LA N D OF OPPORTU NITY
Orix has given him since his original signing
- a notable accomplishment for a foreign-
born pitcher. Historically, Japan has lacked
native-born power hitters and looked abroad
for home run boppers, but homegrown
quality pitching has been plentiful. The
foreign pitcher who has achieved longevity in
Japan, let alone with the same team, is rare.
Dickson’s sustained success, he feels, is in
part due to his adaptability.
“I’m pretty open to new things and not
just stuck on doing things one way. I don’t
have something I consider ‘my way’ and do
it whether you like it or don’t like it,” he
says. “I’ve been open to the ideas Orix has
had about my pitching. I listen to what they
have to say and I’ve adapted to the culture
and the style of play over here.
“And being likable is one reason that
they’ve wanted to keep me around.”
The pitcher who arrived in Japan relying
on physical ability now possesses mental
resources that come with experience. He
better understands hitters, in-game situations
and is more aware of which pitches he needs
to make, and those that hurt him.
Taguchi offers another reason for the
righthander’s success.
“He loves Japan,” Taguchi points out.
“There are a lot of guys who come over here
and aren’t a good match for the lifestyle
or the brand of baseball played here. I see
a lot of similarities between him and me
in that I loved St. Louis and that was an
important fact in my transition there. I liked
Ted Drewes, I liked everything about it.
He’s the same. ... If you’re happy in your
environment, it carries over to the playing
field.”
And Dickson and his wife are plenty
happy. Along with their 2- and 4-year-old
daughters, they live in a foreign community
on Rokko Island, a manmade island in the
Port of Kobe.
“I even find that food I didn’t like at
the beginning, I’ve come to love, like udon
noodles,” he says. “My tastes have changed
being over here so long and now I love so
many things that I never imagined I would
be eating.”
And don’t get him started on Kobe beef.
“It’s absolutely fantastic,” Dickson raves.
“It’s the best meat I’ve ever had in my life.
I go to a place called Zen Steakhouse all the
time. I love that place. One offseason, I had
Kobe beef at a restaurant back home just for
comparison, and it was not even close. Here,
it’s like cotton candy; it just melts in your
mouth.”
CULTURE CURVEBALLS
Coming around to the cuisine
necessitated a bit of adapting – Dickson
figured the food would be different – but
some of the formalities of Japanese baseball
required a wholesale evolution.
For his entire professional career
stateside, the place to put on his uniform
had always been the same: the team’s locker
room. But in a small island country, where
space is a premium (including at ballparks),
he discovered road teams are expected to
utilize their hotels, rather than stadium
facilities, for changing into game-day attire.
Now he’s grown used to donning his
Dickson’s knuckle curveball, which he wasn’t asked to throw much in the U.S., translates
well in Japan. “Our catchers love that pitch,” he says. “Batters just don’t square it up much.”
CARDINALS MAGAZINE 63