Ichiro nears milestone

Ichiro Suzuki's hits usually travel no more than a couple hundred feet, but his fifth one from now will circle the globe.

The Mariners' hypnotic batting machine finds himself in Canada, in a neutral country, seeking a team-created milestone built largely in the U.S. and Japan -- his 3,000th hit as a pro baseball player.

When that happens, possibly coming in one of the next three games he plays in Toronto, no official record will be broken or promoted, but there will be desired benefits on multiple fronts.

Attention will be momentarily diverted from a horrendous Mariners season turning worse each week. More importantly to Ichiro, more respect should be afforded the game in his homeland.

"For me I know it's tough to get hits in Japan and it's tough to get hits in the United States," he said through an interpreter Wednesday at Safeco Field. "It's real tough, because I've experienced it. Some people in the United States think Japanese players play with metal bats and that's disappointing."

He has 2,995 hits and counting, with 1,717 of them coming in not quite eight seasons in Seattle, reaching the latter number faster than any other major leaguer before him.

All he wants is some sort of acknowledgement that his first 1,278 hits did not come cheaply.

"I'm not expecting much, but I hope people realize Japanese professional baseball is not (played) with metal bats," he said, seated in a chair in front of a cubicle, legs crossed, considering the subject studiously.

The Japanese media contingent that follows Ichiro will increase from 10 reporters to roughly 30 who will send dispatches back to the Asian country as the countdown resumes. Only one other Japanese pro player, Isao Harimoto, has reached this level, topping out at 3,085.

"It's a pretty rare thing," said Masa Niwa, an online reporter for MajorJP, the Japanese version of MLB.com. "It's a pretty big deal."

Said Mariners catcher Kenji Johjima: "This means a lot to myself. It's an honor."

For those who want to emulate this player, they should think again. Ichiro is a rigidly meticulous man with some strange tastes. Or have you not seen his shocking pink underwear briefs, folded neatly on a hanger in his Safeco dressing area, or the black T-shirt with the pink skull on it that he pulled on later? Consider the routine leading up to his second at-bat in Wednesday's 12th-inning 6-3 loss to the Boston Red Sox:

Entering the on-deck circle, he took two looping swings. He adjusted his right batting glove and then the protective shield covering his right elbow. He swung the bat with one hand with each hand. He tapped the ground with his bat. He tugged at the elbow pad again. He looked at his bat. He took two two-handed swings. He took two one-handed swings. He pulled at his pants. He readjusted both batting gloves. He readjusted the elbow pad. He tapped the top of his helmet with his right hand. He took two more swings. He strode to the plate. He stopped and swung twice more. He squatted. He dug his cleats into the dirt at home plate. He held his bat in his customary way with one hand, aimed at the pitcher, like a viper ready to strike.

It was finally time to hit. To get to that point, it was a lot like watching a bird craft a nest, a bee create a hive or an ant build an anthill. The monotony is enough to drive any pitcher crazy.

Asked about his previous batting coaches and what they might be thinking as this clever slap hitter closes in on No. 3,000, Ichiro wasn't readily prepared to share any credit.

"It's not a question I want to answer," he said. "A player has to be able to coach himself and manage himself. If you're not able to do this, you're not able to become a good player."

Nor is the Mariners right fielder, now 34, willing to get too far ahead of himself as he rifles balls over the heads of opposing infields and occasionally farther than that.

He was asked if he's capable of collecting 3,000 hits in the major leagues alone, which would require at least six more seasons if he can maintain his current hitting prowess into advancing years. There are 27 big leaguers, all retired and nearly a half-dozen no longer living, who have reached that gilded barrier.

"I don't know," said Ichiro, who already has gray flecks protruding from his bristly, black hair. "That's too far in the future."

Some people don't think so. While in New York for the All-Star Game, Ichiro was described by one big league scout as having lost bat speed, as having started his descent into decline.

Quizzed about this, Ichiro seemed more humored by this suggestion than offended by it.

"They like to say different subjects to stir different emotions, to create entertainment," he said. "There are many things out there that would want to drag you down, many enemies, especially when you're on a losing team. The only thing that's important is to fight those things."

Asked again if that's a no to his critics, Ichiro took a healthier swing at the question. Mulling the attack on what he does best, on his ability to smack a baseball fair over and over, on a talent that has brought him close to 3,000 hits on two continents, this proficient batsman alternately held his chin in his hand and ran his hand through his hair.

Ichiro finally laughed loudly as he rattled off an animated answer in Japanese that was broken down in this manner:

"I guess it's hard to comment on my bat speed because I've never measured my bat speed. But anybody in practice could pretty much tell there's no change in that. If somebody wants to say that, all I can say is, 'Sorry.' "