#Hideki Matsui

[eulaliasims]

Hideki and Leah dropped by to visit, and Leah promptly tried to steal Autumn's cat as they walked by.

Hideki: Psh, one poor report card from middle school isn't going to tank your college chances. Your father just gets a little too intense about academics sometimes.

Henry: That's what I said!

[andywayswhatever]

GODZILLA

[alog4]

(XユーザーのMLB Japanさん: 「#野茂英雄 に #イチロー そして #松井秀喜 といった日本人スター選手がメジャーの歴史に名を刻み、そして #大谷翔平 が新たな記録を打ち立て続けています。 これからの日本人メジャーリーガーたちがどんな道を開いていくか、楽しみですね👏 https://t.co/B9oKUFU3OG」 / Xから)

[gummyartstradingcards]

[chernobog13]

HIdeki Matsui thought he was filming a scene for Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla (2002).  Unfortunately for him, Godzilla was there to re-enact Deniro’s baseball bat scene from The Untouchables (1987).

[jinsei-pika-pika]

[nancylou444]

Oh shit.

Matsui 🥰

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Loving all the baseball stuff in Ultraman: Rising so far. Hideki "Godzilla" Matsui referenced in the beginning, the double meaning of "I stopped believing in Giants a long time ago," the coincidence of protagonist Ken Sato playing for the same MLB team that Shohei Ohtani signed with last year...

Let's talk about Sato's career batting average though. .420??? In our world, Ty Cobb has the record for highest career batting average with .366. Nobody in MLB has even cracked .400 in a single season since the forties. Baseball is unusual among team sports in that one dominant player can only do so much for his team (see the Los Angeles Angels' many mediocre seasons when they had both Ohtani and Mike Trout), but his ego's well-justified. (Also, it seems like he's only been Ultraman for a few months, but his need to keep his identity secret has added weight here; his achievements would definitely come into question if people found out he was a superhero.) 624 stolen bases would also place him 14th on the all-time list; not as mind-bogglingly impressive, but it's a counting stat and it seems like he has plenty of years left to play.

The line about having never won a World Series is interesting. Possibly the film is set before the Dodgers' championship in 2020, or Sato just joined them afterwards. The only hints about the year we've been given so far are that Matsui was still playing in Japan in the opening (his last season there was 2002) and the main action takes place 20 years later. Or: the film is set in a world where kaiju have been attacking for decades and I shouldn't be taking this part of it so seriously.

[ezrabridgerwrites]

samantha howlett;

The last time the New York Yankees won the World Series, you were a pint-sized nine-year-old anxiously chewing on the straw of your long-finished soda cup. Your dad had bought you a cap from one of the hawkers outside the stadium but forgot to tighten the clasp on the back for you, meaning that it fell down over your eyes every so often so you had to stubbornly push it back up to see the game. Mind you, the players were little more than ants to you, all the way up in the nosebleeds.

“These are the best seats in the house, Sammy,” your dad had reassured you. “You can see the whole city from here.”

Even though you were still a kid, you’d pretty much seen all there was to see in the city already. Your dad took you all over, going as far on the L as the dimes in his pocket could take the pair of you. Or, when money was tight and Joe from the mechanic shop a block over was too busy with repairs to watch you after school, he’d smuggle you into the front of whatever fancy car he was driving that day to chauffeur one of Manhattan’s elite around. So long as the visor went up between you and the one percent - and you stayed quiet with whatever comic he’d stuffed into your hands, always making sure to keep your sneakers off the dashboard - he got away with driving you around the city, shoving your head down and out of the sight of the window when he reached his destination and had to stop and let whatever rich or ramous client he had in the back out.

You know that wasn’t the only way your dad made a buck back then. He was always careful, but your uncle wasn’t. Loud-mouthed and too bold, he was always vocal about the next car your dad had helped him fix up for his dealership. Overpriced and with adjusted odometers. Not that you knew what the hell an odometer was when you were nine, but you knew they shouldn’t be tinkered with. Your dad would always shush your uncle, tell him to hush up before they both got into trouble, but Uncle Hank never listened. He always wanted people to hear him.

That game though, your dad didn’t tell him to be quiet. He was as loud as Uncle Hank was, even though he’d been voicing his worries to you across the breakfast table that morning. The Phillies were a sure bet apparently, and were looking to be World Series Champions. But you figured your dad had long since left those doubts at the kitchen table with the way he was acting now.

He was loud and jubilant and was smiling like you’d never seen him before. Not when he got a good tip, not when Joe and his wife invited the two of you over for dinner and he made you hand a bouquet of flowers over to Alberta that were bigger than you. Definitely not the way he smiled in that sad but weirdly proud way, like when he got called into school again to hear you’d been fighting with another kid who’d made fun of you for not having a mom.

This smile was full of joy, as was the resounding scream when the Yankees took the Phillies out at second base and cinched the title. You were immediately hoisted onto his shoulders as your uncle loudly yelled the happiest profanities you’ve ever heard spill from someone’s mouth. In all honesty, the too-big hat your dad had bought you had slipped down over your eyes about five seconds before that pitch so you didn’t catch that winning moment, but it was hard for you to care when you were higher up than anyone else in that stadium, watching Hideki Matsui get lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates, kind of like you were right now. The crowd was going wild and you were pretty sure you’d struggle to find another moment where you were this happy ever again. You know - unless the Yankees took home another World Series.

—

Suffice to say, they did not, and your cynical instincts had apparently honed themselves rather well at such a young age. True, you hadn’t meant to sound pessimistic way back then when you claimed that was the happiest you were ever going to get, but you were correct. You didn’t get to smile like that again and the Yankees never won another World Series.

They lost the American League Championship Series the year that your dad was arrested. Theft had been the initial charge when he was caught lifting from the people he drove from, pawning jewelry that he had stupidly thought wouldn’t go amiss to those making seven figure salaries in the Upper East Side kingdom that you only ever got to see from the tinted windows of a car you weren’t supposed to be in. But apparently rich people very much liked their things to stay theirs, and for their chauffeur to keep their hands on the wheel instead of in someone else’s pockets.

Then the cops went digging and during the raids you were left in the company of Joe who let you sit in his garage and taught you how to repair a bumper and laughed when you said you didn’t mind getting your hands greasy and covered in oil.

“Well, Alberta will,” he told you, fondly ruffling your hair. “And if you want pizza for dinner, you better clean ‘em.”

When your uncle’s dealership was investigated and those damn odometers became a problem, you realised your dad wasn’t going to be coming home for a long, long time.

“You can cry if you want,” Alberta told you kindly, wrapping you up in the duvet on the bed in her and Joe’s spare room. She tugged you into a hug and spelled so comfortingly of marinara sauce and Black Opium perfume that the lump in your throat nearly gave way, but your dad and uncle had always been of the opinion that people didn’t cry. Even kids your age whose dads were locked up in prison because his name was on the lease of his brother’s dealership. Even kids who would go to school on Monday morning and face the taunts of middle schoolers who would grow up to claim they didn’t have a mean bone in their body, even when they tugged on the braids of a girl who clung tightly to a New York Yankees baseball cap with a clasp that remained untightened through all the years she’d had it.

Eventually, further down the line, it began to fit you. When you visited your dad in jail, unable to bring yourself to reach across the table in the visiting room despite him stretching a hand out towards you. Maybe you were angry at him, but you honestly weren’t sure. Putting a name to your emotions had never really been your thing. 

It stayed on your head when you began fixing cars on your own with Joe. When you graduated high school and stayed with him and Alberta making repairs and scowling at customers who recognised you as Warren Hopper’s daughter and began to question whether the things they left in their car would still be there when they got back to collect it or not. You were too old for playground fights now, but Joe was always there to defend you. According to him, clients would come and go. But his business wasn’t a priority when you were a round, which was a pretty damn stupid thing to say about his livelihood. You told him as much instead of thanking him and telling him you loved him, but you think he got the message anyway.

You resolutely did not wear your hat when Alberta was buried at the Green-Wood Cemetery on a drizzly March day, but you did push your discomfort aside when you walked up beside Joe and slipped your hand into his, ignoring the dirty looks his flesh-and-blood children were giving you. They hadn’t been there when she’d been in the hospice, and they weren’t there either that night when Joe sat silently in his armchair, staring into nothing. You walked into the living room and gently set your cap on top of his head and he managed to give you the first watery smile he could muster in days.

You didn’t cry over Alberta, but you did cry over Joe.

When he passed, the sun was shining and you wished you could send your fists swinging at it. You put your hat in the coffin with him when they buried him and stood stoically by his graveside when they lowered him down next to his wife. You didn’t bat an eyelid when his daughter hissed something to her husband about you, something about handouts and charity cases which made it clear that she knew Joe had left the garage to you. You didn’t let yourself cry.

Not until you got back home. Not until you flicked the light on in the garage and realised he wasn’t coming back to help you with a leaky exhaust that you’d both fix together while his tinny radio spilled out Credence Clearwater Revival and you’d pretend to hate it while he sang along.

Then you sat down and cried, because it’s been a pretty miserable few fucking years.

And those damn Yankees still haven’t won another World Series.

[power892taktak]

Will 'Monster' work in Murakami Major League Baseball? Re-signing an annual salary of 5.6 billion won, the final season to prove competitiveness

About three Japanese hitters have succeeded in the Major League. They are Shohei Ohtani 피나클가입(LA Dodgers), Ichiro Suzuki and Hideki Matsui, who achieved "50 homers and 50 steals" this season.

"Superstar" Ohtani has changed the history of Major League Baseball by banking on his ability to serve as both a pitcher and a batter. He was awarded the MVP twice in the American League, and received the National League MVP upon his transfer this season. 해외배팅사이트장단점While playing for 19 seasons, Ichiro had a total of 3,089 hits. Since his debut in 2001, he had 200 hits for 10 consecutive years.

He had 262 hits in 2004, setting a new record for the most hits in a season. Ichiro will most likely be inducted into the Major League's Hall of Fame. No fielder has ever unanimously made it to the Hall of Fame. Matsui had 100 RBIs for three consecutive years from 2003 to 2005 and was awarded the메이저사이트 2009 World Series MVP. While playing for 10 seasons, he recorded 175 homeruns to 760 RBIs overall. Ichiro and Matsui are outfielders, and Ohtani is designated hitter.

[eulaliasims]

Henry made dinner for his parents and Granddad Hideki. :)

These two get along really well, it's cute.

Also, I have a hard time believing a sim this nice can be a grandchild of Clara.

[sethshead]

We’re only five years into the reign of the Reiwa Emperor, and already his era has a designated monster?!

So, as Gojiro, would Hideki Matsui be considered a monster of the Showa or Heisei Era?

[playdeepcf]

Tonight's #Cubs vs. #Dodgers game is just the second game in #MLB history with four Japanese-born players in the starting lineup; Seiya Suzuki, Shota Imanaga, Shohei Ohtani, and Yoshinobu Yamamoto.

The only other game to feature four Japanese-born starters was Mariners vs. Yankees on 5/4/07; Ichiro Suzuki, Kenji Johjima, Hideki Matsui, and Kei Igawa.

🇺🇸 ⚾️ 🇯🇵

#YouHaveToSeeIt

#LetsGoDodgers

[thursdaygarbageday]

Shohei: A Big Papi Story Sabrina

Shohei Ohtani :A Big Papi Story Sabrina

**The Legendary Showdown: A Tale of Shohei, Hideki, Big Papi, and Sabrina**

In a world where baseball reigns supreme, four legends came together for an unforgettable showdown. Shohei Ohtani, the two-way sensation from Japan; Hideki Matsui, the revered slugger known as "Godzilla"; David Ortiz, affectionately known as "Big Papi"; and, a fiercely talented young player with dreams as big as her heart.

The story begins in the magical city of Diamondville, where the annual All-Star Game was about to take place. This year, however, there was a twist: a friendly competition between the old heroes and the new generation. Shohei and Sabrina represented the new wave of talent, while Hideki and Big Papi brought the legacy of the game.

As the sun rose on game day, anticipation filled the air. Fans gathered from all over, eager to witness this epic clash of generations. The stadium buzzed with excitement, and banners waved high, celebrating the game's rich history.

**Chapter 1: The Opening Ceremony**

As the players took the field, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the ultimate showdown! Prepare yourselves for a game like no other!”

Big Papi stepped up first, his charismatic smile lighting up the crowd. “We may be older, but we’ve got tricks up our sleeves!” he winked.

Hideki, with his calm demeanor, added, “Respect the past, but watch out for the future.”

Shohei and Sabrina exchanged determined glances. They knew they had something special to prove.

**Chapter 2: The Game Begins**

The game kicked off with Hideki pitching against Shohei. With each pitch and swing, the crowd roared. Hideki’s experience showed as he threw a perfect curveball, but Shohei, with his lightning speed and incredible precision, hit it out of the park!

“Home run!” the announcer shouted, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Shohei rounded the bases, his heart racing with joy. Sabrina took her turn next, showcasing her skills with remarkable agility and determination.

Big Papi caught a glimpse of her talent and said with admiration, “This kid has got it all!”

**Chapter 3: A Twist in the Tale**

Just when it seemed like the younger team had the upper hand, disaster struck. The weather turned stormy, and raindrops began to fall. The players huddled together, unsure if the game would continue. But Sabrina, ever the optimist, proposed a solution.

“Let’s play through the rain! It’ll make it even more epic!” she suggested, her eyes shining with excitement.

Intrigued by her spirit, Big Papi exclaimed, “You know what? She’s right! Let’s do this!”

With renewed energy, the game resumed. The rain fell harder, creating a slippery diamond, but the players embraced the challenge. Laughter and camaraderie filled the air as they slid into bases and made miraculous catches.

**Chapter 4: The Final Inning**

As the game progressed into the final inning, the score was tied. Tension hung in the air like the clouds above. Shohei took the mound again, ready to face off against Big Papi, whose prowess at bat was legendary.

With the crowd on their feet, Big Papi swung for the fences, but Shohei, with unparalleled focus, delivered a pitch that sent the ball soaring high. The moment felt electric, as if time stood still.

Sabrina, recognizing the chance to make a difference, sprinted toward center field. She leaped into the air, stretching every muscle in her body to catch the ball. And she did! The crowd went wild as she landed on her feet, the ball firmly in her glove.

**Chapter 5: A Legacy Forged**

With one miraculous catch, Sabrina solidified her place among the legends. The game ended in a draw, but the true victory lay in the friendships forged and the respect shared between generations.

As they gathered on the field, Shohei, Hideki, Big Papi, and Sabrina joined hands and raised them high, celebrating their love for the game that united them all.

Big Papi turned to the crowd, “Today wasn’t just about winning. It was about proving that baseball is timeless. Let’s keep the spirit alive, young and old!”

And so, the legendary showdown became a story passed down through generations—a tale of friendship, passion, and the love of baseball that would echo in the hearts of fans forever.

#power

[mlbonfox]

HISTORY 🙌🇯🇵

Shohei Ohtani passes Hideki Matsui for the most MLB home runs by a Japanese born player!!

[blaze-n-rekka]

Shohei Ohtani 176th home run! Breaks Hideki Matsui's record of most home runs by a Japanese player

The Dodgers MVP Shohei Ohtani slugs his 176th home run, breaking Hideki Matsui’s record as Japanese player with the most home runs. Way to go! Although it took a little while getting there, first tying Matsui back on April 13 until he officially broke the record, he finally hit his 176th home run during the game against the Mets on Sunday, a slugger which was reported to have an exit velocity of…