TEMPE, Ariz. — Every morning for the past six years, regardless of how early Angels players and staff arrived at Tempe Diablo Stadium, they saw a crowd of Japanese media standing on top of Tempe Butte, overlooking the team’s spring training complex. This was not a leisurely sunrise hike. Every camera was zoomed in, waiting for the arrival of double-sided superstar Shohei Ohtani.
While spring training means early mornings for players, coaches and reporters, the group assigned solely to Ohtani made everyone else think twice about complaining about their alarms. Ohtani’s Watch began at 5 a.m., while most of the Cactus League were still asleep. There were no weekends off and no room to exercise: everyone dreamed of getting that one shot daily for the entire six weeks of camp.
“Good luck beating them here,” Angels third baseman Anthony Rendon said of a gaggle that typically consisted of 50 reporters and will swell to greater than 70 for Ohtani special occasions, equivalent to his first-ever spring training news conference, which the team had to organize a hold at an off-site hotel to manage the crowd.
“They said they had to (be here),” Angels bench coach Ray Montgomery said, shaking his head. “I asked why and they said yes, in case Ohtani showed up early.”
Ohtani’s enormous star and the attention that got here with it never calmed down. When he arrived in Tempe in 2018 as a 23-year-old Japanese star, nobody was sure how Ohtani’s talents as each a pitcher and hitter would translate. There is now little question that the three-time All-Star, two-time AL MVP, two-time Silver Slugger and Rookie of the Year is a generational talent.
Ohtani’s star power now resides 25 miles away at the Dodgers’ camp in Glendale. In case you’ve got been living under a rock, the Dodgers signed Ohtani to a 10-year, $700 million contract this offseason. If you lived near Tempe Buttes, well, the view became quite a bit more picturesque.
So what happens when the mountain is empty again? What is life like when the Ohtani circus leaves town?
“Someone said maybe this is what being in the Beatles has been like for the last few years,” Rendon said. “You don’t get used to (the attention), but you kind of expect it. Now it’s like being kicked out of the band.”
In past years, Mount Tempe Butte, which overlooks the Angels’ parking zone, hosted greater than 50 Japanese media representatives daily before sunrise. (Sam Blum / )
The biggest change, aside from nobody watching the band members getting out and in of their cars, occurred in the clubhouse. This is and all the time has been the players’ space. But when Ohtani showed up, this huge group of reporters made some Angels players feel like guests in their very own home.
“It’s nice to be able to get a little more space back,” Angels outfielder Taylor Ward said.
Losing a player with nine WARs doesn’t make any team higher. But it made them able to breathe somewhat easier.
“Sometimes players felt intimidated by the media,” said Angels veteran Carlos Estévez. “Some of the younger guys. They said, “I’m going to stay away.”
Pitcher Patrick Sandoval was one of Ohtani’s closest friends, but even he admitted it was a “weird dynamic” when Japanese reporters asked him one question about himself and then another 10 about Ohtani. If the cameras caught you even giving a nod to the two-way superstar, the media would ask you to talk about it.
“I always felt it (players were wary of us). We’re basically here to cover one guy, but we’re trying to get other information related to that one guy,” said one Japanese reporter who has regularly covered Ohtani for years, who requested anonymity to speak freely.
Angels public relations staffers, often inundated with requests, tried to rotate players they asked to talk about Ohtani, who typically limited his media availability to the time he was starting his career. Angels communications manager Grace McNamee, who speaks Japanese, took notes about Ohtani’s unique schedule and coordinated photo opportunities.
Now that Ohtani is gone, “I’ve never seen Grace so relaxed,” Montgomery said.
A year ago, there wasn’t enough room in the Angels’ spring training locker room to walk down the alley-like corridor. Now catcher Matt Thaiss and fellow shortstop Chad Wallach have enough space there on a March morning to throw the ball back and forth in makeshift fielding drills.
Ohtani signs and stadium paraphernalia disappeared from the stadium and the Tempe area. But don’t worry if you’re one of the thousands of fans who made Ohtani’s jersey a top seller in all of baseball last year: it’s still in active Angels circulation.
Ohtani’s number — the famous red and white No. 17 — now belongs to… drum roll, please… non-roster invitee Hunter Dozier, who has a career minus-2.6 WAR or wins above replacement. Dozier wore No. 17 for almost his entire seven-year career with the Kansas City Royals, and in mid-January he signed a minor league contract with Anaheim. A few weeks before spring training began, he began to wonder: Would the Angels give it up so quickly?
He received the answer on the first day of the camp. The 32-year-old utility worker emphasized that the number 17 has no special meaning for him; that’s what the royals gave him when he started his career.
Now, that number could make him look like one of the most popular non-roster guys in Tempe Diablo Stadium history.
“There might be a lot of 17-year-olds in the stands,” said Dozier, who has already been reassigned to minor league camp, which implies he won’t be on the Angels’ Opening Day roster. “Just don’t look at the name, look at the number.”
And don’t look too close to the left corner of the club.
Angels starting pitcher Reid Detmers was surprised when he arrived at camp, expecting to be in his regular locker – nevertheless it turned out he found Ohtani’s old spot, directly to the left of the clubhouse door. Each final seat in baseball clubhouses is often occupied by veterans and stars, providing ample room – they often use a close-by locker to overflow – and a fast exit from the media.
“It was kind of sad,” Detmers said. “But at the same time, it was pretty cool. Obviously it’s a terrific cabinet and Shohei was incredible. Amazing dude. You’re easy to talk to. Talk to him about all the things. It’s special to have his old cabinet.
At Angels camp this spring, we have seen ample parking, greater ticket availability and smaller crowds of autograph seekers. (Photo: Masterpress/Getty Images)
What quickly lost its appeal were the constant questions on The Man Who Isn’t Here. Angels players, burdened with Ohtani’s every day inquiries all spring, had much larger questions heading into camp, including:
Each spring, the Angels send players a survey assessing their dietary needs for the upcoming season. Without Ohtani, many players feared that the regular flow of Japanese cuisine would slow to a trickle, prompting the query: “Will we still eat sushi?” a standard query when writing. The answer was yes. Ohtani wasn’t actually the biggest every day sushi consumer on the team; that title probably goes to Mike Trout or Logan O’Hoppe.
Trout can be the only current Angels player who remembers Life Without Ohtani and the undeniable fact that Ohtani’s arrival in 2018 didn’t actually lead to more sushi or some other food at the team’s spring facility. Ohtani had a dietitian in Japan who communicated with the Angels staff early in the meeting. During the season, he often brought his own food. In Tempe, one of Ohtani’s earliest English phrases to employees was, “I’m good.”
After a disappointing 2020 season, Ohtani used blood evaluation to determine which foods brought him the best results and optimized his recovery. Timing was equally critical. Following a somewhat rigorous schedule, his translator Ippei Mizuhara regularly sent orders to the Angels kitchen staff in order that Ohtani’s food – a changing menu that all the time included lean proteins, vegetables and carbohydrates – was ready when needed, which was rarely during the players’ lunch rush . Ohtani’s schedule was so unique that he often ate with only Mizuhara and goaltender David Fletcher.
Still, Ohtani’s absence can be felt in the dining room. He brought Japanese Wagyu beef to the kitchen several times last 12 months to cook for the team. Many angels lamented the loss.
Potential iron deficiency aside, things are a bit calmer for the Angels after Ohtani. The parking zone at Tempe Diablo Stadium is ample. Tickets are easy to get. The autograph lines for players entering and leaving the stadium are sparse compared to previous years. The Angels’ lead security guard focused most of his attention on Ohtani and the crowd of fans and reporters that moved out and in of his orbit. Even Mizuhara often had fans waiting for him with signs as he exited the team bus. As one player described it, there’s much less confusion now.
“He takes that crowd with him, which isn’t a bad thing because of the way he handled himself on the field,” Trout said.
“I’ve never been around someone that big. “I don’t think baseball has ever seen someone that great,” Rendon said. “It was weird, wasn’t it? Lots of people were trying to find him in hotels and other places.
Now the eyes following Ohtani’s every move have shifted to Los Angeles. Just a brief ride, but a world away.
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