Yukihiro Shimura all the time arrives first. He quietly puts on his baseball uniform. He rakes the earth thoughtfully. Collects coconut shells and dog droppings. And finally, when he finishes, he bows to the one baseball field in Rio de Janeiro.
Then his disparate team begins to form, including a geologist, a graphic designer, an English teacher, a movie school student, a voice actor and a motorbike supplier. Most are of their 20s and 30s, and a few are still learning the fundamentals of throwing, catching and swinging a bat.
This was not what Mr. Shimura had imagined when he signed up for this concert. “In my opinion, the age range will be 15 to 18,” he said. – I must have asked.
For the past 20 years, Shimura, 53, has been certainly one of Japan’s top highschool baseball coaches. Now he’s greater than 10,000 miles from home on a two-year mission from the Japanese government to spread the gospel of baseball.
The challenge is that Japan sent him to the land of soccer.
Even though Brazil is the biggest country in Latin America – a region that has fueled baseball’s growth in recent many years – Brazil is amazed by the game. Brazilians say that compared to their national pastime, baseball has too many rules, an excessive amount of equipment and an excessive amount of hanging around.
As a result, although many Brazilians wear New York Yankees caps, they often do not know that the insignia represents the famous Bronx baseball team. And as Major League Baseball begins one other season within the United States on Thursday, many Brazilians actually view baseball as a largely Japanese sport.
That’s because most individuals who play baseball here belong to the world’s largest Japanese diaspora, estimated by the Japanese government to number about two million Japanese immigrants to Brazil and their descendants, a community that began with labor migration within the early twentieth century. It’s also because Mr. Shimura is the most recent in a protracted line of Japanese coaches who’ve come to Brazil to teach baseball.
The trainers are hired through a Japanese government program that sends Japanese experts and money world wide to support infrastructure and environmental projects, in addition to teaching cultural exports similar to Japanese cuisine, language and kendo.
There are nine baseball coaches in Brazil’s current group. As usual, almost everyone seems to be in São Paulo, home to the biggest Japanese community outside Japan.
“I was really surprised that the level of baseball in Brazil is quite high,” Mr. Shimura said, noting that Brazil’s national baseball team finished surprisingly second on the Pan American Games last 12 months. “But that’s only in São Paulo.”
Mr. Shimura was not assigned there. Instead, he’s this system’s second Japanese coach within the Brazilian mecca of samba and soccer: Rio.
Mr. Shimura’s life revolved around baseball. He said he became serious about the game as a baby to escape the taunts he endured for sharing his name with certainly one of Japan’s most famous slapstick comedians, Ken Shimura. (He later modified his name.)
Then he came upon he was superb at the game – an outfielder who could field, hit and run – and he enrolled at an elite baseball school to pursue his dreams of playing in Japan’s major leagues.
But he never made it beyond the semi-professional circuit. In this league, each team is owned by a big Japanese corporation, and the players split their time between baseball and work. Mr. Shimura played for Kawai Musical Instruments, constructing pianos within the morning and practicing within the afternoon.
After seven years, he began coaching, eventually in highschool, where he led teams to a prestigious national baseball tournament in Japan. But he said he has never faced a challenge just like the one he faces in Rio.
When he decided to go abroad, leaving his wife and adult children for 2 years, he hoped to return the favor by experiencing an adventure. He dreamed of developing talented young players within the baseball hotbed that’s the Dominican Republic.
Instead, he began teaching adults who had picked up a baseball for the primary time, in some cases just weeks earlier. The Rio team periodically competes against five other teams from the Rio suburbs, where there are more baseball diamonds and where Mr. Shimura also coaches on weekends.
“Honestly, I thought, ‘Oh. Why did I do it?” – he recalled in his modest, fastidiously organized rental place in Rio, equipped with a hob. (He receives a scholarship from the Japanese government that covers his living expenses.) “But then there was a turning point. I said I wouldn’t focus on what’s missing here. I will focus on what can be built.”
So Mr. Shimura began from scratch. At a recent training session, using a combination of Japanese, basic Portuguese and pantomime, he demonstrated positions on how to field ground balls and throw to base.
As he ran and jumped across the pitch, it was clear he had more energy than the players. And he kept talking, loud and positive, regardless that the players weren’t entirely sure what he was saying.
“You have to decipher it,” said Aluisio Carvalho, 23, a teacher wearing a Toronto Blue Jays cap. “Even if you don’t understand a word he says when he demonstrates the move, at least you have an idea of what to do.”
Players began using some Japanese words – similar to shoto for shortstop and fasto for first base – and even now sometimes bow on the sector to imitate their coach.
Mr. Shimura also tried to convey among the characteristics of Japanese baseball. He hung out trying to explain why teamwork was essential by drawing play diagrams. He showed his students how to handle the pitch and equipment. He also showed how to show respect to referees and players. “I want to teach more than just baseball,” he said.
Brazilians said they were serious about baseball through American movies or Japanese anime – certainly one of them said it was his introduction to the game Woody Woodpecker cartoon — after which fell in love with the novelty and pace of the sport once they tried it. “You can be skinny and party, but you can be fat,” said Luan David, 18, who’s studying to be a sommelier.
Players said they were inspired by Mr. Shimura’s constant energy and positive attitude. “He’s more of a motivational coach than a strictly professional one,” said Rafael Dantas, 29, an information technology employee and pitcher. “More emotional than subservient. And considering the level we play at, it’s worth much more.
“He’s a real teacher,” he added. “A real sensei.”
Mr. Dantas is one of the longest-serving players who first encountered baseball eight years ago during a Japanese cultural event in Rio. He and other, more experienced players form the core of the team – the “Cariocas” – which plays on a baseball field along Rio’s picturesque lagoon, overlooking the famous mountain ranges. The location arouses great interest among passers-by who have never seen live baseball. That’s partly why Mr. Shimura coaches so many novices.
Marcio Ramos, 44, a motorcycle supplier, was on his fifth training session. He had come to the club a few weeks earlier to ask questions – he knew most about baseball from the Brad Pitt movie “Moneyball” – and now he was learning how to hit from Mr. Shimura. “He speaks the universal language of sports,” Ramos said. “You’re basically explaining what he wants without understanding what he’s saying.”
A couple of minutes later, Mr. Ramos hit the ball over the fence for the primary time. Mr. Shimura screamed with delight. “Muscle!” Mr. Shimura said, rushing over to squeeze Mr. Ramos’s bicep.
“I try to enjoy the little things that can be achieved,” Shimura said. “When they gradually improve, that’s where I find joy.”
