At 31, Fukudome is
starting a new life, largely on his own. His wife, Kazue, still lives in Japan
with their baby boy, Hayato. After Hayato was born in December, Fukudome
explained the origin of the name. " Chicago is called the Windy City,"
he told reporters. "Hayato means windy, healthy, fast and first boy."
Fukudome is constantly showing off pictures of Hayato. But when he moved into
his downtown Chicago loft in mid-April, he hung only one piece of art on the
walls. It was a framed photograph of his Opening Day home run—a snapshot of the
moment he had truly arrived in the United States.
WRIGLEY FIELD has
seen plenty of one-day wonders over the years. Most famously, Cubs
centerfielder Karl (Tuffy) Rhodes hit three home runs off Mets starting pitcher
Dwight Gooden on Opening Day 1994, only to hit just five more during the rest
of his major league career. (Coincidentally, Rhodes ended up in Japan, where
he's hit more homers—412—than any other foreign-born player.) But Fukudome's
staying power has nothing to do with the long ball. He will never hit as many
home runs as Matsui. He won't steal as many bases as Ichiro. What separates
Fukudome is his eye.
From the beginning
of spring training Cubs pitchers noticed something odd about Fukudome when they
threw him batting practice. He took an inordinate amount of pitches. When games
began, his approach was not much different. Most major league hitters, if
behind in the count, will swing at any pitch they believe is a strike. Fukudome
will only swing at a pitch he believes he can hit. The difference is subtle but
significant. "I just try to focus on the pitches I can handle,"
Fukudome says. "If it's an outside strike that I can't reach, I won't swing
at it. I'll just say, 'I'm sorry,' and walk away."
Even in Japan,
where hitters are well-known for their plate discipline, Fukudome was unusually
selective. His on-base percentage over the last three years was .443, .438 and
.430, tops in the Central League each season. This spring he tied for the
Cactus League lead with 15 walks in 23 games. And this season he has drawn 19
walks in 24 games, seeing 4.5 pitches per plate appearance, second most in the
majors.
Fukudome's stance
looks a lot like Matsui's, his bat pointed straight up to the sky, but his
swing is more like Ichiro's. As the pitch approaches, he inches forward in the
batter's box, sliding both feet forward and often swinging on the move. When he
misses, he can look silly, doing a full pirouette. Some managers might be
tempted to tinker with Fukudome's form. But Piniella managed Ichiro in Seattle
and knows not to mess.
Cubs hitting coach
Gerald Perry, who had the same role under Piniella in Seattle, recalls having
more concerns about Ichiro in his rookie season than he does about Fukudome.
Ichiro, after all, swung at pitches outside the strike zone. Fukudome does
not.
In an April 16 game
against the Cincinnati Reds, Fukudome showed major league pitchers just how
serious he is about working counts. He came to the plate in the sixth inning,
with the Cubs ahead 10--1, a situation in which hitters generally swing freely.
Reds reliever David Weathers threw Fukudome four pitches—two just off the
outside corner, two just below the knees. Fukudome took all four, another walk.
Afterward Weathers sat at his locker, shaking his head. "That fish ain't
bitin'," he said.
Fukudome does not
drive only pitchers crazy. Gary Hughes has spent 42 years scouting ballplayers,
and none tested his patience as much as Fukudome. When Hughes went to the 2004
Summer Olympics in Athens to scout for the Cubs, he had never heard of
Fukudome. But as he watched the Japanese team, he found himself drawn to their
gap-toothed rightfielder. Hughes checked off all the tools that Fukudome
possessed—run, field, hit and hit for power. The only skill that remained a
mystery was his arm.
It wasn't until the
seventh game Hughes watched Fukudome play in the Olympics that he finally got
to see him throw. Fukudome had to track down a base hit into the rightfield
corner. He gloved the ball, came up firing and in one furious motion threw out
the runner trying to sneak into second base. "Holy smokes, he can do it
all!" Hughes exclaimed. "At that point I fell in love."
As Hughes walked
the streets of Athens, he noticed a display of baseball cards in a hotel lobby
featuring many of the Olympians. Hughes grabbed a Fukudome card and brought it
back to the United States, where it has sat in his desk ever since. As a
special assistant to Cubs general manager Jim Hendry, Hughes immediately
recommended that Hendry sign Fukudome. But Fukudome was not a free agent, and
the Dragons did not want to post him, which would have allowed major league
teams to bid for the right to negotiate with him. In 2005 Hughes flew to Japan
to watch Fukudome. The following year he did the same. After the '07 season
Fukudome finally became a free agent, and he signed with the Cubs in December
for four years and $48 million. "I've never waited so long to get a player
I wanted," Hughes says. "I kept that baseball card in my desk for three
years. Now, I'm trying to get him to autograph it."