Once the new year begins, it marks the start of personal training.
December had been a month of rigorous workouts, and I eagerly anticipated the new year because it meant I could return to the dorms. My old apartment, a relic from decades past, couldn't compare to the comfort of the dormitory. Plus, the dorm had no cockroaches.
As soon as the New Year's holidays ended, I was the first one back at the dorm, ready to dive into serious self-training.
In professional baseball news, we often see top players taking their juniors to southern islands, or sometimes even overseas, for independent training. However, the reality is that most players do their own training at their team's facilities.
Of my draft classmates, four—except for pitchers Sugisawa, Taniguchi, and Iijima—were training at the team's facilities. Sugisawa was training with a top ace from another team, Taniguchi was working with another top slugger from the league, and Iijima was training with players from the independent league where he hailed from.
Among my classmates, I'm closest with Mitamura. Although he's a pitcher and I'm a fielder, we get along well. It's not that I'm on bad terms with Taniguchi, but since we're both fielders, I'm naturally more conscious of him. His long-range hitting ability is something to admire.
Long-range hitting is an innate talent. Being well-built and muscular doesn't guarantee home runs, and some of the league's best sluggers aren't much taller than me (I'm 175 cm tall). Taniguchi, at 178 cm, isn't much taller either, but his hits travel far due to his rotational power. His high school classmate Hirai, a big guy with strong back muscles, earned the nickname "gorilla" on an off-season TV program, so it's no wonder he can hit the ball far.
Taniguchi, however, isn't as gorilla-like as Hirai. Despite being muscular, he relies on body rotation for power. I wonder if I could achieve that with weight training. But infield defense demands quick, agile movements, and too much muscle could slow me down. The key to surviving as a professional is to capitalize on my strengths.
Takeshita, who joined the team at the same time as me and was drafted third, was training alone in silence. He didn't socialize much, instead focusing on repetitive drills like pole-to-pole sprints and hill sprints. He was a lone wolf.
There were high expectations for Takeshita to be an immediate asset. He started last season as the leadoff batter but struggled with fastballs, base-stealing speed, and sliding technique, leading to a long stint in the minors. Turning 27 soon, he seemed more determined than anyone else.
One morning, as Mitamura and I left the dorm for our usual training, we ran into Takeshita. Despite joining the team simultaneously, he was eight years older than us. We took off our hats and bowed. Usually, Takeshita would just nod, but today he looked troubled and said, "Could you join me in practice today?"
Surprised by his request, I could only respond with a "yes." Takeshita didn't wait for my reply and walked off in silence. I hurried after him.
We arrived at the warm-up ground behind the dormitory. Takeshita had set up two bases, placed the distance between first and second base, with two sets of bases spaced about a meter apart.
"Race me," Takeshita said bluntly.
I could tell Takeshita had done a lot of running to compensate for his weaknesses. His thick thighs strained against his uniform. We called over a team staff member, and with a clap of both hands, Takeshita and I took off simultaneously. But I was still faster to second base every time.
"It's still no good," Takeshita said, out of breath, hands on his hips.
"But you did a lot of running," I said.
"Yes, but I'm still not good enough. I thought focusing on sprints would make me faster, but it hasn't worked. If I'm losing to you, then I'm worthless."
That seemed harsh. Takeshita's dedication was impressive. He was stoic, taking almost no breaks, and kept his body moving continuously. I had been training hard, but it was difficult to keep up with him.
Takeshita, usually quiet, gradually opened up about his baseball career and personal life. He had attended prestigious high schools and universities in the Tohoku region but was mostly a reserve player. While working, he married and had a one-year-old daughter. He promised his wife he'd only play professionally for three years.
I could see why Takeshita played with a sense of urgency. I thought I was doing my best, but compared to Takeshita, I felt I wasn't carrying as much weight. In professional baseball, results are everything.
Back at the dormitory, Mitamura and catcher Haratani came into my room.
"How was it practicing with the monk?" Haratani asked.
Haratani, with his cheerful and strong-willed personality, often came across as carefree. When I told him about my interaction with Takeshita, he remarked, "Takeshita was really trying his best too."
"Yes, but every player is desperate," I replied.
I suggested, "How about joining us for a group practice starting tomorrow?"
For Haratani, it would be good practice in catching stolen bases. For Takeshita, Mitamura's fastball would be good practice. It would also help me cover the base, and Mitamura could practice gaining control. Mitamura's pitches were fast but lacked control. They were so fast that stepping into the batter's box was terrifying.
"That's a great idea," Haratani said.
"I'll join, as long as it's okay if we make mistakes or bump into each other during practice," Mitamura added.
We were unsure if Takeshita, the lone wolf, would agree to voluntary training with us. Surprisingly, he agreed easily.
And so, the four of us, began our training sessions.
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