Home: a player's perspective by S21 DSFL newcomer Tatsu Nakamura
I am no stranger to making a big move at a young age.
At the young age of only 9 years old, I moved to the United States without any English and without any say. I talked a little bit about this transition and how I found football in my first article as a prospective professional player, which you can read here. The other night, a similar thing happened during the season 21 DSFL Draft.
I had a hard time deciding where I would watch the draft. I still believe that Yokohama is my true home. So much of my personal and family history, culture, and identity is still in Japan. But the man I am today was made in America, with all of the good and bad that has come with that.
The NSFL and the DSFL along with it are more diverse and forward-thinking organizations then we could have imagined in sports twenty years ago. Even then, I know the athletes of color, the women, and the LGBT athletes in this league face an even greater uphill battle than others just to get on the field. I have felt that in my own life, and I have seen it since I was a little child seeing my father play in the MLB. He was the reason my family came to live in Seattle, as he was recruited to play first base for the Mariners. The team was not in a good position in the league at the time, after suffering for several seasons at the bottom of the tables. In fact, the one bright spot that fans had to look forward to on game days was their star veteran first baseman, a Seattle native to boot. However, in a move that was derided by the fans, the Mariner's front office decided to trade the veteran player's hefty contract away for a bevy of young, cheap athletes. They used a good part of that money that they had saved to bring in a star in the Nippon Baseball League that was unknown to American fans: my father, Nakamura Shoyo (he still hates it if I write his name out in the English/American style). Though very young and still wary of all of the foreign surroundings that I was immersed in so recently after landing in Seattle, I was brought to my father's first game in the US by my mother.
My mother is an amazing woman. She saved both me and my father from certain doom during this transition. To our good fortune, she had learned English as a young girl and had kept up with the practice in her work as a business consultant, meeting and working with companies in Japan, America, the United Kingdom, and many other English-speaking countries. She helped us both, along with tutors and formal lessons, to catch up with English as quickly as possible. But I remember being in that crowd for the first game, being surrounded by a language that I had so little exposure to up to that point, so afraid of this new home. And boy did that game go poorly. Facing a division rival in the Houston Astros, the team had a lot to prove after a huge shake-up in the offseason and a lot on the line with the home crowd. And it was bad. My dad and his team got beat down, 21 runs to just one for the Mariners. Looking back, I was surprised that the park hadn't cleared out by the 4th inning. But there we were, at the very end of the game, in a still crowded ballpark hearing the deafening roar. A wall of disappointment and hate flooded the field as the fans absolutely revolted in disgust at the team that they supported. One group of fans coming up the stairs to leave stopped in front of my mother to yell at her, and then threw peanut shells all over her and ran off. Being so young and not being able to understand a single thing that was said, I was so shocked and afraid. Maybe if I could hear and understand what they said I'd be even more scared than I was.
My mother rushed me away shortly after, her face serious and scrunched. She had a pass to get us the the lower level just outside of the locker room, and she pulled me down to the empty corridor minutes before the two teams came off of the field. Once we were alone and away from the screaming and booing fans I saw her face fall and she fell to the ground along with it, crying softly. I cried with her without knowing what exactly was wrong and she held me next to her. She stopped and she told me: "You know how you have been feeling here in America, my son? Like everything is so different, so alien and new to you? I know you have been scared of these different things, and so have I and your father. And so do other people when they see and hear us. It takes strength to embrace the unknown and not to respond with fear and anger. I need you to be strong, like they cannot be. Show the strength that it takes to know you belong and don't listen to people that say you do not."
I took me some time to find that strength to feel like I belonged when so many people along the way have told me that I don't, and when it is so hard to find people that look like me that have found success in athletics in this country. But I know who I am and I know where I come from and, even more importantly, I know what I am here to do. I am here to work hard, to fight for myself. I am here to be the best. I'm here to win.
Just like my dad. Even though they started off so poorly, the Mariners had the best season they'd had in the last five years once the team came together. By the third year that he was there, my father lead his team and his new city to a World Series, claiming the title for Seattle. And over the last 12 years here in Seattle, even staying here at home to play for the University of Washington, I knew that the future was here. My home is here. And so I sat on the couch with my father and my mother and with a number of fellow Huskies as I watched the 31st overall pick come in. My name was called and I found myself pushed forward into the next chapter of my life. Once again making a huge step forward to the distant, far-away, foreign lands... of Portland, Oregon.
And now I'm writing this in a hotel next to the Pythons stadium, full of excitement for my new home. Full of energy for joining my teammates and working hard to bring a title to Portland. Full of strength to embrace the unknown.
Thank you to the Portland Pythons organization and ownership, and thank you most of all to the fans here. Please embrace the new unknown players with the same strength that we hope to show you on the field. I can't wait to play in front of you all and show this league what we can do.
#HissHiss
I am no stranger to making a big move at a young age.
At the young age of only 9 years old, I moved to the United States without any English and without any say. I talked a little bit about this transition and how I found football in my first article as a prospective professional player, which you can read here. The other night, a similar thing happened during the season 21 DSFL Draft.
I had a hard time deciding where I would watch the draft. I still believe that Yokohama is my true home. So much of my personal and family history, culture, and identity is still in Japan. But the man I am today was made in America, with all of the good and bad that has come with that.
The NSFL and the DSFL along with it are more diverse and forward-thinking organizations then we could have imagined in sports twenty years ago. Even then, I know the athletes of color, the women, and the LGBT athletes in this league face an even greater uphill battle than others just to get on the field. I have felt that in my own life, and I have seen it since I was a little child seeing my father play in the MLB. He was the reason my family came to live in Seattle, as he was recruited to play first base for the Mariners. The team was not in a good position in the league at the time, after suffering for several seasons at the bottom of the tables. In fact, the one bright spot that fans had to look forward to on game days was their star veteran first baseman, a Seattle native to boot. However, in a move that was derided by the fans, the Mariner's front office decided to trade the veteran player's hefty contract away for a bevy of young, cheap athletes. They used a good part of that money that they had saved to bring in a star in the Nippon Baseball League that was unknown to American fans: my father, Nakamura Shoyo (he still hates it if I write his name out in the English/American style). Though very young and still wary of all of the foreign surroundings that I was immersed in so recently after landing in Seattle, I was brought to my father's first game in the US by my mother.
My mother is an amazing woman. She saved both me and my father from certain doom during this transition. To our good fortune, she had learned English as a young girl and had kept up with the practice in her work as a business consultant, meeting and working with companies in Japan, America, the United Kingdom, and many other English-speaking countries. She helped us both, along with tutors and formal lessons, to catch up with English as quickly as possible. But I remember being in that crowd for the first game, being surrounded by a language that I had so little exposure to up to that point, so afraid of this new home. And boy did that game go poorly. Facing a division rival in the Houston Astros, the team had a lot to prove after a huge shake-up in the offseason and a lot on the line with the home crowd. And it was bad. My dad and his team got beat down, 21 runs to just one for the Mariners. Looking back, I was surprised that the park hadn't cleared out by the 4th inning. But there we were, at the very end of the game, in a still crowded ballpark hearing the deafening roar. A wall of disappointment and hate flooded the field as the fans absolutely revolted in disgust at the team that they supported. One group of fans coming up the stairs to leave stopped in front of my mother to yell at her, and then threw peanut shells all over her and ran off. Being so young and not being able to understand a single thing that was said, I was so shocked and afraid. Maybe if I could hear and understand what they said I'd be even more scared than I was.
My mother rushed me away shortly after, her face serious and scrunched. She had a pass to get us the the lower level just outside of the locker room, and she pulled me down to the empty corridor minutes before the two teams came off of the field. Once we were alone and away from the screaming and booing fans I saw her face fall and she fell to the ground along with it, crying softly. I cried with her without knowing what exactly was wrong and she held me next to her. She stopped and she told me: "You know how you have been feeling here in America, my son? Like everything is so different, so alien and new to you? I know you have been scared of these different things, and so have I and your father. And so do other people when they see and hear us. It takes strength to embrace the unknown and not to respond with fear and anger. I need you to be strong, like they cannot be. Show the strength that it takes to know you belong and don't listen to people that say you do not."
I took me some time to find that strength to feel like I belonged when so many people along the way have told me that I don't, and when it is so hard to find people that look like me that have found success in athletics in this country. But I know who I am and I know where I come from and, even more importantly, I know what I am here to do. I am here to work hard, to fight for myself. I am here to be the best. I'm here to win.
Just like my dad. Even though they started off so poorly, the Mariners had the best season they'd had in the last five years once the team came together. By the third year that he was there, my father lead his team and his new city to a World Series, claiming the title for Seattle. And over the last 12 years here in Seattle, even staying here at home to play for the University of Washington, I knew that the future was here. My home is here. And so I sat on the couch with my father and my mother and with a number of fellow Huskies as I watched the 31st overall pick come in. My name was called and I found myself pushed forward into the next chapter of my life. Once again making a huge step forward to the distant, far-away, foreign lands... of Portland, Oregon.
And now I'm writing this in a hotel next to the Pythons stadium, full of excitement for my new home. Full of energy for joining my teammates and working hard to bring a title to Portland. Full of strength to embrace the unknown.
Thank you to the Portland Pythons organization and ownership, and thank you most of all to the fans here. Please embrace the new unknown players with the same strength that we hope to show you on the field. I can't wait to play in front of you all and show this league what we can do.
#HissHiss
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