A parallel-universe editor might have titled the latest book about Ichiro Suzuki To Ich, His Zone, because that’s what most of Ichiro on Ichiro is about: that elusive performance-excellence “zone” some athletes—very few, actually—seem to occupy throughout much of their careers. Not that Ichiro on Ichiro: Conversations With Narumi Komatsu (Sasquatch Books, $23.95) isn’t revealing in other ways. Perhaps because the reverential interviewer is a borderline sycophant, maybe because of Philip Gabriel’s favorable translating, Ichiro comes off in the question-and-answer format as something of a well-rounded, thoughtful scholar- philosopher, not merely the most imaginative hitter many have ever seen.
Even those who worship the favorite scion of the Land of the Rising Sun might be less than captivated with each of the book’s narrow 242 pages (color-photo pages included). Much of the digression about hitting is repetitive. The personal details (he fought with his father, wept at his wedding, was hit by a car while riding a bike, etc.) wouldn’t fill a segment of Oprah.
What might surprise readers who have seen what appears to be a taciturn, detached Ichiro on the field is that he’s actually quite expansive, sociable, and approachable. (I’ve found it easy to elicit comments during locker-room encounters). He is learning Spanish as well as English, the better to communicate with the majority of his major-league peers. And he genuinely is concerned about how fans react to his performance. While he rarely has had to deal with on-field adversity, he says: “It’s not a pretty sight when you’re struggling. You don’t want other players and the fans to see you that way.”
Ichiro’s wife, Yumiko, evidently was at his side during the hours Komatsu, a Japanese journalist who writes about music, culture, and sports figures, posed her questions. Yumiko is quoted extensively during some of the book’s five chapters, but her remarks are generally benign, e.g.: Seattle is “a gorgeous city. I love the greenery and the lake, and it’s such a calm place.”
Otherwise, those looking for the key to the ongoing success of the man who last week broke George Sisler’s 84-year-old record for most hits in a season (finishing with 262) need only turn directly to page 94. There, Ichiro claims that enlightenment about hitting was revealed to him, ironically, when he hit a weak grounder to second base for an out one night in April 1999. That meager failure somehow spurred No. 51 to parlay his nonpareil eye-hand coordination this season into the greatest individual sports achievement ever observed by thousands of eyewitnesses in Seattle and millions via television in Japan.
