He may be the ultimate Mariner, but when it comes to dealing with the media, baseball superstar Ichiro Suzuki can act more like a clam.

On Monday, Aug. 20, I was in Seattle to take in a Mariners game and, if everything went well, to have a few words afterward with the Japanese "rookie" sensation -- kind of like a sportswriter's version of an audience with the Pope.

Just over a year ago, I had also made a stopover in Seattle to interview Mariners closer Kazuhiro Sasaki. Big Kaz graciously sat down with me for about 15 minutes and answered all my questions, so why should it be any different this time around, right?

As I took my seat in the press box, I might as well have been at the Tokyo Dome. About 30 members of the Japanese media were scattered throughout the large room with a view.

Of course, one glance down at the playing field, with its beautiful grass infield, dispelled all notions of being at a Japanese game. If you needed further evidence that this was not Japan, that was supplied by the sight of Mariners outfielder Mike Cameron and Detroit Tigers pitcher Jose Lima both enjoying a little pregame catch session with their respective sons, and Seattle's All-Star second baseman Bret Boone standing on top of the M's dugout signing autographs for grateful fans.

For good measure, there was Mariner Stan Javier, complete with black biker boots and bandana, cruising along the red clay warning track on a bright yellow Harley-Davidson, much to the delight of his teammates who were doing some stretching on the outfield grass.

As the game began, I struck up a conversation with the Japanese reporter seated next to me, who was covering the team for a major Japanese sports daily. When I informed him that I intended to speak with Ichiro after the game, he shot me an "Oh-yeah? Better-you-than-me" look and simply said, "He doesn't like to talk to us much, but good luck."

At this point, I couldn't resist asking Sato-san (name changed to protect the terrified) if he was one of the journalists who prompted Ichiro and Sasaki to stage a brief boycott of the Japanese media earlier in the season.

"Oh no, not me," he exclaimed. "My paper sends me over for two months and then another guy for two months. I just recently got back here."

While expressing disappointment that Ichiro has not been exactly open and friendly with his native press corps this season, Sato-san said he did understand part of the reason for the players' frustration with Japanese reporters.

"Lots of the guys here (covering the Mariners) were not even sports reporters before," Sato explained. "Some of them didn't even know if Ichiro hit left-handed or right-handed, simple things like that, so that kind of bothered them (Ichiro and Sasaki) right off the bat. In fact, I used to be a crime reporter myself back in Japan."

(This lack of baseball knowledge was made painfully clear later in the game when a few Japanese reporters came over to express disbelief that the Mariners were having so much trouble getting hits off Tigers hurler Steve Sparks, whose pitches were clocking in at anywhere from just over 60 mph to just under 80 mph. I had to explain that he was throwing knuckleballs, which don't spin and are extremely difficult to hit due to the tricky movement on the ball.)

As the game wound down and I prepared to head down to the locker room for my date with destiny, I asked Sato-san if he had any last words of advice for me.

"Maybe don't ask him about any personal stuff."

Right, so I guess I'll just strike that question about Ichiro tying up a 20-year-old female student with a hotel bathrobe off my list then.

Rappin' with The Man

First stop for the press once the locker room doors are opened to the media is Seattle manager Lou Piniella's office. Piniella, never known as one to take losing lightly, is understandably pretty low-key, in light of the fact that his club just lost 4-1 and could muster only five hits off the confounding Sparks. Needless to say, I'm looking for a dead body and a quick way out because the room has all the warmth and coziness of a morgue.

Next stop is the actual locker room where the players' stalls are located. When I arrive, I quickly scan the room for Ichiro's locker and notice that it's located between the stalls of Cameron and reliever Norm Charlton. Since Cameron and Boone are the only two players in the room at this point, I wander over to where Cameron is speaking with a small group of reporters.

As Cameron bemoans the team's lack of success against Sparks, I notice that Ichiro has emerged from the shower room and is heading for his locker clad only in a couple of bath towels. Although, I've conducted dozens of such postgame interviews over the years, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck start to tingle in apprehensive anticipation. Here's my chance!

I quickly realize that, although Ichiro seems to banter away freely in choppy English with his teammates, I had better line up a translator -- and quickly -- since my Japanese is probably worse than his English and I've heard that he only speaks in his native tongue when addressing the media.

(Unlike Sasaki, Ichiro does not make use of a fulltime translator, most likely to discourage a lot of interview requests.)

I notice Mariners director of baseball information Tim Hevly and ask him if he has someone who can help out. He introduces me to the club's assistant director of professional and international scouting Hide Sueyoshi and we head over to meet The Man. Sueyoshi-san approaches Ichiro and explains to him that I'm from The Japan Times and would like to ask a few questions. Ichiro gives me a quick once-over and then a nod of approval. I'm in!

Ichiro spends the duration of the interview sitting at his locker stall applying Chapstick and skin moisturizing cream while I stand just behind his right shoulder with the translator to his left. I figure I'll start out with something safe, a question that shows I don't want to pry into his personal life and also something that lets him know I'm familiar with the game.

"You faced a knuckleball pitcher out there tonight. You probably didn't see too many knuckleballs in Japan. Was it a difficult adjustment to make?"

Ichiro, who had gone 1-for-4 with a leadoff infield single: "No matter how many times you see the knuckleball, it's always hard to hit. Whether it's your first time seeing a pitcher or you've faced him before, it's the same. It's always hard to hit a knuckleball."

So far, so good. Let's explore this just a little more.

"There was a knuckleball pitcher with the Kintetsu Buffaloes a few years ago named Rob Mattson. How did you do against him?"

Ichiro, nodding to a small pack of Japanese reporters milling about in a corner of the room (only one guy had the nerve to tentatively approach us during the course of our "discussion" to listen in): "All the Japanese writers know better than me, so maybe you should ask them."

OK then. This last response prompted some nervous laughter from yours truly, and I think I detected a bit of a smile from the Wizard, as his teammates like to call him.

I decide to press on.

"How do you think Japanese power hitters, guys like Norihiro Nakamura of the Buffaloes and the Giants' Hideki Matsui, would do over here in the major leagues? Since we haven't seen this type of player come over yet, do you think they would be successful?"

Ichiro: "I don't know about that. If they come, then you'll know."

Not exactly the insightful reply I was hoping for. Much like Cal Ripken with a late-season groin pull, I'm starting to sense that my time is almost up. I want to take one more shot, so it had better be a good one.

"OK, last question. With your success in the majors, more Japanese position players may start coming over now. If a lot of Japanese stars come over here, some say it may be bad for pro baseball in Japan -- attendance may drop, the quality of play might go down. Do you have any thoughts on this?"

Ichiro, after a long pause: "That's such a delicate issue, I'd rather not answer that question. I can't discuss (such a serious matter) in a short time, so I'd rather not say anything about that right now."

And that was it. With my buddy waiting for me at F.X. McRory's Steak and Chop House down the street and with a flight booked back to Japan the following morning, I guess a longer, more meaningful discussion on the subject was out of the question. Maybe next time. I said my "domo arigatos" and was on my way.

To each his own

I came, I saw, and while I certainly didn't conquer, I did at least converse (sort of).

Just because Ichiro Suzuki may one day go down as one of the greatest players to ever step onto a baseball diamond, whoever said he had to have anything interesting to say? And while he comes across as guarded and somewhat devoid of emotion to the press, who among us would like to have their private phone conversations tapped, or have photographers staking out their driveways?

But Ichiro is in another world when he's hanging out with his teammates and tossing balls to the throngs of fans who follow his every move in the stands. Ichiro is a man at peace between the lines, just one of the guys smiling and joking around with his Mariner mates before a game.

Seattle has built a club that is extremely tight and close-knit, a team with few bona-fide superstars and no big egos that has gelled and been able to put together one of the most impressive seasons in major-league history. A guy like Ichiro, whose aloofness with the press may quite simply stem from the fact that he is uncomfortable talking about himself, has been the perfect fit for a team which has lost future Hall of Famers Ken Griffey Jr., Randy Johnson and Alex Rodriguez over the past few seasons.

As Bob, the world's friendliest cabbie, told me on the way to Safeco Field: "Sure Ichiro's kinda quiet, but people here are tired of all those arrogant, trash-talkin' athletes we've had in this town, especially some of the NBA guys like (Shawn) Kemp and Gary Payton of the Sonics. People really seem to appreciate the humble Japanese style of guys like Ichiro and Sasaki. It's a refreshing change."

I point out that it certainly doesn't hurt Ichiro's popularity when he leads the American League in batting average (.349 through Aug. 28), hits (200), is second in stolen bases (40) and runs scored (107), as well as playing stellar defense out in right field. He's a shoo-in for AL Rookie of the Year and is also being touted as a possible candidate for league MVP.

Bob nods his head in agreement.

"The dude is a helluva ballplayer, that's for sure."