<figure id="attachment_431175" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1367px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-431175"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="fd34cde7"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/07/e5ec9eb89b471222db4e3e292c42a4e4-1.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-431175" class="wp-caption-text">Three or four years after Mr. Dave retired, he interviewed Mr. Nagashima as a commentator. Mr. Nagashima&#8217;s gaze was sharp.</figcaption></figure>
<p data-start="0" data-end="128"><strong>“I was always encouraged by Mr. Nagashima. He’d say, ‘Boo-chan, your batting is genius-level—you’re fine just the way you are.’”</strong></p>
<p data-start="130" data-end="534">So recalls former pro baseball player Dave Okubo (58), reflecting on his memories of “Mr. Pro Baseball” Shigeo Nagashima, who passed away on June 3 at the age of 89. Okubo moved from Seibu to the Yomiuri Giants in 1992, his eighth year as a pro. In 1993, Nagashima became the Giants’ manager, succeeding Motoshi Fujita. For Okubo, Nagashima had always been a god-like figure he’d admired since childhood. Below, in Okubo’s own words, he looks back on his unforgettable encounters and treasured experiences with the legendary Nagashima.</p>
<p><a href="https://amzn.to/401BWld"> Many interviews with Mr. Dave and other people involved. Now on sale! Shigeo Nagashima, Number 3: I&#8217;ll never forget you&#8221; (Kodansha)</a></p>
<div data-friday-ad-slot="AD_inArticle">
<p data-start="0" data-end="250">I first met Mr. Nagashima during my second year with Seibu, at the Giants’ spring camp in Kochi. He had come to see the golden rookie, Kazuhiro Kiyohara. We happened to pass each other, and I stood at attention and loudly greeted him with, “Hello!”</p>
<p data-start="252" data-end="283">Mr. Nagashima responded warmly:</p>
<p data-start="285" data-end="345"><strong>“Oh, so energetic! Number 45… Okubo-kun, right? Keep it up.”</strong></p>
<p data-start="347" data-end="373">I was absolutely thrilled.</p>
<p data-start="375" data-end="520">The following year, he came to the Kochi camp again and gave a speech in front of the entire team. During the talk, he singled me out for praise:</p>
<p data-start="522" data-end="661" data-is-last-node="" data-is-only-node=""><strong>“Watching practice, I saw that Okubo-kun has excellent batting. Even if he’s big, it’s fine—what matters in the pros is being able to hit.”</strong></p>
</div>
<h2>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to name you the 59th number four hitter.&#8221;</h2>
<div data-friday-ad-slot="AD_inArticle">
<p data-start="0" data-end="331">At the time, I was feeling pretty disheartened. Even though I entered the pros with the nickname “Dokaben from Ibaraki,” Seibu put me on a strict weight limit of 87 kilograms. I was forced to eat brown rice and vegetables all the time. I kept thinking, “Being big is my strength—why do I have to lose weight?” I was frustrated.</p>
<p data-start="333" data-end="484">Then the baseball god himself—Mr. Nagashima—told me, “You’re fine just the way you are.” For the first time, I felt truly seen. I was shaking all over.</p>
<p data-start="486" data-end="694">It was my second year with the Giants when Mr. Nagashima became manager, and he appointed me as the Giants’ cleanup hitter—a position of honor. He called me into the manager’s office and gave me a pep talk:</p>
<p data-start="696" data-end="886"><strong>“I’m appointing you as the 59th cleanup hitter for the Giants. Boo-chan, you’ve been batting eighth because you’re a catcher, but you’ve got what it takes to hit in the heart of the lineup.”</strong></p>
<p data-start="888" data-end="1132">One time, I went to his hotel room to ask for some batting advice. I knocked on the door, and he let me in wearing nothing but a towel—must’ve just come out of the shower. He said, “Lend me your bat,” and swung it three times with full force.</p>
<p data-start="1134" data-end="1233" data-is-last-node="" data-is-only-node="">Then he grinned and said:<br data-start="1159" data-end="1162"><strong>“How about that swing, Boo-chan? Pretty amazing, huh? Good work today!”</strong></p>
</div>
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="The surprising outcome of the bet with Mr. Nagashima"></div>
<h2>&#8220;Boo, bet with me.&#8221;</h2>
<figure id="attachment_431176" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 2856px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-431176"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="f0423737"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/07/62706789a920c27571811f2c5a0b9078.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-431176" class="wp-caption-text">For Mr. Dave, Mr. Nagashima is God.</figcaption></figure>
<div data-friday-ad-slot="AD_inArticle"></div>
<p data-start="0" data-end="130">That was the last time. I think Mr. Nagashima was trying to tell me, in his own way, that I didn’t need to worry about my batting.</p>
<p data-start="132" data-end="454">But the truth is, I still wasn’t good enough. I never fully secured a spot as a regular. Even so, Mr. Nagashima always treated me with care and respect. One time, before a game, when the regulars had finished batting practice and us bench players were about to start, he walked over, rested one foot on the cage, and said:</p>
<p data-start="456" data-end="574"><strong>“Boo-chan, let’s make a bet. Out of your next five swings, if even one goes over the fence, I’ll give you 10,000 yen.”</strong></p>
<p data-start="576" data-end="691">That lit a fire in me. I sent one deep into the stands. Mr. Nagashima just muttered with a wry smile, “You got me.”</p>
<p data-start="693" data-end="862">After the game, on the team bus, he handed me an envelope with 10,000 yen in it. Written on it in pencil was his then-number: 33.<br data-start="822" data-end="825">“Here,” he said. “Use it for dinner.”</p>
<p data-start="864" data-end="992">I think it was his way of keeping my spirits up—knowing I was starting to lose confidence from not being in the starting lineup.</p>
<p data-start="994" data-end="1139">The words of Mr. Nagashima—the god of baseball—and those moments we shared are things I will never forget. They are etched into my heart forever.</p>
<p>The book <a href="https://amzn.to/401BWld">&#8220;In Memoriam&#8221; Emergency Supplement: Shigeo Nagashima, Number 3, I&#8217;ll Never Forget&#8221; (Kodansha),</a> now on sale, includes details about the unexpected episode in which Mr. Nagashima praised the quick-witted Dave, and a secret story about his tears of joy that was revealed after his death.</p>
<div class="expapp-no-provided-scope expapp-no-provided-scope-end"></div>


 Courtesy of Mr. Dave Takamasa Yamazaki

 Shigeo Nagashima, "Mr. Giant," who passed away, gave light to the lives of many baseball people. One of them was Dave Okubo. He moved to the Giants and was deeply moved by Mr. Nagashima's personality. He recalls his own moving story and God's care for him.

Dave Okubo Recalls Nagashima’s “10,000 Yen for a Home Run” Gesture

Access Ranking