#1 is here

Promise with Ogi-san

Like in 2008, when the team is in the top of the table in the second half of the season and we win in a dramatic way, it makes me feel uneasy. In September, we had three consecutive walk-off wins, but I always felt something was wrong.

That led me to take responsibility as a manager and hang up my uniform. I had been a professional for 29 years, 16 as a player, and 13 as a coach and manager, so the reason I didn’t hang up my uniform was because of a promise I made to Mr. Ogi.

I think it was my last year with Orix in 1995. We won the championship with the “Ganbarou Kobe” campaign. At that time, I had already thought about quitting. For the last two months or so, I was told by Ogi-san to go to the minor league.

“I want to use the young guys in the games. Please watch the young guys in the minor league. From now on, I want you to lend me your strength as a coach.”

He said. I was convinced and went to the minor league. I no longer trained myself, but acted as a coach. I think that Ogi-san made a way for me to say goodbye to the team. If Ogi-san hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t have become a coach.

Manager Okada shaking hands with Manager Ogi during an exhibition game in 2005. Photo by Kyodo News.

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I guess the reason I entered this world was because I had aspirations. It was a time when things like the major leagues didn’t really exist. Professional baseball was the best, the world I aspired to, as long as I was playing baseball.

When I joined Hanshin, I felt like I had achieved my goal, but the next moment, I honestly felt like I had entered a difficult position. I had been playing baseball since I was little and had always been a regular player, but when I joined Hanshin, I felt the difference in the level for the first time.

But I can only live on this path. I can’t do anything else. From then on, I just kept working at it year after year.