When the professional baseball season kicks off, various publishers release professional baseball player directories. I always feel a surge of pride seeing my name in those magazines, so I try to buy every copy I can find. The information is generally based on surveys conducted by the team. In the past, even family names and addresses were listed, but with stricter personal information protection now, such details are omitted.
The salary figures are usually estimates, but they're surprisingly accurate. For instance, my annual salary is often listed between 4.8 million and 5 million yen. It's a bit of a letdown—I don't earn that much.
One day, as I flipped through a directory, I noticed my hobby was listed as "making uniforms for teddy bears." I knew immediately who the culprit was. It had to be the guy who always comes to my room to chat. I should've confronted him sooner.
By the way, his hobbies are listed as muscle training and early morning walks. Muscle training is part of his rehab, and early morning walks are more of a duty than a hobby. Sometimes, he even oversleeps and skips them.
I do have a teddy bear in my room, and I occasionally change its uniform, which she sometimes makes and sends to me. But the idea of me sewing uniforms for a teddy bear every night is absurd.
Lately, Iida, Adachi, and I have been rotating as the starting second basemen for the second team. Iida is there as a backup in case something happens to the first team's trio, while Adachi and I are there for development. Maybe because I was too focused on hitting right-handed, my batting average didn't improve. I played in 23 of the 30 games, including as a substitute, and had only 7 hits in 50 at-bats, with a batting average of .140. No home runs or long hits.
If I focused on pulling the ball to the left, my batting average might improve, but for now, I was committed to hitting from the right. I couldn't seem to get a sense of accomplishment. The ball often flew weakly to second base. Even when I fumbled and trudged back to the bench, batting coach Narita didn't say anything. Maybe he'd given up on me.
Rookie Adachi was batting .222 with four home runs, while veteran Iida had a .294 average. I felt anxious, but since I'd decided to focus on hitting right-handed, I had to stick with it. I practiced my batting swing every night without fail, but the results were elusive. It was a lonely grind, knocking on a door without knowing if it would ever open.
Sometimes, I worried that I was practicing the wrong thing. Even when I consulted with batting coach Narita, he simply said, "Just keep doing your best as you are." Was I already on the offseason cut list? Such thoughts plagued me.
June arrived. On the first team, new foreign player Thomas Lawrie was mainly starting at second base, batting .273 with nine home runs, a satisfactory performance. Rookie Arai often played shortstop. Although Honda showed signs of age-related decline, he exhibited his veteran skills in various ways, finding a role in defense and as a pinch hitter. Even Iida, with his wealth of first-team experience, wasn't called up.
Iida's attitude towards baseball was exemplary. He gave his all in pre-game practice, frequently encouraged pitchers during games, and had a loud voice even when sitting on the bench. He'd been with the first team until last season, playing in over 500 games, yet he didn't sulk when mixed with younger players. Instead, he worked sincerely on what he had to do. There was much to learn from him.
One day, after finishing pre-game batting practice, Iida called out to me.
"Takashi, you've gotten pretty good at folding your arms and blocking balls on the inside."
"Is that so? I'm doing my best to hit the target."
"From the pitcher's perspective, it's easier to strike out batters who pitch inside and outside. It's easy to defend because you can predict where the ball will go. The most difficult batters are those who hit from all angles. It's hard to defend because you don't know where they're going to hit. Plus, you're fast, which makes things even more difficult. You're my second rival. Well, worry about it while you're young. See you later," Iida said as he left.
"Thank you," I replied, feeling a small hint of encouragement.
After that, every time I played, I made sure to bat right-handed. Though it didn't yield immediate results, I gradually started to hit the ball with more power. Little by little, it felt like the door was beginning to open.
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