Around the world and back again
Though the Charlotte Knights are the Triple-A affiliate of the Chicago White Sox, attendance at the park, which seats over 10,000, has lowered consistently since the team was promoted from the Double-A level in 1993.
For Knights infielder Jeff Liefer, the sparse crowds are a tad more noticeable -- especially after playing in the Seibu Dome.
"In Japan they chant all game long. It doesn't matter if it's 12-1 in the ninth inning," Liefer said. "When your team is up, your fans will be in the outfield stands doing their chants. That was a real adjustment because you have the constant noise in your ear with horns and chanting."
The Seibu Dome, which seats 35,879 spectators and drew over one million fans last season, is 6,882 miles from Charlotte. Every inch of that distance is necessary to highlight the differences between the games played in those cities. One is a breeding ground for a cornucopia of players hoping to reach (or re-reach) their childhood goal; the other, a cultural and financial monster in a city that lives and breathes baseball.
The explosion of talented players transferring from Japan to the Major Leagues has been well documented, reaching an unfathomable level of hype for players such as Ichiro Suzuki, Hideki Matsui and Daisuke Matsuzaka -- all three of whom were mega-stars in Japan, and are still exactly that in the Major Leagues.
Much less has been said about players making the opposite transition. Granted, many if not all of those guys were toiling in the Minors or attempting to jump-start their career, but it's still as significant a culture shock as some of Japan's top stars experienced coming to the U.S.
Just ask Liefer what he ate.
"Obviously, the language barrier was difficult," he said. "I remember the first day there, me and two of my friends who were also foreigners went to Coco's, which is a restaurant they have on the West Coast. We couldn't even tell them we've got three people to sit down. We couldn't get past that first part. Luckily there were pictures on the menu, so we got half of what we wanted."
Liefer is one of many Minor League players who chose to forge a new and daring path in their life. Timo Perez of the Toledo Mud Hens started his career in Japan, playing four seasons with the Hiroshima Carp before coming to America and commencing his trip to the Majors. Damon Hollins played more recently overseas, spending all of 2007 with the Yomiuri Giants before returning to the U.S. Buffalo Bisons manager Torey Lovullo finished his playing career with the Yakult Swallows in 2000 after spending the better part of eight seasons with seven Major League clubs and their Minor League affiliates.
If almost every youngster who plays baseball in America dreams of one day bursting out of the dugout with 45,000 fans cheering for him, why leave the Minors for a market that puts you, quite literally, farthest from the Show?
"The money's so good over there, it's the number one reason guys go to Japan," Liefer said. "There's no doubt about it. And if anyone tells you anything different, they're lying.
"At that point in my career, you've got to take the money. I was 30 when I went over there, and nothing was really happening here."
It's the difference between running ragged in the Minors, making roughly $10,000 a month, or playing with little pressure and earning $400-500,000, despite possibly not being able to order a proper meal for a few weeks.
But not only do the salaries and fast-food joints differ from their counterparts in America. Often relearning the approach to a sport people like Liefer have been playing for most of their life is a requirement.
One of the biggest differences for Americans transitioning to the Nippon Professional Baseball League is the lack of weight training. Facilities are available but they're only used by foreigners, whose bodies aren't able to remain in top physical condition without pressing, lifting and squatting their way to fitness. However, if on the road, forget it. Facilities aren't shared as they are in America.
Road games involve another interesting distinction that's reminiscent of high school contests in the States. According to Liefer, players dress and hold hitters' and pitchers' meetings at the hotel. The team leaves together from their temporary housing, and as soon as they exit the bus, players proceed to the field to stretch and take batting practice. Those hours spent playing cards and chatting with reporters in the clubhouse prior to the first pitch are eliminated.
On the field, the greatest distinction involves the managerial decision to bunt.
"Japan's society is based on sacrificing for the good of the team, or the good of the society. And that carries over to baseball. They feel that if you sacrifice bunt, you're giving yourself up for the team, so that's a good thing," Liefer said.
Nobody said American and Japanese styles weren't allowed to clash.
"It's not necessarily always the smartest decision, in my opinion," he said. "Every single game, if our leadoff batter got on base, our second hitter would bunt him over in the first inning.
"Our second hitter hit .300 and led the league in stolen bases, so to me he's giving himself up for the team, but more than 30 percent of the time, he's going to get on base and he could steal a base. A lot of things could happen if they let him swing the bat."
In two seasons with the Lions (2006-07), Liefer collected 72 hits, 21 home runs and 60 RBIs. Those numbers weren't enough to have Seibu resign him in '08, so the 6-foot-3 product of Long Beach State University returned home.
Since, he's happily swinging freely in Charlotte and is hitting .224 with three home runs and 16 RBIs in 40 games.
"That's all they talk about, 'team baseball,' but at the same time, at a home game you don't stretch as a team," Liefer said. "To me, team baseball is spending time with your teammates. I didn't even know most of my pitchers because they didn't practice on the same field, and the starters would go home if they weren't pitching. They didn't sit on the bench."
While the NBP is an immensely popular draw for many Japanese fans, Americans don't track defectors' stats with nearly the same voraciousness as their foreign counterparts. That, however, doesn't mean it's not a valuable life passage for those who make the decision to cross the Pacific.
"I wouldn't trade it for the world," Liefer said of his two years abroad. "There were obviously some difficult times over there. You miss home, you want to come back a lot, but in hindsight, it was a great experience. I got to be immersed in a different culture."
Culture shock and playing style aside, there's something to be said for the journey Liefer and many like him undergo, as well as the chance he and other Minor Leaguers are willing to take -- abandoning a lifestyle they've known for so long in favor of the relatively unknown.
"Everyone who came over to visit me all saw Japan in a completely different light than we did because they just came for a little bit, like a vacation. Everything they did was touristy," he said. "To us, we were part of the culture and it was a fantastic experience, no doubt."
Nick Cammarota is an associate reporter for MLB.com.