These days, Don Nomura, the man who changed baseball forever, lives in Hawaii.
The isolated island chain in the middle of the Pacific is a fitting, poetic place for the 67-year-old, silver-haired player-agent to call home. Honolulu sits approximately halfway between Japan and the United States, the two nations whose sporting worlds Nomura bridged three decades ago.
These days, Japanese baseball and American baseball are inextricable, overlapping, intricately intertwined. Shohei Ohtani, the defending National League MVP, is the most famous player on Earth. His likeness graces billboards and TV commercials on both sides of the world’s largest ocean. Currently, Ohtani and the defending world champion Los Angeles Dodgers are in Tokyo for a season-opening, two-game set against the Chicago Cubs. The 45,600-seat Tokyo Dome is sold out for the series, which features a quintet of Japanese-born superstars.
The Dodgers — who, in addition to Ohtani, employ Japanese pitchers Yoshinobu Yamamoto and Roki Sasaki — have quickly become the island nation’s most popular team. All across Tokyo, interlocking L.A. hats dot the bustling metropolis like deep blue flecks of paint on an asphalt canvas. A whopping 10,000 tickets — sales were capped at that number — were sold for the Dodgers’ Tokyo Dome practice on Friday. Games 1 and 2 of the 2024 World Series between the Dodgers and New York Yankees had higher viewership numbers in Japan (15.2 million average) than in the United States (14.5 million).
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But while baseball has been Japan’s unofficial national sport for more than a century, the immense popularity of Major League Baseball is a relatively recent phenomenon in the country. Although Japan established its own pro circuit, Nippon Professional Baseball, in the 1930s, until the mid-1990s, only one Japanese-born player had ever crossed the Pacific to appear in an MLB game.
It wasn’t a lack of talent but rather a traditional culture deeply rooted in obedience and respect that prevented Japanese players from making the leap. For decades, the idea of crossing the Pacific to play in Major League Baseball seemed nearly impossible due to the restrictive rules governing NPB. Meanwhile, cultural expectations stymied any player from challenging that status quo.
That all changed, forever and for the better, in 1994, when the agent Nomura, a wonderfully gifted pitcher named Hideo Nomo and an indomitably fierce lawyer named Jean Afterman collaborated to take advantage of a contract loophole hidden in plain sight. Their vision, passion and hard work eventually sent Nomo to MLB stardom with the Dodgers, opening the door for generations of Japanese players and initiating an era of globalization for Major League Baseball.
“This sport is not this sport without Don and Hideo,” Afterman told Yahoo Sports. “And it wasn’t easy for them.”
Canceling ‘all dealings and negotiations between Japanese and American baseball’
In 1964, an NPB club called the Nankai Hawks sent a trio of youngsters to the United States as part of a baseball exchange program. Masanori Murakami, a pitcher, Tatsuhiko Tanaka, a third baseman, and Hiroshi Takahashi, a catcher, all joined the San Francisco Giants’ Single-A team in Fresno, California.
To the surprise of everyone involved, Murakami, a 20-year-old southpaw with a live arm, shined against minor-league competition. Recognizing an opportunity, the Giants promoted him to the big-league club in September, making him the first Japanese-born player in MLB history. Upon reaching San Francisco, Murakami continued to dominate, working to a 1.50 ERA across 15 innings of relief. After the season, the Giants intended to pay the Hawks a pre-agreed $10,000 fee to keep the tantalizing hurler around for the long haul.
But things weren’t that simple, and a firestorm ensued.
The Hawks wanted Murakami back, claiming that they retained control of his rights via the NPB reserve clause. Officials with Major League Baseball and the Giants argued otherwise. Eventually, a compromise was reached that allowed Murakami to spend the 1965 season with the Giants before returning to Japan the following year.
The messy contract disagreement around Murakami all but ended the potential for a working relationship between the two leagues, with MLB commissioner Ford Frick canceling “all agreements, all understandings and all dealings and negotiations between Japanese and American baseball.”
That stalemate would hold firm for nearly 30 years, completely cutting off the flow of Japanese baseball players to the United States.
Renegades looking to challenge the status quo
In the late summer of 1994, Don Nomura and Jean Afterman went to a game at the Tokyo Dome.
At the time, Nomura was something of a baseball nomad. Born in Japan to an American father and a Japanese mother, he played collegiately at Cal Poly Pomona and professionally for a few years in the NPB minor-league system. In his 30s, Nomura returned to the United States, working a series of bizarre jobs before borrowing enough money to purchase a controlling stake in an unaffiliated minor-league team called the Salinas Spurs.
It was there, in Salinas, California, 10 miles from the Pacific Ocean and more than 5,000 miles from his birthplace, that Nomura met Mac Suzuki, a trouble-making Japanese teenager whose misbehavior had gotten him kicked out of his native country’s youth baseball system. Suzuki, who went on to have a six-year MLB career, caught Nomura’s attention, eventually motivating Nomura to sell his club and become a full-time agent.
“[Suzuki] basically got me to represent him, and then, you know, I dug into the history of baseball itself,” he said. “I started to learn about [former MLBPA executive director] Marvin Miller and his great work. And thought this might be my career.”
Nomura also dabbled in the world of baseball cards, which was how he came into contact with Afterman. At the time, Nomura owned the rights to baseball card licenses in Japan, licenses that became infringed upon by a major American card company. Afterman, then a recent law school graduate working for a small firm in the San Fernando Valley, was introduced to Nomura and his legal situation by a mutual friend.
“I’d never been to Japan,” Afterman, who has been an assistant general manager with the Yankees since 2001, recently told Yahoo Sports about the job that changed her life. “Always loved baseball, so I jumped at the chance.”
When Nomura took Afterman to an NPB game at the Tokyo Dome, she was struck by the quality of baseball on display. You might say it was a eureka moment.
“We’d always been told in the United States, ‘Ah, they’re just a Double-A or a Triple-A team,’” she said. “But these were legit, incredibly talented baseball players. I asked Don why there weren’t more Japanese baseball players playing in the United States.”
“Well, you know,” Nomura said with a grin, turning to Afterman, “I’m glad you asked.”
He told Afterman the story of Murakami and the hands-off agreement between MLB and NPB put into place in 1967. He explained how Japanese teams, upon signing a player, held their rights for 10 years before the player could reach free agency. He laid out how that dynamic made it nearly impossible for a Japanese player, in the prime of his career, to sign with an MLB team.
A born renegade, Nomura had been pondering a challenge to the status quo for a while, but he was sorely lacking in two areas. For one, he needed a legal mind to help him pore over the fine text. Afterman, an eager accomplice, filled that role perfectly. But above all, Nomura had to find the player, one frustrated enough with the traditionalism of NPB, bold enough to rebel against the decades-old system and talented enough to make it all worth it.
That player was Hideo Nomo.
After debuting with the NPB’s Kintetsu Buffaloes as a 21-year-old rookie in 1990, Nomo was an instant success. Using a deceptive, torso-twisting, overhead windup, a mid-90s fastball and a devastating splitter, he won the 1990 Sawamura award for Japan’s best pitcher. With that success came expectation — an expectation to pitch.
Between 1990 and 1993, Nomo threw 74 complete games, finishing a whopping 63% of the contests he started. That figure, stateside, would be the Integration Era record for most complete games in a player’s first four seasons. In Japan, however, leaning on talented starting pitchers was commonplace. By 1994, the years of overuse led to a shoulder injury that limited Nomo to 114 innings. More importantly, one of the country’s best and most beloved players had grown disenchanted with Japanese baseball.
Major League Baseball, that impossible dream, began to beckon.
‘The four corners of the document are going to set us free’
By way of a mutual friend, news of Nomo’s frustration and curiosity made its way to Nomura, who agreed to sit down with the aggrieved pitcher at a Tokyo hotel late in 1994. At that meeting, Nomura laid out the ins and outs of American baseball, the strength of the MLB Players Association and how Nomo would almost certainly be paid a fairer contract in the States.
“He was really awed by it,” Nomura remembered. “He just thought that American baseball had a system that was more beneficial for the player. And that the Japanese system really screwed over every single player.”
Nomo was in. And so the agent and the lawyer got to work.
Nomura sent Afterman a translated version of the Yakyu Kiroku, Japan’s extensive baseball rulebook. She pored over it, looking for any loopholes or openings. Soon thereafter, the intrepid duo uncovered a series of recent letters between MLB and NPB leadership. This correspondence, regarding an overlooked section of the rulebook, would prove to be the break they were searching for.
“I always told Don: The four corners of the document are going to set us free,” Afterman said. “We just stick to the four corners of every document. We don’t go outside of it. We force NPB to follow their rules, and we force Major League Baseball to follow their rules, and if they follow their rules, it’s going to lead to free agency.”
The Yakyu Kiroku stipulated that a voluntarily retired Japanese player was technically no longer under contract. Did that make such a player eligible to sign with an American team?
“Somebody from the U.S. commissioner’s office had reached out to the Japanese commissioner’s office and asked for clarification,” Afterman remembered. “The letter came back from the Japanese commissioner which said, yes, if you are a voluntary retired player of Nippon Professional Baseball, you are free to contract with a U.S. club.”
Nomura brought this information to Nomo, who was readying to negotiate a new contract with the Buffaloes. The two hatched a plan. If Nomo and Nomura, who by this point was effectively Nomo’s agent, could convince the Buffaloes to agree to retire the 26-year-old hurler, Nomo would be free to test the MLB market.
That strategy came with an obvious problem. Why would the Buffaloes willingly retire the star pitcher? Why would the NPB office, whose stamp of approval was also needed, do the same? If either team or league knew that Nomo wanted to leave for America, they’d do everything possible to stop him. Nomo and Nomura realized they needed to coax the Buffaloes into retiring Nomo by frustrating the club enough that its leadership group grew infuriated with Nomo and retired him as an act of punishment.
Nomura’s sheer presence as an agent was a strong start to this trickery.
“In the 1990s, players — Japanese players — did not have agents,” Afterman said.
“When I first met with the Kintetsu people, they basically said, we’re not dealing with you,” Nomura recalled. “Get out of the room. No agents are allowed in Japanese baseball, period.”
“We put together this presentation that Hideo, having voluntarily retired from the contested Buffaloes, was a free agent and could sign with any club,” Afterman said.
And when Nomo requested a multi-year guaranteed contract upward of $5 million per season, well beyond the norm in NPB, the Buffaloes balked. A month passed; neither side budged. Frustrated by their player’s insubordination and unaware of Nomura’s scheme, Kintetsu brought the hammer down.
Nomo was officially retired, essentially banned, from NPB. He was free, legally speaking, to join an MLB team.
When news of Nomo’s retirement reached the Japanese public, people were shocked. When he announced his intention to play stateside, Nomo and Nomura became public enemies. Front-page headlines critiqued them for acting selfishly. Both lost longtime friends. Nomura received hate mail to his Tokyo apartment. There was anger, doubt and scorn.
“He’s a traitor. Nomura is seeking to make money off of Hideo. Nomura is a bad guy. You shouldn’t trust him. Nomo’s going to fail,” Nomura remembered of the criticism he received during that time. “I mean, it was every day for probably a good, solid seven [or] eight months.”
Nomo-mania begins
On May 2, 1995, less than six months after he upended the world of Japanese baseball, Hideo Nomo, Los Angeles Dodger, climbed an MLB mound for the first time. It was there, beneath the swirling winds of Candlestick Park in San Francisco, that Nomo proved that he and his countrymen could thrive at the sport’s highest level. Facing a lineup that featured future home run king Barry Bonds, Nomo struck out seven Giants in five scoreless innings while allowing just one hit.
The rookie hurler was officially a sensation. Once he notched his first win in early June, Nomo-mania began in earnest.
Cameras, reporters and media members flooded in from both sides of the Pacific as Nomo delivered gem after gem. Japanese fans, who just months earlier had considered Nomo a villain, hailed him as a hero. After a spectacular month of June in which he posted a microscopic 0.89 ERA in 50 innings, Nomo was tabbed to start the All-Star Game for the National League. He finished the year with a 2.54 ERA and 236 strikeouts across 28 starts, earning NL Rookie of the Year honors.
A point had been proven, doubts quieted, a bridge built.
“I didn’t view it in terms of changing the sport or as being an historic event,” Afterman said, looking back. “I didn’t view it in a mythic or magnificent way. But I just knew that by opening up Major League Baseball increasingly to international players, it was and should change the sport forever.”
Nomo went on to pitch 11 more big-league seasons. He never quite returned to the heights of his debut year, but his legacy is far beyond anything that can be found on a stat sheet. Spurred by Nomo’s success, Nomura continued challenging the Yakyu Kiroku, guiding players such as Alfonso Soriano and Hideki Irabu out of their NPB contracts and into Major League Baseball.
In response to the growing desire of Japanese players to play in MLB, the two leagues instituted a posting system in 1998, the core of which is still in place today. The posting system standardized the relationship between MLB and NPB, opening the floodgates for a wave of Japanese players. In total, 79 Japanese players have appeared in MLB since 1995. Flamethrowing Dodgers phenom Roki Sasaki will become the 80th when he debuts Wednesday against the Cubs in Tokyo.
None of this would’ve been possible without Nomo, Nomura and Afterman.
“[Nomo] was the one who inspired me to clearly aim for the major leagues while I was in middle school,” Daisuke Matsuzaka told a Japanese newspaper in 2008, when the legendary hurler retired from MLB.
“Ohtani, Yamamoto and Sasaki,” Afterman said. “I don’t know that these guys know how much they owe to Don and Hideo.”
