SACRAMENTO, Calif. -- In the strawberry fields of pre-World War II Florin, Calif., a budding baseball star toiled, one of a family of 12.From the moment of birth, Yosh Tsukamoto's destiny would never reach the major leagues, no matter if his batting average neared Ted Williams' or his glove was as golden as they get.Batting champion Tsukamoto and hundreds of Japanese American men and boys embraced the American pastime before and after the war -- even during the war, when they were interned behind barbed wire. They played each other all over the West, including Hawaii. Sidestepping bigotry, they just played ball.Now 88, Tsukamoto harbors no bitterness about what could have been, just a frank assessment of how it was."Let me put it this way: I was just as good as anybody else," he said.The Carmichael, Calif. barber is one of 32 Japanese American baseball players from the era who were honored recently at a luncheon and at an evening ceremony before the Sacramento River Cats' minor-league baseball game.In their 80s and 90s now, they were remembered for their often unheralded contribution to a sport that didn't always welcome them.At Raley Field, they gathered along the baseline, some in wheelchairs. Despite the searing heat, some in their 90s ambled around as spryly as kids.A Citrus Heights teacher, Wayne Hironaka, 73, helped organize the day of recognition for the former players who played in leagues organized by churches and other civic organizations. Another several dozen men who played during the 1950s and 1960s were included. Hironaka, who played baseball for Fresno State University, said he is indebted to these men who turned their backs on adversity and found joy in the game."I loved the game," said Hironaka, who said he made his first baseball cleats by clamping bottle caps to the bottom of his shoe.As a child, he was evacuated along with anyone else of Japanese descent on the West Coast and sent to an internment camp for most of the war.There, players organized and continued to play."Had it not been for the players in the internment camps, I probably never would have played baseball," Hironaka said.To organize last week's event, Hironaka joined with Kerry Yo Nakagawa, author of the book "Through a Diamond: 100 Years of Japanese American Baseball" and associate producer of the film "American Pastime."The players who roused fans and buoyed spirits at internment camps throughout the West are particularly dear to the game, he said."It was their savior," Nakagawa said of baseball. "It was a way to bring back that community pride."Nakagawa, from a family with four generations of ballplayers, accompanied 15 men, including Tsukamoto, to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., for a ceremony in 1998. At the Hall of Fame, Nakagawa's traveling exhibit, "Baseball Behind Barbed Wire," showed visitors artifacts, uniforms and photos of Japanese American players."I just didn't want this chapter of Japanese American baseball to get lost," he said. "This is one small way to give back and let them (the players) know they're appreciated and how significant they are to our culture and our history."In his living room, Tsukamoto, a center fielder, showed a photo of himself surrounded by victorious teammates in 1948.In his league, he won the batting title one year, hitting for what he remembers as a .300-plus average. He is perplexed at professional players today who slide by with .200 averages and less."What are they doing up there (in the majors)?" he asked.He recalled repeat victories in 1935 and 1936 while he was a teenager on a Florin team, playing up and down the Valley.When he went to the internment camp during the war, it seemed natural to keep playing, he said."What was there to do? We had a captive audience," he said.Game calls became fodder for hot debate among his elders, who would unfold chairs at home plate and second-guess the umpires, he said.Even as a player, Tsukamoto learned to keep his opinion to himself.Another player, Karl Matsumoto, 87, grew up in Hood, also in a farming family.After high school, he played shortstop, he said, in the Northern California Valley Conference.Once he swung the bat, Matsumoto commanded attention."They said, 'Hey, this guy can swat home runs. Let's put him in cleanup.' Then, I got a little notice," he said.Before the ceremony, Matsumoto, a retired radar technician, said he played guys from all over at an internment camp at Tule Lake. The circumstances of the game -- played under armed guards -- never changed it, he said."A game is a game and a sport is a sport," he said. "It's an American game."(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
Post new comment