 years without a championship before capturing the Central
League title last season -- without Fukudome, who was recovering from
right-elbow surgery. The Dragons were perhaps most famous for a former
manager, Senichi (Burning Hat) Hoshino, who grew so frustrated with his team
during its title drought that he occasionally punched players in the face
when they made mistakes. (Fukudome, who insists that he escaped any abuse,
compares Hoshino with Cubs manager Lou Piniella -- "because of their
intensity.")
Here's another reason Fukudome's instant popularity is a surprise: Nobody saw
it coming. In spring training Fukudome batted a soft .270, with one home run
and three doubles in 82 plate appearances. Most of his hits were weak liners
or ground balls that scooted through the infield. He rarely drove the ball.
It seemed obvious that Fukudome would need a couple of months to adjust to
big league pitching.
Nonetheless, when Fukudome jogged out to rightfield on Opening Day against
the Milwaukee Brewers, he was struck by the sight of eight shirtless men
standing side by side in the Wrigley bleachers, the letters of his last name
painted across their chests. It was 44°. On the first pitch of the first at
bat of Fukudome's Cubs career, against Ben Sheets, he laced a double off the
centerfield wall. "We all looked at each other in the dugout," says Cubs
righthander Ryan Dempster. "And we were like, O.K., maybe this guy does know
what he's doing."
Proving that his first at bat was no fluke, he went 3 for 3 and hit a
game-tying three-run homer in the bottom of the ninth inning off Eric Gagné.
The Cubs lost the game, but a phenomenon was born. Ten years after Sammy Sosa
hit 66 home runs, turning the rightfield bleachers into his private cheering
section, Fukudome had done the same, with 65 fewer homers. "When Sosa ran out
there, they all tapped their chests," says Cubs broadcaster and former third
baseman Ron Santo. "Now they bow."
At 31, Fukudome is starting a new life, largely on his own. His wife, Kazue,
still lives in Japan with their baby boy, Hayato. After Hayato was born in
December, Fukudome explained the origin of the name. "Chicago is called the
Windy City," he told reporters. "Hayato means windy, healthy, fast and first
boy." Fukudome is constantly showing off pictures of Hayato. But when he
moved into his downtown Chicago loft in mid-April, he hung only one piece of
art on the walls. It was a framed photograph of his Opening Day home run -- a
snapshot of the moment he had truly arrived in the United States.
Wrigley field has seen plenty of one-day wonders over the years. Most
famously, Cubs centerfielder Karl (Tuffy) Rhodes hit three home runs off Mets
starting pitcher Dwight Gooden on Opening Day 1994, only to hit just five
more during the rest of his major league career. (Coincidentally, Rhodes
ended up in Japan, where he's hit more homers -- 412 -- than any other
foreign-born player.) But Fukudome's staying power has nothing to do with the
long ball. He will never hit as many home runs as Matsui. He won't steal as
many bases as Ichiro. What separates Fukudome is his eye.
From the beginning of spring training Cubs pitchers noticed something odd
about Fukudome when they threw him batting practice. He took an inordinate
amount of pitches. When games began, his approach was not much different.
Most major league hitters, if behind in the count, will swing at any pitch
they believe is a strike. Fukudome will only swing at a pitch he believes he
can hit. The difference is subtle but significant. "I just try to focus on
the pitches I can handle," Fukudome says. "If it's an outside strike that I
can't reach, I won't swing at it. I'll just say, 'I'm sorry,' and walk away."
Even in Japan, where hitters are well-known for their plate discipline,
Fukudome was unusually selective. His on-base percentage over the last three
years was .443, .438 and .430, tops in the Central League each season. This
spring he tied for the Cactus League lead with 15 walks in 23 games. And this
season he has drawn 19 walks in 24 games, seeing 4.5 pitches per plate
appearance, second most in the majors.
Fukudome's stance looks a lot like Matsui's, his bat pointed straight up to
the sky, but his swing is more like Ichiro's. As the pitch approaches, he
inches forward in the batter's box, sliding both feet forward and often
swinging on the move. When he misses, he can look silly, doing a full
pirouette. Some managers might be tempted to tinker with Fukudome's form. But
Piniella managed Ichiro in Seattle and knows not to mess.
Cubs hitting coach Gerald Perry, who had the same role under Piniella in
Seattle, recalls having more concerns about Ichiro in his rookie season than
he does about Fukudome. Ichiro, after all, swung at pitches outside the
strike zone. Fukudome does not.
In an April 16 game against the Cincinnati Reds, Fukudome showed major league
pitchers just how serious he is about working counts. He came to the plate in
the sixth inning, with the Cubs ahead 10-1, a situation in which hitters
generally swing freely. Reds reliever David Weathers threw Fukudome four
pitches -- two just off the outside corner, two just below the knees.
Fukudome took all four, another walk. Afterward Weathers sat at his locker,
shaking his head. "That fish ain't bitin'," he said.
Fukudome does not drive only pitchers crazy. Gary Hughes has spent 42 years
scouting ballplayers, and none tested his patience as much as Fukudome. When
Hughes went to the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens to scout for the Cubs, he
had never heard of Fukudome. But as he watched the Japanese team, he found
himself drawn to their gap-toothed rightfielder. Hughes checked off all the
tools that Fukudome possessed -- run, field, hit and hit for power. The only
skill that remained a mystery was his arm.
It wasn't until the seventh game Hughes watched Fukudome play in the Olympics
that he finally got to see him throw. Fukudome had to track down a base hit
into the rightfield corner. He gloved the ball, came up firing and in one
furious motion threw out the runner trying to sneak into second base. "Holy
smokes, he can do it all!" Hughes exclaimed. "At that point I fell in love."
As Hughes walked the streets of Athens, he noticed a display of baseball
cards in a hotel lobby featuring many of the Olympians. Hughes grabbed a
Fukudome card and brought it back to the United States, where it has sat in
his desk ever since. As a special assistant to Cubs general manager Jim
Hendry, Hughes immediately recommended that Hendry sign Fukudome. But
Fukudome was not a free agent, and the Dragons did not want to post him,
which would have allowed major league teams to bid for the right to negotiate
with him. In 2005 Hughes flew to Japan to watch Fukudome. The following year
he did the same. After the '07 season Fukudome finally became a free agent,
and he signed with the Cubs in December for four years and $48 million. "I've
never waited so long to get a player I wanted," Hughes says. "I kept that
baseball card in my desk for three years. Now, I'm trying to get him to
autograph it."
It's two hours before game time, and Fukudome is weighing his bats in the
Cubs' clubhouse. Fukudome is not as fanatical about his pregame routine as
Ichiro is, but he is meticulous about his bats. He keeps a portable scale in
his locker to make sure all of the bats weigh precisely 920 grams. Some of
them, he fears, got a little light in spring training because of the dry
Arizona air. These will not be used during games.
Japanese players are often viewed as curiosities by their American teammates.
But the Cubs have embraced Fukudome as thoroughly as their fans have. Theriot
carries a Japanese-English dictionary. Ace starter Carlos Zambrano wrote his
own name in Japanese characters on the back of his cleats. Shortstop Ronny
Cedeño choreographed a handshake with Fukudome that includes a bow at the
end. Though the Cubs have never had a Japanese player before, several are
well acquainted with Japanese baseball. Outfielder Alfonso Soriano began his
professional career in Japan. Lee's father, Leon, played 10 years in Japan
before becoming the first black manager there.
The Cubs also appreciate that Fukudome makes an effort. During a bus ride
from Phoenix to Tucson in spring training, Theriot sat in the back row of the
bus with Mark DeRosa and Daryle Ward, having a private conversation. Fukudome
sat one row in front of them. After about 45 minutes Theriot noticed Fukudome
typing feverishly into a small keyboard. "I looked closer, and I saw that it
was his little electronic translator," Theriot says. "He was keeping track of
every word we were saying."
Fukudome has a blue notebook in which he jots all of his observations,
usually about opposing pitchers and teams. But with the Cubs there is so much
to learn. On April 16 Cincinnati's Adam Dunn hit a home run onto Waveland
Avenue, and 15 balls came flying out of the bleachers and back onto the
field, one of which nearly hit Fukudome in the head. Fukudome was aware of
the Wrigley tradition that home runs hit by opposing players are to be thrown
back. He was not aware, however, that many fans carry their own baseballs, so
if they catch a home run from an opposing player, they can throw a different
one back onto the field. Afterward Fukudome sounded confused. "I didn't know
we gave up that many home runs tonight," he cracked.
A sense of humor is crucial when playing for the Cubs. There will be more
misunderstandings and mispronunciations as the year unfolds. But so far, it
tastes good.