Hideki Irabu, R.I.P.: The Big Pitcher Who Couldn't

Hideki Irabu pitched for three tumultuous seasons with the New York Yankees.

I approached my father yesterday with this question:

"Guess who died today? I'll give you a hint, he played for the Yankees."

"Uhh, Yogi Berra?"

"Think more recently. More in the nineties...It was someone who flamed out."

"Oh! Uhh, the catcher that was recently arrested for DUI...Jim Leyritz?

"No not him. Think Japanese...Think high expectations."

"Hideki Irabu! Ohh! Yeah, wow, what a disappointment he turned out to be."

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Hideki Irabu, one of the most hyped players in baseball history, committed suicide in his Los Angeles home on Thursday. He was 42.

Irabu had great stuff. He pitched from 1988-1996 in Japan's Pacific League, holding an ERA near 2.00 and routinely throwing 95+ mph fastballs, unheard of in Japanese leagues at the time. But the "Nolan Ryan of Japan" wanted to play in the United States, specifically for the World Champion New York Yankees.

Privately, Irabu also yearned to explore his American roots and desperately wanted to meet his estranged biological father. He was US military personnel and disappeared before Irabu was born.

He had stated that it was "his dream" to play for the Yankees, yet when he arrived in New York, he remained introverted, even sad. He never met his father, and he never quite felt "at home" in New York.

While he had flashes of brilliance, Irabu caved spectacularly under the weight of expectations.

His first year in the league, 1997, was marred by inconsistency. After striking out nine in his much-anticipated debut, he unspectacularly racked up a 7.09 ERA over the rest of the season.

In 1998, he gave fans glimpses of his vast talent, posting a 13-9 record with an ERA just over 4. Yet, he didn't appear in a single game during the Yankees' sensational playoff run that year.

In 1999, after failing to cover first during an exhibition game, owner George Steinbrenner famously called Irabu a "fat pus-sy toad," a jeer that was only amplified by the lax workout regimens that supposedly contributed to the japanese import's lack of success on American soil. Unlike the aforementioned Yogi Berra, Irabu had difficulty dealing with criticism and channeling it into positive results.

In the 1999 ALCS, Irabu made his only postseason appearance. Against the Red Sox, the mild-mannered pitcher was pounded for eight runs in four and two thirds innings in a 13-1 loss, the only one of the series. The Yankees would go on to capture the World Series, earning Irabu his second ring.

From the end of that season, Irabu's storyline was relegated to the backpages of the sports section. He was traded to the Montreal Expos but only made 14 starts over a two year period. In 2001, Irabu was suspended for getting drunk before a scheduled start during a rehab assignment.

In 2002, the Texas Rangers tried to convert Irabu into a closer, but to no avail, as he finished the season with an ERA of 5.74 with only 16 saves to show for it. He returned to Japan for the 2003 season with mild success, but retired shortly thereafter.

Irabu faced more troubles in connection with his drinking habits. On August 20, 2008, he pounded 20 beers and decked a bartender in Osaka, Japan when his credit card was rejected. The bartender didn't press charges.

In 2009, he returned to American soil in the independent Golden Baseball League, but in 2010, he returned to Japan for his final professional season.

On May 20, 2010, Irabu was arrested for DUI, just another incident in a long line of precursors leading up to his eventual death.

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When I think of Hideki Irabu, I don't envision the man who retreated in his empty suburban home, his daughters taken away and his marriage in tatters, to hang himself.

I take the leap back to childhood.

As an eight-year-old boy who eagerly devoured every bit of Yankee lore, past and present, Hideki Irabu was one man in a lineup of superheroes who were paid the big bucks to throw flaming fastballs and smash towering home runs, day in and day out.

When I hear his name, the memories that resurface are those of the fanfare of his arrival at Yankee Stadium, of his high-90s heaters, and of his contributions to the spectacular '98 and '99 Yankees squads.

But still, it remains hard to celebrate the life of a man who gave up, who could never measure up to the hype he helped build, whose only steady relationship was with the bottle, who took the coward's way out, selfishly leaving his two daughters to grow up fatherless, like he was. 


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Dean Karoliszyn is the Coeditor-in-Chief and cofounder of Jabroni Free Sports.