You Gotta Have Wa: A Book Review

I still remember sitting in a small classroom at American Language School's head office when the gentleman training us recommended a book called You Gotta Have Wa if we really wanted to gain some insight into Japan. I nodded politely, having sworn off baseball after the strike of '94. My vow turned out to be more short lived than Pete Rose's lifetime ban from the game, and yet I did not pick up the book until this year despite intentions otherwise. Having read it, all I can say is that I should have taken the advice when it was offered all those years ago. The book may ostensibly be about baseball, but what it really delves into is the various shades of culture shock that arise when Americans and Japanese meet in the Land of the Rising Sun.

Whiting's knowledge of the Japanese game is deep, and his research is exhaustive. Despite his journalistic thoroughness, the book never becomes ponderous due to his combined ability to relate a telling anecdote and stitch them together in such a seamless fashion.

This being the twentieth anniversary edition of the book, the chapters are nicely bookended by an introduction and epilogue that fill in the blanks from 1989-2009, ensuring the casual baseball fan will recognize at least some of the players named. The second chapter provides a solid history of the first half century of the game in Japan, when the cultural differences were even more pronounced than they are today. The masochistic training programs followed by Japanese players during that time will widen your eyes, even as they illuminate how strongly pre-war militarism permeated baseball culture in Japan. Speaking of masochism, a later chapter on high school baseball may leave you wondering where the line between child abuse and discipline lies when you read of players thanking their managers for hitting them and complaining about suspensions for a manager who struck them with an aluminum bat handle.

I recall watching an afternoon baseball game played between two high school teams in Sakura, Chiba*, where every player sported identical crewcuts (unlike the vast majority of their classmates) and three small holes were worn in the outfield where each player religiously stationed himself. At the end of the game they saluted each other, then the winning team proceeded to engage in a session of field maintenance that would make a major league grounds crew proud. I felt a combination of awe and sympathy watching them. It was only when I found out from Whiting's book that players are often pushed in drills to the point of vomiting and collapse that my suspicions about the downside of such an impressive display of discipline was confirmed. Of course, my reaction is also culturally conditioned, for what we in North America might call "overtraining," sportswriter Kennichi Ishida described as something else: "It is our philosophy that only by pushing a player past his limits can he discover the power to surpass them."

Each chapter has an especially memorable story that stands out even in such a strong collection. There is former Atlanta Braves star Bob Horner's struggle with the four stage acculturation process (briefly: 1. Love Japan 2. Hate Japan 3. Love Parts/Hate Parts 4. Hey! I've just assimilated) and the double standards all American players seem to face ("You go 5-for-5 and you're ignored. You go 0-for-5 and it's, [...] 'Yankee go home.'"--Warren Cromartie). This is followed by the poignant tale of a pitcher who silently threw ten strikes on a tarmac before flying off on a kamikaze mission. Then there is the story of Sachio Kinugasa, Japan's Cal Ripken, who played 2 215 straight games despite breaking bones five times and having to practice far longer each day than any major leaguer (one player put it in perspective by saying that it was like playing a doubleheader every day). He was driven by the need to impress a G.I. father whom he was destined to never meet.

Perhaps what impresses most is Whiting's ability to so judiciously walk the line between the two cultures without favouring one or the other. In one chapter he quotes a number of Japanese teeing off on "violent" Americans for their propensity to charge the mound. Just when the reader starts thinking the Japanese might have a point, he casually lists a series of umpire assaults that have occurred through the years in Japanese baseball, not to mention the occasions when managers kick and slap their players during practice. In a later chapter on rabid Japanese fans (who I have seen cheer full bore from beginning to end of a game even when the home team has lost all hope of winning) he highlights a few incidents of violent behaviour that one would never see in a North American stadium. Yet before the reader has a chance to gloat, he drops a couple casual reminders of the security precautions needed in Philadelphia for the 1980 World Series, along with the riots in Detroit that followed their victory in '84.

Evenhanded, knowledgeable, insightful, making connections between sport and larger societal issues like politics and business--what more could a reader ask for? You Gotta Have Wa is a highly recommended read for baseball fans and people interested in Japan. If you happen to be both, consider it a must. The only question I have left is if Whiting has enough material from his four part series on Bobby Valentine to forge a new book on the state of Japanese baseball in the 21st century. I, for one, would put it on my pre-order list.

* Incidentally, Sakura is also the hometown of Japanese baseball legend Shigeo Nagashima, former star of the Tokyo Giants. I was reminded of this fact every time I went to Aikido practice at the Sakura City Gym where a giant photo of him at home plate hangs in the lobby. Nagashima was so popular that he was voted into the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame ahead of a player named Katsuya Nomura, despite having hit 213 fewer home runs and 466 fewer RBIs. As Whiting wryly observes, "Nagashima, the spiritual leader of the 'all-Japanese' Giants, had been able to see the 'heart' of the ball--or so it was said. Nomura had only been able to hit it."

Travis Belrose is the author of The Samurai Poet, a work of historical fiction set in 17th century Japan. Learn more here.