Bleacher Report - Articles by Katherine Burd

Japanese Transition from Hopeful to Hoped-For

Katherine Burd — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 13:01:06 -0500

Soon, MLB teams will have to build a separate clubhouse simply to accomadate the team's translators.

We see them in dugouts, at press conferences, sandwiched between David Ortiz and Daisuke Matsuzaka. Just look for the guy who's too old to be a batboy and too small to play a high school ball game. He's kicking back on the bench with a Gatorade, standing almost out of sight as their employer goes through an hour-long pre-game workout without saying a word to anyone.

Though most clubhouses have at least a few guys who, despite decades in the majors, still speak English with an almost unnavigable Spanish accent, American fans are unphased by the amount of "Ramirez", "Ordonez" and "Hernandez" t-shirts sold at Olympia Sports. You can say it with a New York accent, a Boston accent, a southern accent, heck, even a Canadian accent. So many organizations have Spanish-speaking players, they don't even need translators; veterans translate for the newcomers until they get a better hold on the language.

As the Caribbean influence becomes less and less recognizable in the MLB, no one can avoid the Japanese stars who arrive in America to sign multi-million dollar contracts with baseball's bests clubs. With them come the quintessential Japanese-American translator, thousands of small Japanese reporters with miniscule cellphones and cameras with more knobs than a nuclear weapon. It's an honor, really, to have these guys sign contracts in America; they're leaving behind millions of adoring fans to become just "good" again.

Most people mark the "Asian Invasion" to 1995, when Hideo Nomo signed with the L.A. Dodgers. In the years to follow, a few notable players signed with Major League clubs (Shigetoshi Hasegawa and Hideki Irabu, to name a few). A mere ten or so years ago, Japan was not yet on the radar of American scouts. In recent years, Hideki Matsui and Ichiro Suzuki have upped the game and the attention it receives in Japan.

Last year, the Red Sox (and many other teams) changed the course of MLB involvement in Japan. They actively scouted, bickered over, and eventually procured Daisuke Matsuzaka, the best pitcher in Japan. We now see Japanese players reaching every level of prestige in America: Matsuzaka, captivating press worldwide; Matsui not getting so much attention but playing electrifying outfield every day; even high schoolers in Japan are signing on with Minor League clubs in America instead of in Japan.

The thing is, guys like Matsui and Matsuzaka have got it made in Japan-- all the money, media and attention a guy could need. They're they Derek Jeter's and Johan Santana's of Japan. And Japan doesn't like losing their leaders, either (there are regulations in the Japanese league about how many non-Japanese players are allowed on each team).

Signing yet another foreign star in Kosuke Fukudome today, the Cubs are one more team entering the market of foreign-born talent that can't promise to make your team better but is much more likely to sell tickets to a Japanese-American family and overflow your press box.

It is undeniable that prestige players from across the Pacific are changing the game with new pitches, batting stance, and even tools (watch Hideki Okajima warm up in the bullpen-- he uses multiple curious contraptions) that diversify the game without changing it. The Japanese are making their mark on the American baseball industry, and with that mark comes the recognition of Japan as a new baseball microcosm.

Still, don't expect the MLB to become tri-lingual anytime soon. Success in the Major Leagues, for Japanese players, is still only attainable after reaching just about superhero status in their own country. The American public is still confused as to which one of Ichiro's names comes first; Red Sox t-shirts are emblazoned with "Dice-K" on the back, just in case we forget how to pronounce his name.

It looks like the translators won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Trading Beer for Martinis, Legends for Celebs: The New Yankee Stadium

Katherine Burd — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 13:55:51 -0500

The "New" Yankee Stadium is planned to be a $1.3 billion copy of the old Yankee Stadium.

Not only will the money-pit look exactly the same, it will be built directly across the street from the field where Babe Ruth played his greatest years, the home of 26 World Series Championship teams.

From the concourses to the latticework on the roof of the stadium, most of the main characteristics of the old stadium will stay intact.

There will be exactly the same amount of bleachers as there were before. The "average" Yankees fan will be able to sit in the same seat they've always sat in, finding the same hand operated scoreboard in the same place.

Kids will know exactly where to stand if they want an autograph—after all, the bullpen and dugout will be in exactly the same place.

So why are they spending upwards of one billion dollars to create the same shrine to baseball, without the memories of championship teams and MVP's? 61 luxury suites, outdoor suites, party suites, martini bar and a members-only restaurant, that's why.

The Yankees do not, as much as they believe it, rely on celebrities and the wealthy. They rely on their purse. They rely on George Steinbrenner's hideous check-writing habit.

Derek Jeter. World Series banners. Most importantly, they rely on a fan base that spans across New York, America and the world.

This does not only include the Upper East Side. It also includes the run-down houses of their own neighborhood, the Bronx. It does not include only the Tri-State area; it includes family rooms in rural Iowa and bars in Japan.

The Yankees are not, as much as they believe it, dependent on the approval of the wealthy. America's pastime is founded on hot dogs and beer, not martinis and 800-thread-count sheets.

There are some things that $1.3 billion cannot fix. Though Joe Girardi proved himself worthy of a top-spot MLB position with the 2006 Marlins, he is exponentially dwarfed by the legacy of Joe Torre.

Torre's imprint upon a generation of baseball fans is irrevocable. No one will be able to replace him.

But more than a billion dollars can buy a lot of things—namely, players. Sure, they've got the big-name veterans (Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera) and the organization-grown Joba Chamberlain. What the team lacks is the spirit of the old days.

Rivals no longer cower in the shadow of the Evil Empire. Roger Clemens' menacing arm has lost its shiny patina. Will the magic be gone forever when the hallowed batters' box of the Babe and Mr. October is no more?

At least we know that when the Yankees enter their "new" stadium in April, 2009, without having reached the postseason in 2008, we'll know it was in satisfying the tastes of New York's elite. Isn't that what the game is about?

Tigers Rising: Feeling the Heat from...Detroit?

Katherine Burd — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 14:57:38 -0500

Detroit's got something cooking, but not many are feeling the heat.

Heat? Well, there's not much of it in Michigan in February. The Red Wings are skating all over the rest of the NHL. The snow won't melt for at least another two months.

The heat is radiating from what seems to me the most unlikely of places: Comerica Park.

That is not to say that the baseball world does not appreciate the Detroit Tigers, who suddenly appeared in the playoffs in 2006. But, honestly: the Tigers?

My idea of the Tigers has always been somewhat akin to that of the Devil Rays. A Tigers series added three to the win column. Season ticket holders gave their tickets for the Tigers game to the coworker they like the least. I don't think I've ever met a Tigers fan.

Yet the Tigers, for once, find themselves at the top of the baseball heap. They are the second-richest team in baseball, trailing only the New York Yankees. And with all this money to spare, they have signed and re-signed with exponentially more chips than ever before.

Not only do the Tigers retain key players from last season (Carlos Guillen, Placido Polanco, Magglio Ordonez, and Marcus Thames), they picked up the option on formidable catcher Ivan Rodriguez.

Perhaps the most crucial returner, Curtis Granderson, was re-signed yesterday. Most surprising to me is that, though Granderson became third all-time to achieve the 20-20-20-20 last year, just one year ago, no one knew his name.

The youth-to-veteran quotient on the Tigers is reminiscent of the re-emergent Boston Celtics. And we have all seen how well that works.

Added to the roster are names that should have caused far more of a stir.

Miguel Cabrera. Dontrelle "D-Train" Willis. Edgar Renteria. Jacque Jones.

The perfect marriage of money and silence this offseason has catapulted the Tigers into a prime position to take hold of the league.

Detriot's got something special this year. If the young guys can stay consistent and the veterans do not disappoint, the Tigers will no longer be able to hide their heat.

America, get ready: These Tigers are prepared to pounce on the MLB and leave us wondering why we ever gave away those tickets.

Tears Aside, New England Moves On

Katherine Burd — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 13:13:57 -0500

From rural Tennessee, my brother called just after 10 p.m., the sadness more tangible in his voice than when he lost his first championship Little League game.

Eventually, the call broke up and I occupied myself with a pile of dirty dishes. The Patriots not only didn't win, they truly lost.

As macho as football players are, it is undeniable that there most certainly is crying in football.

As a devout New Englander, my excitement for this year's Super Bowl only grew as I recalled images of the many times we have seen Eli Manning cry, as a first round draft pick, drafted by "the wrong team", for example.

There is nothing I have enjoyed more in the past few years than the signature lip puckering of the Manning brothers as the likes of Mike Vrabel and Tedy Bruschi rumble forward. Last night, however, Vrabel and Brushi rumbled not. Instead, Osi Umenyiora seemed to do enough sacking for the both of them. David Tyree looked utterly Moss-like. Logan Mankins, Matt Light and Nick Kaczur missed so many tackles, even Wes Welker couldn't get himself open. At first, even the men in the room could not pin the 3-and-outs on Tom Brady, until the Golden Boy seemingly went blind.

Nearly 24 hours later, the drunken tears have dried. Parties have dispersed. Jerseys have been washed. Players have returned home, though it will be a short trip for the many headed to Hawaii next week. The front page of every newspaper, undoubtedly, has been stuffed in the trash. No one will watch Sportscenter for the next three weeks.

It may appear that New England is still crying. But, I assure you, every Dunkin' Donuts, every office water bubbler, every high school hallway is still ablaze with conversation.

This is not stereotypical Boston post-loss consolation talk, either. There is no talk of "curses". There was no Bill Buckner moment this year. Instead, Boston is glorifying the return of the Celtics and dwelling on the victories of October. The collective spirit of the area has not died.

As we speak, my mother is watching the 2007 World Series on DVD. All of Boston is pulling out their Red Sox jerseys for every player who ever stepped to the plate at Fenway. Sox tickets are already selling for thousands on eBay. After all, there are only 12 days until pitchers and catchers report.