The Joe Sheehan Newsletter:
Independence
Vol. 15, No. 61
July 4, 2023
It was 247 years ago today that some guys in wigs put quill to parchment and said to England, “Thanks, we got this.” From that day, the nascent United States of America, as flawed as it was boundless, would take on that spirit of independence as its identity, imbuing its citizens with the belief that they could do anything, and do it all by themselves.
So on this summer day a dozen generations later, we celebrate by gathering in the sun, by scarfing down grilled meats, by tipping back cold beverages, by dipping ourselves in the backyard pool or along the ocean’s edge. We honor the ideals, if not all the practices, of those men who came together in Philadelphia to dissolve political bands, to declare self-evident beliefs, to deem themselves as from free and independent states.
As we enjoy the brats and brewskis and beach chairs, though, let’s take a second to acknowledge someone who has lived the American ideal of independence as much as anyone ever has, and in doing so turned himself into the most compelling figure in the modern sports world while playing America’s pastime.
Shohei Ohtani.
More than a decade ago, when he was a skinny teenager who hadn’t even reached the prestigious
Koshien tournament, Ohtani declared his intention to bypass a career in NPB for a career in the majors, something that
just three players had done before, none with much success. Despite Ohtani requesting that no NPB teams draft him, the Nippon Ham Fighters did, and they eventually signed him in part by promising him the opportunity to be a two-way player. Ohtani, who had U.S. teams beating down his door at 18 years old, instead stayed in Japan because he could carve a new path, a new greatness, a new way to be a baseball star.
It didn’t take immediately. The teenaged Ohtani was a poor hitter and a middling pitcher in his first pro season. In his second year, he had an 842 OPS and a 2.61 ERA, then faltered again at the plate in 2015, at just 20 years old. Ohtani, at an age when many top U.S. prospects are college sophomores, was dealing with success and failure at the highest level of the top league in his nation. He wasn’t a star yet, but he was a two-way player, his independent streak having invented this new thing.
In 2016, he made the leap, winning the NPB Pacific League MVP with a .322/.416/.588 batting line and a 1.86 ERA in 140 innings. His 2017 season would be limited by an ankle injury, Ohtani throwing just 26 1/3 innings even as he asked to be posted -- made available to MLB teams -- at the end of the year.
The new posting rules gave Ohtani the freedom to ask not just for money, but to be allowed to continue on his path, to insist that any team signing him treat him as a two-way player. The Angels made that commitment, even though their new player was quickly diagnosed with a strained right UCL that would eventually require Tommy John surgery.
It’s important to remember that for Ohtani’s first three seasons Stateside, he was more myth than man. Limited by the elbow injury and surgery to just 53 1/3 innings, and showing steadily declining performance at the plate, it was hardly unreasonable, just 2 1/2 years ago, to see in Ohtani’s experience arrogance and folly. One devilishly handsome columnist had seen enough as camps opened in 2021:
“I’ve been heard on the matter of Shohei Ohtani. It’s too hard to be a two-way regular in the major leagues, mostly because it’s incredibly hard to just be a one-way regular. Doing so in Japan was easier because the travel and scheduling demands were far less daunting, and the level of competition wasn’t quite as good. Ohtani has thrown 79 2/3 innings in the last four seasons. He’s undergone Tommy John surgery. He’s now three years into his MLB career, and he has been worth six wins in that time. I don’t care, at this point, whether he’s a pitcher or a hitter; I just care that we get to see him as a baseball player, and not a stunt.”
Ohtani was not giving up, however, nor were the Angels. Four days into the 2021 season, baseball’s comeback campaign was underway, with fans in the stands and a national audience watching the Angels and White Sox on ESPN. In the top of the first, Ohtani hit 100 mph with three fastballs, striking out one batter. In the bottom of the first, Ohtani turned around a 97-mph fastball by Dylan Cease at 115 for a 451-foot homer.
Baseball has not been, and may never be, the same. For 2 1/2 years, one man has been both one of the best hitters in the sport, and one of the best pitchers. Babe Ruth, our standard for two-way excellence, never came close to that. The two-way greats of the Negro Leagues, Double Duty Radcliffe and Bullet Rogan and Leon Day, have a greater claim than Ruth on extended two-way greatness, though we’re only piecing the numbers together now. None of those stars, however, played in the modern game. Ohtani is the best hitter in baseball this year against the nastiest cohort of pitchers who have ever lived, and one of the best pitchers against the strongest, best-trained hitters to ever dig into the box. He is one of one.
The numbers aren’t enough. The numbers, honestly, don’t matter. Ohtani sits on a different scale, one orthogonal to how we think of the performance of baseball players. His accomplishments confound WAR, render it as useless as RBI or shoe size or Win Shares. Ohtani’s comps won’t surround him in Seattle next week; they’re not even on the pages of Baseball Reference, no matter how hard we click.
No, Ohtani’s greatness cries out for broader comparisons. Maybe he’s Michael Jordan, at his peak a devastating one-on-one scorer and a lockdown defender. Maybe he’s Stevie Wonder, winning three straight Album of the Year Awards from 1974 to 1977 while making music at a level few have ever reached. Maybe the comp is Al Pacino banging out “The Godfather,” “Serpico,” “The Godfather II,” and “Dog Day Afternoon” in four years in the early 1970s. The Beatles with every song in the top five in the spring of ’64. You’d no more use WAR to describe Ohtani than you’d use beats per minute to describe “Can’t Buy Me Love.”
This afternoon in San Diego, Shohei Ohtani will come to the plate in the first inning, a fireworks show in gray and red, bringing the power that the likes of Aaron Judge and Bryce Harper do. Minutes later, he’ll walk to the mound in the bottom of the first, carrying with him nasty fastballs and diving splitters that recall Roger Clemens at his best. He’ll do this because a decade ago, he said to the baseball world, “Thanks, I got this,” and backed it up at every step of the way.
This July 4, what better way to celebrate America than to watch Shohei Ohtani display the awesome power of independence.
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