Nicknamed the “Tornado” for his whirligig windup and explosive delivery, Nomo is blowing through National League line-ups. He has won six straight games, his last two brilliant shutouts. With a 6-1 won-loss record (not to mention three no-decisions that could have been victories if he’d had better offensive support), he’s a shoo-in for this month’s All-Star Game. Nomo’s unusual pitching motion – in which he turns his back to the plate, coils his wiry and superflexible 6-foot-2 frame into a ball, then springs toward home plate – is giving batters fits. So is his fine control of a sharp-dropping, 90-mile-an-hour fastball. “He’s got good stuff,” says Dodger manager Tommy Lasorda. “He’s for real.”
You don’t have to convince Japan. The 26-year-old was a sensation years before he left to play in America, becoming the first Japanese to play in the big leagues since Masanori Murakami won five games in two seasons with the Giants in the mid-’60s. In fact, his getaway upset many Japanese. But now that he’s winning over HERE, all is forgiven. The Japanese broadcasting network NHK has set up 18 big screens in eight major cities, including Tokyo, Osaka and Hiroshima. Thousands of Japanese gather to watch Nomo pitch, even though some games begin as early as 4 a.m. there. “He’s so cool,” says Tokyo journalist Chikako Atsuta. “No matter whether he wins or loses, he doesn’t lose his poise.” The country, shaken by a string of disasters, has begun to appreciate that cool, even seven time zones away from Dodger Stadium. Those Japanese who follow baseball, and many of those who don’t, see him as a symbol of something Japan does very well: play baseball.
It takes a lot to get noticed in Los Angeles, but there, too, Nomo rules. In a year when attendance is down in most major-league cities, the Dodgers are drawing season-high crowds when Nomo pitches. Tornado T shirts and blue-and-white Dodgers jerseys emblazoned with Nomo’s number, 16, are selling out. So are pennants with his picture and hats that say NOMO 16. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” says one Dodger Stadium cashier. Perhaps the most telling sign that the fever has set in: at stadium snack bars, more fans than usual are passing up traditional ballpark fare like hot dogs and pretzels in favor of sushi. Fans are even learning a little Japanese, “We’re trying to learn the word for strikeout,” said graphic designer Ray Barrows at last Thursday’s game, as he and a friend shouted “Sanshin! Sanshin!”
If it’s strikeouts they want, Nomo’s providing plenty. He leads the league with 109. He set a Dodgers rookie record with 16 in a game, and last week he topped Sandy Koufax’s club record with 50 whiffs in a four-game span. At first, players thought that when they saw Nomo a second time, they’d figure out how to hit him. But that hasn’t happened. Six teams have faced Nomo twice, and on the second outing, he’s won every time. “Everything he does makes you look real ugly,” marvels Pittsburgh Pirates shortstop Jay Bell.
Baseball has long been immigrant’s game, and Nomo conjures the American Dream of the pioneering foreigner who arrives here, works hard and makes good. “He’s sort of an underdog, and that’s what this whole country’s built on,” says Dodger first baseman Eric Karros. Nomo makes no claims to being the savior of America’s national pastime – or Japan’s national pride. “I just want to have a good season, and I want to have fun,” he says through an interpreter. His idea of fun? “When the team wins.” For baseball fans, weary of the talk of dollars and cents, strikes and lockouts, Nomo does make it fun to focus again on the more important issues-wins and losses, balls and strikes.
