Rising influence

He was a kid away from home for a summer overseas, playing minor league baseball in a California farm town where his bosses placed him because there were a few more people who spoke Japanese like he did.

As far as Masanori Murakami knew, it was almost like an exchange program. The manager of the Nankai Hawks, the Japanese team that signed the lefthanded pitcher, was Kazuto Tsuruoka. "He came to my house and told me if I joined the team I would be able to study abroad," Murakami said. "I had no interpreter, obviously, I spoke with broken English, and I walked around with a dictionary in my hand."

Pioneer? Masanori Murakami, 20 years old in 1964, was an accidental tourist on an unexpected trip into history.

This is what the first Japanese player about to appear in the big leagues knew of the San Francisco Giants, the parent club of his minor league team in Fresno. He knew he shared the same birthday, May 6, with Willie Mays, the Giants' great center fielder. "That was kind of funny," he said.

What was astonishing, for both Murakami and the folks back home in Japan, was this: "I had no idea that in September the roster gets expanded to 40 players," he told Daigo Fujiwara, the Globe's graphic designer who served as translator. "All of a sudden I was told to go to the major leagues. It was surprising. I wasn't even thinking about the major leagues at that point."

Murakami turns 63 this spring. He is a television analyst for NHK, the Japanese network. Like many on both sides of the Pacific, he marvels at the journey that has taken Japanese players from the happenstance of his big-league debut -- he was essentially on loan to the Giants, winner of five of his only six decisions before he quickly became embroiled in a territorial controversy that ultimately led to his return home -- to the unprecedented high-stakes bidding for Daisuke Matsuzaka, for whom nothing has been left to chance. Certainly not by the Red Sox, for whom $103 million was not too high a price to pay to import him, nor by his agent, Scott Boras, the man who negotiated the kind of perks -- interpreter, masseuse, personal assistant, plane tickets, golf dates -- available to stars of only the highest magnitude, regardless of nationality.

Asian fusion is no longer just a choice of cuisine. It is a rapidly expanding fact of life in the major leagues. It goes beyond merely the geographically desirable -- Seattle for former batting champion Ichiro Suzuki and catcher Kenji Johjima, Los Angeles for closer Takashi Saito. It transcends the deep-pocketed clubs -- outfielder Hideki Matsui and lefthander Kei Igawa in New York, Matsuzaka and lefthanded reliever Hideki Okajima in Boston, second baseman Tadahito Iguchi in Chicago. It continues onward, to the heart of Texas (Akinori Otsuka for the Rangers), the foot of the Rockies (Kaz Matsui in Colorado), the banks of the Mississippi (So Taguchi in St. Louis), and the maple leaf of Canada (Toronto for Tomo Ohka). It even extends to a couple of teams not known for parting with their cash (Pittsburgh for Masumi Kuwata, Tampa Bay for Akinori Iwamura).

"I first worked with some Japanese kids in our instructional league in the '80s," said Devil Rays manager Joe Maddon, who at that time was with the Angels. "I was very impressed with the discipline and work ethic, those kind of things. I'll take the stuff, the heart, playing intelligent, fundamentally sound. I'll take that mold any time. I want our players to be that way also."

There were nine Japanese-born players in the major leagues last season who played professionally in Japan. That number is obviously on the rise, and the wave shows no sign of cresting. And it's not just the Japanese, it's the entire Pacific Rim. Korea and Taiwan are already represented in the big leagues. The Yankees have been to mainland China; with considerably less fanfare, so have the Red Sox.

"With so many Japanese players already here," Okajima said through interpreter Masa Hoshino, "it's clear the environment is improving every year for the Japanese player, and at the same time, there are so many examples of Japanese players succeeding, it's going to give the kid who is trying to make that jump even more encouragement that, 'Hey, this is realistic for us to do.' "

Who scouts Japan?

"Everyone," said Craig Shipley, the Red Sox vice president of professional and international scouting, who had to repair damaged relations left by the previous regime -- some Japanese teams denied him scout seats -- before he could pursue Matsuzaka in earnest.

The gold standard remains Ichiro, the first position player to break through, and in spectacular fashion, winning the batting title, a Gold Glove, and the Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player awards in 2001. Suddenly, those seven batting titles he won for Orix in the Pacific League carried considerably more weight than before he conquered American baseball.

"I have to pat myself on the back," said Pirates pitching coach Jim Colborn, who had coached in Japan and was the scout who steered Ichiro to the Mariners. "I called [his performance] almost to the number. I thought it would be in his second year. I cut some slack for adjustment, but it wasn't necessary. You can ask [then Seattle general manager] Pat Gillick. I told him the range of home runs, RBIs, hits, stolen bases, outfield assists, and average. My numbers were all right."

Two years later, it was Hideki Matsui, the Yomiuri Giants slugger, deciding to test his home run swing in Yankee Stadium. Because his games were almost always on TV, Matsui was much better known in Japan than Ichiro.

"The first year he had trouble identifying pitches," Yankees manager Joe Torre said. "He'd never seen a knuckleball, and had trouble identifying the two-seamer. But he's as good as anybody in working at it, being determined at getting stuff done."

Matsui hit the winning grand slam in his first home game, then struggled. It was clear, almost from the time he'd reported to camp, that he wouldn't be putting up 50-homer seasons as he had in Japan. Did he feel the burden of expectations?

"That could have been," Torre said. "You don't have the communication skills with him. You're talking to him through an interpreter, it's tough to get the personality. But he never seemed to change. Normally, body language will show you panic, and you never saw that.

"You saw some frustration, but he never went up there, without, in my mind, the ability to do the job. He's a very determined young man. Obviously, he had good work habits; they always do when they come over from Japan, especially someone as big as he was. I didn't realize how big he was until a couple of years ago and we were in Japan. That's when I realized he was Babe Ruth. The paparazzi and everything else was incredible."

So far, major league clubs have not penetrated the amateur sector of Japanese baseball. That may be changing.

"The day is coming," Matsuzaka said through Hoshino, "where you will see a Japanese baseball player come straight out of high school and make the jump to the majors."

It could have been Dice-K, nine years ago.

Clay Daniel, who was with Arizona at the time and is now an international scout for the Angels, told Sports Illustrated the Diamondbacks offered Matsuzaka $3 million to sign in 1998. Daniel's account is disputed by Joe Garagiola Jr., who was Arizona's GM.

"I don't believe that's accurate," Garagiola said. "I think I would have recalled a $3 million offer."

For Matsuzaka, the hero of that year's Koshien high school baseball tournament, the decision was clear. "One, there was the language barrier," he said. "And two, for me in terms of planning out my life, I always envisioned playing a few years of ball in Japan and then possibly jumping to the majors. Since I already had a plan in my mind set in place, I decided not to play in the US right after high school."

Koji Uehara, the ace of the Yomiuri Giants, began playing professionally in 1999, the same year as Dice-K. He, too, could have signed with a big-league team. The Angels, relying on the advice of scout Ta Honda, thought so highly of Uehara that they secretly flew the pitcher and his girlfriend to Anaheim, according to an industry official with direct knowledge of the negotiations. Honda was told he could offer $3 million, and go as high as $4 million. Uehara signed instead with Yomiuri -- there were unconfirmed reports that he received $7 million -- and while he yearns to pitch in the majors, the Giants have refused to post him.

Colborn says there are cultural pressures that keep a player from making the jump to the US right out of high school.

"When they're in high school, every minute of their day is planned by the coach," Colborn said. "The parents are supportive, and may help directly in some cases. With Ichiro, there were stories what his dad did. They don't think outside of the box. They don't think on their own. They're not allowed to think, not allowed to have a dream.

"They're a far more humble people than we are. They're not encouraged to be independent. They're encouraged to follow rules. There's a saying, 'The nail that sticks up gets beat down.' If you're an individual, you wouldn't play on the high school team. They push teamwork, being the same, to the point where they wouldn't allow a star, if different from everyone else, to be on the team. That's how important that ethic, that value, is taught in high school."

Thirty years passed between Murakami's fling with the Giants and the arrival of pitcher Hideo Nomo, who burned so much to play in the major leagues that agent Don Nomura devised the strategy of voluntarily retiring to circumvent a contract that bound him to his Japanese team for life. Nomo signed with the Dodgers and became close friends with owner Peter O'Malley, whose father, Walter, had long ago awakened to the possibilities in Asia.

As far back as 1956, O'Malley had taken his club on playing tours of Japan. In 1961, with the Tokyo Giants training in Vero Beach, Fla., at O'Malley's invitation, he tried to buy Shigeo Nagashima, the Giants' legendary cleanup hitter and third baseman. (In 1935, according to author Robert Whiting, the Pirates tried to sign Eiji Sawamura, ace pitcher of the Giants).

Before the end of the decade, O'Malley was wondering aloud why Major League Baseball couldn't expand to Japan. It took less time to fly to Tokyo from the West Coast, he reasoned, than it did to take a train from Brooklyn to St. Louis.

There was symmetry, then, in Peter O'Malley playing such a large part in Nomo's defection, a decision that fostered Nomo-mania in southern California while engendering considerable bitterness in Japan, where many voices in the media likened Nomo's actions to treason.

"I don't want to compare him to Jackie Robinson, but when Hideo came here, he was the only Japanese player," said Nomura. "He had to cross through a lot of barriers, and he had a lot of people against him. It was a tremendous struggle for him to overcome.

"I give everything to Peter. He supported him, he took him under his wing, he gave him an opportunity, he safeguarded him and made sure he was comfortable, he became his friend. But I have to say this about Hideo, and I'm sorry to use a profanity. He's got [expletive]. He is a different breed."

Nomo, who three times was a 16-game winner for the Dodgers -- twice in his second go-round with the club -- pitched 11 years in the big leagues. He threw a no-hitter in his first start for the Red Sox in 2001, and wound up his career in 2005 with the Devil Rays. He had surgery to remove bone chips from his elbow (his second elbow surgery) last summer, and even though he turns 39 in August, Nomura insists Nomo is plotting a comeback.

"He's not healthy yet," Nomura said, "but when he is, I'll start contacting teams."

The machinations of another Nomura client, pitcher Hideki Irabu, who challenged the right of the Chiba Lotte Marines to sell his negotiating rights to Larry Lucchino and the San Diego Padres without his permission, led to the current posting sytem. Japanese players are not granted free agency until they've played nine years, or sooner if their team is willing to post them with major league teams

But no one ever envisioned the posting system resulting in a bid as exorbitant as the Red Sox' $51.1 million offer for the right to talk to Matsuzaka. When the numbers get that high, only the team with the winning bid walks away happy. Consider: other major league teams resent how high the bids climb; the player is annoyed that money that is his is instead collected by his former club; and the other Japanese teams are jealous of their adversary's windfall.

That's what's happening in Japan, said Nomura, who was in Tokyo for the opening of the 2007 Nippon Professional Baseball season. Lucchino, now the Red Sox president and CEO, joked that he may yet again prove catalyst to change; Nomura, who as an agent has his own interests to protect, believes change must occur.

Kuwata believes there are at least a couple of players on each Japanese team that could play in the big leagues. Colborn suggests the number is higher. Nomura believes there are 25 to 40 players in Japan who could play in the majors. There will be significant resistance by Japanese teams to the exodus, he said, but added there are ways to redress the declining TV audience in Japan. "My suggestion is for a new league, including Taiwan, Korea, and China," Nomura said. "The countries are three hours apart on any flight.

"They have to find a way to survive. This would lead to a real World Series."

When Masanori Murakami returned to Japan, he succumbed to the will of his father, who appealed to his son on the basis of familial loyalty. He said that appeal wouldn't fly now.

"I wish I could have stayed," Murakami said. "It would have changed my life."