Ichiro Suzuki Is Going to the Hall of Fame
Once up on a time, not that long ago, I was a baseball writer. And before that, I was a baseball fan. But it doesn't take much of a writer, or even much of a fan, to know that Ichiro Suzuki, who was voted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame on Tuesday afternoon, was more than deserving of the honor.
Writers will point to importance of Ichiro’s groundbreaking career—a culture-shifting superstar in both Japan and the United States, who between the two countries collected more hits than any professional player. They will talk about his style: graceful and cool and impossible to properly imitate. They will talk about the consistency of his performance year after year after year. And some folks will get mad about the fact that his election into Cooperstown is not unanimous. (One silly voter decided to make a point and leave him off their ballot.)
But worrying about that one voter misses the point. And honestly, so does all the big picture analysis. Looking at any career from 10,000 feet, with the kind of emotional distance that writing Hall of Fame plaques requires, it's easy to miss the individual moments of beauty that it is actually made of. The moments that make baseball something you feel rather than see. And if Ichiro was capable of anything on the field, it was making you feel something. Three of the best in-person moments of my baseball-watching life came here in Seattle, watching Ichiro over the course of almost 20 years. I can even track my life by Ichiro moments. I'm grateful for them. I'm grateful for him. Here they are:
Hit King
October 1, 2004
I had just moved to Seattle the month before, and my friend Josh invited me to this game at the last minute. Late in the year, the Mariners were already out of contention, but the ballpark was sold out. Ichiro was sitting on 256 hits for the season—one behind George Sisler for the all-time record—and he didn't waste any time. He tied the record in the first inning with a ground ball past the third baseman. He broke it in the third. Bonus: This game also featured the final two hits of Edgar Martinez's Hall of Fame career.
Walk-Off
September 18, 2009
This one is a blur, as were my early 20s. I was watching from the pen in center field as the Mariners trailed the Yankees 2–1 entering the bottom of the ninth inning of what can only be called a classic Felix Hernández performance. Felix had tossed nine spectacular innings against baseball's best team, only to find his team losing when Ichiro stepped up to bat against Mariano Rivera, the best closer in baseball history, with a runner on second base and two outs. He sent the first pitch into the bleachers for a walk-off home run and did a hilarious (and out-of-character) crotch chop before crossing home plate.
One More Memory
March 31, 2018
This was Ichiro's last full season in the majors (though he did not technically retire until March 2019, after Seattle's series in Japan) and the first big league game we took our son Clay to watch. At this point Ichiro was 44 years old, and his career had become a sort of personal quest that transcended baseball itself. He was a few steps slower and, for that reason, had been moved to left field. And yet in the top of the third inning, he managed to take my breath away the way only he could: He tracked a high drive by Cleveland's José Ramirez back to the wall and, leaping into it, stole a home run. Clay still loves baseball. I like to think this is part of why.
