Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/columns/sto...&id=2932348
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise What's with everyone still going after and writing articles about Bonds? He obviously doesn't give a shit about reporters and all their crap. When he hits 755, write something. When he passes him with 756, write something else. Then be done.
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Capt. Comeback @ Jul 12 2007, 02:47 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>What's with everyone still going after and writing articles about Bonds? He obviously doesn't give a shit about reporters and all their crap. When he hits 755, write something. When he passes him with 756, write something else. Then be done.</div>They do this crap all the time. Nothing new. And A-Rod is going to pass Bonds as long as he stays healthy, produces, and plays 8-10 more years. He also has a chance to break the world mark set by Sadaharu Oh, 868
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Capt. Comeback @ Jul 11 2007, 11:47 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>What's with everyone still going after and writing articles about Bonds? He obviously doesn't give a shit about reporters and all their crap. When he hits 755, write something. When he passes him with 756, write something else. Then be done.</div>It's a big story....they're will be stories daily until he does it.
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (AdropOFvenom @ Jul 12 2007, 10:28 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Capt. Comeback @ Jul 11 2007, 11:47 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>What's with everyone still going after and writing articles about Bonds? He obviously doesn't give a shit about reporters and all their crap. When he hits 755, write something. When he passes him with 756, write something else. Then be done.</div>It's a big story....they're will be stories daily until he does it.</div>They did this shit in 98, when Sosa and McGwire were after 62, and again in 2001, when THG was on pace to break McGwire's mark
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (DevinHester23 @ Jul 12 2007, 09:47 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>He also has a chance to break the world mark set by Sadaharu Oh, 868</div>That record isn't to be considered a real record. He wouldn't have hit half of that crap if he played in the MLB.
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Capt. Comeback @ Jul 12 2007, 03:58 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (DevinHester23 @ Jul 12 2007, 09:47 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>He also has a chance to break the world mark set by Sadaharu Oh, 868</div>That record isn't to be considered a real record. He wouldn't have hit half of that crap if he played in the MLB.</div>Exactly, the NPB is just about AAAA ball.
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise Actually, I read a Tribune article on Oh last week, even if he had played in the states, he'd still be world home run king. 766 of his jacks had distance to get out here:<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div><div class='quotemain'>FUKUOKA, Japan -- Wearing a puzzled look that needed no translation, Sadaharu Oh shrugged his shoulders and sipped his Japanese coffee.The world's real home-run king then leaned back in his chair and chuckled uncomfortably at being referred to as baseball royalty."I don't think of myself that way," Oh said through an interpreter. "No, no, no."Perhaps not, but only one person in the world knows what it feels like to break Hank Aaron's all-time home-run record. And it isn't Barry Bonds -- not yet, anyway, with Bonds sitting on 751 career home runs and commanding the national stage this week at the All-Star Game in his home park in San Francisco.It is Oh, a slight, sinewy man who in his white Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks jersey more resembles a jockey, say, than baseball's greatest slugger ever.Inside his Hawks manager's office before a recent game at the Yahoo! Dome, Oh reluctantly pondered the distinction of hitting 868 career home runs -- 113 more than Aaron's 755 -- in 3,114 fewer at-bats than Aaron and nearly 500 fewer than Bonds."I cannot compare myself to players now because there's a 30- and 40-year difference in age and in the actual way of thinking about hitting," Oh said. "I always think those who can hit home runs can, and those who can't hit them can't. I could hit them. So for an actual batter like me who is able to hit a home run, then it's not really that big of an accomplishment if I do."Humility of that sort continues to afford Oh, now 67, iconic status in a country where cultural devotion to baseball often resembles religion. The reverence for Oh in Japan strikes a bold contrast to the rancor Bonds has encountered across America this summer in his pursuit of Aaron's sacrosanct record. Twenty-seven years after he retired from the Tokyo Yomiuri Giants, for whom he played 22 years and won nine MVP awards, Oh still gets respectful bows. Bonds gets booed.C.J. Nitkowski, a 10-year major-league veteran left-hander now pitching for the Hawks, compared Oh's baseball celebrity in Japan with "Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle and Ted Williams all wrapped up into one."During Japan's national anthem, the "Kimigayo," before a recent home game, the crowd began to roar as Oh's image split the screen with the Japanese flag, two of the country's most recognizable symbols and sources of pride."Mr. Oh is like God here," said Ryuta Ohyama, the Hawks' director of corporate sales. "The only thing close would be what Pele was like to [soccer]fans."Adam Hyzdu, a Hawks outfielder playing his first season for Oh after a six-year journeyman career in the major leagues, still can't get over the typical scene on a road trip when the team bus arrives at a visiting ballpark or hotel."If our bus goes by and somebody looks up to see him in the front seat, they stop and bow and start saying, 'Oh-san, Oh-san, Oh-san,' which is the ultimate respect," Hyzdu said. "People lose their breath when they see him. They're speechless."The mere presence of Oh still reduces some Japanese baseball fans to trembling, as it did one mother handing her child to him for a pregame photo. Meanwhile, Bonds routinely encounters jeers and resentment at any ballpark outside San Francisco, largely because of allegations of steroid use but also because of a disagreeable, me-first persona."There are a couple of lakes and rivers in Fukuoka I think Oh can walk on," kidded Bobby Valentine, the former major-league manager who now manages the Chiba Lotte Marines in Japan's Pacific League.Oh, whose name means "king" in Japanese, typically dismisses any idol talk. He shook his head and smiled when pressed about the notion that many fans always will consider him baseball's most prolific home-run hitter ever, even if Bonds passes Aaron this summer and returns next year for one more season."That is nice, but I don't think so," Oh said.Waiting to comment on BondsConsider that response neither an endorsement nor an indictment of Bonds' achievements in the wake of the steroids controversy. On that matter, Oh abstains.Because Oh's words carry so much weight in Japan, he has chosen to wait to comment formally on Bonds until he breaks Aaron's record so he can properly "set a national tone" to interpret it, according to Hiroshi Kimura, the Hawks' public relations manager and an Oh confidant."What's interesting is if Mr. Bonds was doing steroids when they were illegal and caught, that would be an issue ... but [Major League Baseball] has not proved yet that Mr. Bonds has broken any rule, so it cannot be considered," Kimura said. "It's a record to be respected."Hints that Oh probably agrees that no historical asterisk is necessary for Bonds' pending record came in March 2006 during the World Baseball Classic, won by the Japan team Oh managed."Of course, from now on [they] should be banned and nobody should use [them] at all," Oh replied then when asked about Bonds and steroids. "But questioning people who used it in the past, who didn't really know much danger of it, is not really necessary at the moment."The topic may dominate talk radio in America this week, but baseball traditionalists in Japan are loath to weigh in with their opinions. Fukuoka team officials initially were so concerned about an American reporter addressing Bonds and steroids with Oh that they couldn't guarantee traveling to the Far East would produce a private audience with Oh.But moments after Oh spotted a "gaijin" -- the Japanese word for foreigner -- among the media crowd during a recent batting-practice session, he invited the visitor into a private office after extending his right hand. The welcoming gesture, quintessentially American and a departure from his country's custom of bowing when meeting a stranger, illustrated how much Oh wants the international face of Japanese baseball to be a warm, smiling one."The Japanese have a very pure attitude toward baseball," Oh said. "It's about respect. It's not about money, it's not about wealth ... it's because of the love of the game that they work so hard."No better example of the archetypal Japanese worker exists than Oh. He was diagnosed with cancer last July and lost most of his stomach, but surgery didn't keep him out of the dugout. As a player, he missed his father's funeral because his Giants were on a road trip.Baseball is not only his life's work, but his life. An indefatigable approach became Oh's trademark every bit as much as his unique, raised-right-leg "flamingo" batting style from the left side.Oh is often referred to as "the Babe Ruth of Japan," but in that way he was more like Lou Gehrig, Ruth's Yankees teammate who played in 2,130 consecutive games. Indeed, when asked about his legacy, Oh's answer revealed a man who always has identified more with Gehrig than Ruth."More than the home runs, I was proud of playing in more games than anyone else [2,831] in 22 years," Oh said.The choice to wear No. 89 with the Hawks instead of the No. 1 Oh wore as a player with the Giants underscores that idea. According to Kimura, the PR man who has dealt closely with Oh for a decade, the Japanese pronunciation of eight is "ya" and nine is "kyu." Together, 89 is pronounced "yakyu," which also sounds like the Japanese word for baseball."He wanted his uniform to say he was Mr. Baseball," Kimura explained.Just 'a normal guy'As the eighth inning started in a recent Hawks home game against the Swallows, a black Toyota Celsior sedan and its driver waited outside a private exit of the dome. It would make a quick getaway.Before Hawks players were done talking to Japanese reporters following a victory, not 15 minutes after the final out, Oh was off. He had changed out of his famous jersey and into a pair of khaki slacks and a pink shirt. An entourage escorted Oh out of the team's clubhouse, off-limits to reporters, down a hallway and out to the waiting car that sped off with him in the back seat -- a dignified exit worthy of the country's ranking baseball dignitary.Fukuoka, Japan's oldest city, is a humid gateway of 1.4 million people along Hakata Bay in western Japan. Oh lives alone near the stadium in an apartment Kimura says lacks the decor one might expect from a baseball legend. Most of Oh's baseball artifacts are housed in the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame in Tokyo or are part of a traveling exhibit that began touring the country last spring and includes the bat Oh used to swat home run No. 756, as well as the Japanese sword he used for batting practice.The rest are at his home in Tokyo."When he has the uniform on people treat him like a god, but when he's outside the stadium he acts like a normal guy," Kimura said.Unlike many celebrities and sports stars in Western cultures, Oh is afforded a rare measure of privacy from Japanese media. A drinking problem he wrestled with early in his playing days when he was a noted night owl around Tokyo is considered old gossip. The juiciest morsel lately had to do with Oh revealing to one reporter that he missed his favorite dish of Ramen noodles because of changes to his diet after surgery for stomach cancer that is endemic to Japan.The Japanese media have been especially respectful of Oh's space since his wife, Kyoko, died of the disease in December 2001 at 57. He has three daughters, but interviews rarely delve into any topics outside of baseball.Reporters are so wary of offending Oh that the dozen or so who regularly cover the Hawks meet in a circle after Oh's pregame and postgame news conferences to confer on exactly what he said so no outlets misquote him. The only scoops in the press room come from the chef serving rice."His private life remains very private," said Jim Allen, a longtime sportswriter for the English-language Daily Yomiuri. "He demands respect not for what he achieved in baseball, though there might be a little ego in that. But he demands it in a very Japanese way. Japan is as obsessed with seniority as any culture in the world, and Oh has more than anybody in baseball."That is not to say Oh detaches himself from an adoring public. When Oh was a player at the height of his popularity, as he described in David Falkner's 1984 biography of him, "A Zen Way of Baseball," he used to count the number of autograph seekers waiting outside from the window of his Tokyo home. He then would allot himself 10 seconds per person and plan his departure to give himself enough time to arrive early for extra batting practice.As the sight of Oh signing autographs and posing for pictures minutes before the first pitch against the Swallows implied, little of that fan-friendly philosophy has changed with Oh the senior citizen."I've been around a lot of professional athletes, and I've never seen anybody handle it as gracefully as he did," Falkner said. "He really understood what it was that was expected of him, and he took it on as a professional obligation. He kept a lot of feelings to himself and replaced those feelings with a warrior's grace in public."Early lesson in modestyPutting on a public mask has been Oh's reflex since his older brother scolded him when he was 15 for disgracing the family by throwing his glove in the air to celebrate a Tokyo high school championship that in Japan is the sporting equivalent of the Final Four in America."From that day forward," Oh said in his biography, "I never again showed my feelings in public."Indeed, during a 22-year career with the Giants that included 11 Japan Series titles, Oh stayed consistently stoic, while fun-loving teammate Shigeo Nagashima created a bigger stir among fans with his charismatic personality. The complementary combination, good for both sluggers, left Nagashima adored and Oh admired.Other details of Oh's childhood shared by friends and historians help demystify the most respected man in Japanese sports. He credits the inner strength that has provided the source of his self-discipline to being a surviving twin. His sister died when she was 15 months old and he says he draws strength from her."My story begins and ends with that," Oh has said.His father was Chinese and his mother Japanese at a time when the two countries were wartime enemies, a heritage that didn't always make him easy to embrace in some Japanese circles. He was once kept off a Japanese national team in 1957, for example, because of his bloodlines.Oh began playing baseball against the wishes of his dad, who wanted him to pursue medicine but who eventually supported his son's sporting ambition when greatness seemed inevitable.Oh's real mentor in the game was Hiroshi Arakawa, a devotee of Zen who successfully helped Oh meld the principles of martial arts with hitting a baseball. They first met by chance, as legend has it, when Oh was 14 and playing sandlot ball. Arakawa, walking his dog, spotted him and advised the youngster he would have more luck if he switched sides at the plate and hit left-handed."Arakawa was Charlie Lau before Charlie Lau," Falkner said, referring to the noted American hitting instructor.In Oh's first three seasons, 1959-61, he was considered a disappointment, hitting only 37 home runs in 351 games. Then the Giants officially hired Arakawa as hitting coach, and Oh's body and spirit, he would say, joined forces.Mentor and protege would spend hours at Arakawa's home perfecting the downswing, practicing cutting cords off a ceiling with a samurai sword, meticulously focusing on hand position and weight transfer until it became effortless for Oh.It was after one of those sessions in 1962, in the midst of a slump, that Arakawa suggested Oh dramatically change his batting stance to raise his right leg and snap his bat through the shortest possible arc.In Oh's first game employing the new stance, he homered. A week later, according to his biography, Arakawa told Oh he should consider breaking Babe Ruth's record. The rest is baseball history.Comparable to AaronOn Oct. 11, 1976, Oh hit his 715th career home run to pass Ruth. Less than a year later, on Sept. 3, 1977, a month after appearing on the cover of Sports Illustrated and with Aaron hooked up via speakerphone to offer congratulations, Oh blasted No. 756."He had 868 home runs in [3,114] fewer at-bats than Hank Aaron, so if the fences were 15 feet closer, who cares?" said Valentine, addressing a consistent American criticism of Oh's record. "The ball went out of the park 868 times, and that's absolutely special."Research conducted by Japanese author Tetsuya Usami showed that 191 of Oh's homers were hit 394 feet or farther. Another 286 were hit 361 to 393 feet -- legitimate home-run length for that era -- and 289 would have gone out of most major-league parks if they had been pulled to the right-field corner. Only 102 were less than 328 feet, and several of those might have flown out of parks with short right-field porches such as Yankee Stadium.Subtract those 102 and Oh still would own the title as the world's reigning home-run king with 766--11 more than Aaron.Oh played 110 exhibition games against major-leaguers and hit .260 in 338 at-bats with 25 home runs, according to statistics compiled by Japanese baseball expert Jim Albright. In the only head-to-head home-run derby against Aaron, an exhibition at Korakuen Stadium in 1974 near the end of both players' careers, Aaron edged Oh 10-9.Oh has acknowledged he likely would have fallen short of Aaron's record if he had played in America. Pitchers might have approached him differently, and the ballparks tended to be larger. But unlike today's Japanese superstars such as Ichiro Suzuki and Hideki Matsui, Oh never bolted his country for Major League Baseball and more money. Not that he never considered it."I felt all along that playing in the major leagues was something he wanted because when he played against them, he could hit their best pitchers," Falkner said. "But that would have been like Japan saying to America, 'We'll take the Grand Canyon and put it outside Kobe [in Japan].' No way Oh was leaving the country."Oh never even took a day off between the end of his playing days in 1980 and the beginning of his managerial career the next season.Still earning respectHawks pitcher Rick Guttormson was slicing some cheese earlier this season and cut his finger severely enough that he missed a start. In response, Oh called a team meeting to lecture his players about responsibility. Oh the manager tolerates lack of focus as well as Oh the player did, but part of that is the nature of managing a Japanese professional baseball team."There's no democracy with Mr. Oh," Hyzdu said. "When players speak to him, it's 'Oh-san' out of respect. You won't see guys throwing bats or tantrums after getting pinch-hit for. There is no garbage attitude stuff here. That's largely because of a greater respect for the game here, but a big part of it is [Oh]."The reverence toward Oh was obvious in each of the seasons foreign players challenged his single-season home-run record of 55: Randy Bass in 1985, former Cub Tuffy Rhodes in 2001 and Venezuelan Alex Cabrera in 2002.Japanese pitchers, aware of the local history these hitters were chasing, routinely pitched around them, which many interpreted as a gesture of respect for Oh. In the case of Bass, the strategy was so blatant that the Japanese baseball commissioner publicly criticized it for being "divorced from the essence of fair play."As a manager, meanwhile, Oh strives to make every day of the 144-game season like the previous one. Unlike their major-league counterparts in America, Japanese teams never take days off from hitting or infield practice. Infielders can take ground balls for up to 45 minutes a day, even before games, and Oh expects proven players to dive for balls at practice like rookies trying to impress the manager."In the States, if you see your superstar diving at practice, it's, 'OK, infield's over, get off the field,' " said Hawks designated hitter Brian Buchanan, a former top Yankees prospect. "Here they set an example that the guys making the money are the ones showing the younger guys how to work."It starts with Oh, who goes from station to station during the Hawks' pregame batting practice studying the swings of various hitters and offering reminders about technique. Lines crease his face and dark circles surround his eyes, but the minute Oh picks up a bat and swings to demonstrate a point to one of his players, it suddenly looks like 1964 all over again."I try to give them ideas to help, but most already know their batting styles, so I can only help a little bit," Oh said. "Not many ask much."But everybody listens, out of respect.Rarely challenged by mediaTactically, Japanese League observers say, Oh tends to overmanage his 28-man roster and make moves that produce whispers but rarely any public criticism.As one writer who covers the team put it, "Everybody knows he's a bad manager but is afraid to say so."For example, Oh called for a squeeze bunt during a recent game with the Hawks ahead 4-2 and the batter--a .290 hitter--facing a 2-2 count. He has been known to switch catchers in the middle of innings and get bullpen pitchers up five times to warm up and not use them. According to two reporters who covered those games, Oh wasn't asked about the moves afterward.The Hawks, who have won three Pacific League pennants and two Japan Series titles under Oh, continue to challenge for division titles despite his unorthodox moves. They have the league's second-highest payroll, and Oh is able to maximize his talent by setting such a high standard for effort."When he first came here 10 years ago, this was a really weak team, but five years later they were in a position to win every year, and it's because of discipline," said bench coach Koji Akiyama, Oh's heir apparent. "At first he was really, really strict. Now he's a little more relaxed."Oh never has been ejected from a game for arguing, and nobody will see him kicking dirt on an umpire or spewing profanity, as Chicago's favorite managers have been known to do. But he has a way of getting his point across. During a recent homestand, for example, Oh rode the umpires about balls and strikes from the back of the dugout during the series opener, and the next night the strike zone had expanded like Spandex."He's subtle but effective," said Nitkowski, whose big-league managers included Sparky Anderson, Bobby Cox and Joe Torre.Oh, Nitkowski added, is closer in style to Torre than to, say, Buck Showalter."Mr. Oh is not going to embarrass you," he said.Thanks largely to that approach, players regard Oh as highly as the rest of the country, especially Americans experiencing Japan for the first time. Oh gave Nitkowski an extra day off when his family arrived during spring training to help them adjust to their move. He also has been known to get out of his chair during team meals at Japanese restaurants to help Americans such as Hyzdu read the menu."Little acts like that help him maintain that he's just a regular person," Hyzdu said. "He hasn't lofted himself up to where others have lofted him. He has a very big heart."On this night, Oh's heart fluttered a little more than normal after Guttormson helped the Hawks hold on for a 3-2 victory achieved with pitching and defense. After a brief three-minute address to the assembled Japanese media over a cup of coffee, Oh tapped the left side of his chest three times as he made eye contact with an American visitor on his way out of the room."Tough game. It's a very tough game" a smiling Oh said in English.He wasn't complaining.</div>http://chicagosports.chicagotribune.com/sp...1,7192088.story
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (DevinHester23 @ Jul 12 2007, 06:29 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div><div class='quotemain'>Actually, I read a Tribune article on Oh last week, even if he had played in the states, he'd still be world home run king. 766 of his jacks had distance to get out here:</div>It's not the distance that is the difference, it is the overall quality of the league. In MLB he would have faced significantly better pitching. Why do you think that people like Hideki Matsui had 36.8 Home Runs per year in Japan and only 19.7 Home Runs per year in America. Ichiro had 14.7 per Year in Japan as opposed to 9.4 per Year in America, Kaz Matsui had 16.6 per year in Japan and 4 per year in America, ect. Oh wouldn't have hit 500 in MLB most likely.
Re: When Bonds begins to fall, A-Rod's stock will rise Exactly, he's only faced, for the most part, scrub pitches that wouldn't make it in the minors over here. The distance to make it wouldn't matter either, because well, some people in the MLB have the talent to rob those that barely make it over the fence. I'm sure some of those would have been robbed.
