The Limits of Sentimentality: Ichiro and the All Star Game
“There’s very rare hitters that know what they want to do, and Ichiro’s one of those guys who knows exactly what he’s doing,” said Miami Marlins hitting coach Barry Bonds.
Bonds said in a recent interview that Ichiro Suzuki could win the Home Run Derby if he wanted to.
It’s not going to happen. The Home Run Derby isn’t exactly Ichiro’s scene; this is a man who once said, “I think there’s sexiness in infield hits because they require technique. I’d rather impress the chicks with my technique than with my brute strength.”
But Ichiro could not participate even if he wanted to. He was disappointingly — but not surprisingly — left off the National League roster.
He’s having a fine season in limited playing time this season: a .337 batting average; a .411 on-base percentage; seven stolen bases in nine attempts.
Ichiro’s not long for this league. He’s closer in age to Bonds (they even won their leagues’ respective MVP awards in 2001) than to any of his other teammates. He’s a potential Hall of Famer and played with a distinct style; we will almost certainly never see a player like him again.
For all its posturing about how “this time, it counts,” the All Star Game keeps some sentimentality. That’s why every team in the league is guaranteed a representative at the game, often with humorous results. That’s why the nauseating Derek Jeter retirement tour not only made a pitstop at the 2014 game in Minneapolis, but resulted in NL pitcher Adam Wainwright grooving his pitches to the guy.
It’s probably fitting that Ichiro’s career ends this way, celebrated quietly by the diehards, but it is a shame nonetheless that MLB couldn’t find a way to make him part of the midseason festivities one last time.
Since Bud Selig made the call to make the All Star Game “count,” (as in, the ludicrous decision to award home-field advantage in the World Series to the league that wins the game), there have only been three truly memorable moments to me.
The first was in the 2004 game, when serendipity gave us a starting National League battery of Roger Clemens on the mound and Mike Piazza behind the plate. Piazza, as one could imagine, still bore a grudge from the time Clemens hit him in the head with a fastball and also from the time Clemens threw a bat at him. The legend is that Piazza chose to tip Clemens’ pitches to the AL batters, who teed off on them.
The second was Dan Uggla’s trainwreck of a performance in 2008. It was perhaps the worst performance I’ve seen in any baseball game — he struck out three times, grounded into a double play, and committed three errors — with the added irony of having it occur during the league showcase.
The third and only one of these moments that doesn’t revolve around schadenfreude is Ichiro’s inside-the-park home run in 2007. It’s the first and to date only inside-the-parker in the history of the All Star Game, and what stands out about it on re-watch is just how casually Ichiro lifts the ball into right and how easily he scores.
It’s the work of a guy who knows exactly what he’s doing.