<figure id="attachment_431475" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 2854px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-431475"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="d7d0d06f"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/07/e3bd1467711fd9d735c3f20904d5cc84-1.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-431475" class="wp-caption-text">In February 1972, aiming for their eighth consecutive championship, “Mr.” (second from the left) and Mr. Takada (third from the left) go for a run at the Tamagawa Ground.</figcaption></figure>
&#8220;I&#8217;m from Osaka, and I went to Naniwa Commercial High School, right? Being from Kansai, I didn’t really have any strong image or emotional attachment to Shigeo Nagashima. I was a fan of the Nankai Hawks ever since I was a kid. I only really started to become aware of him when I entered Meiji University—since Nagashima-san was a superstar from Rikkyo University.&#8221;
So says Shigeru Takada (79), who made the bench as a first year at powerhouse Naniwa Commercial, a team led by Yukio Ozaki. Although he received an offer from Nankai Hawks manager Kazuto Tsuruoka, Takada chose to enroll at Meiji University to fulfill his dream of playing in the prestigious Tokyo Big6 Baseball League. He went on to be selected for the Best Nine for seven consecutive seasons. In the 1967 draft, he was selected first overall by the Yomiuri Giants and quickly secured the starting left field position as a speedy, hard-hitting, well-rounded outfielder. He contributed to the Giants’ nine consecutive championships (the “V9” era). Reflecting on those years, Takada shares memories of his time with Shigeo Nagashima (who passed away on June 3 at the age of 89), with whom he spent many seasons.
Featured in the special memorial issue now on sale: <a href="https://amzn.to/44DOlNE">“Memorial Emergency Extra Edition: Shigeo Nagashima – Never Forget Number 3” (Kodansha)</a>, which includes exclusive interviews and rare photos from Takada and others.
I first met Nagashima-san in December 1967, right after I was selected as the Giants’ first-round draft pick. It was for a feature in Sports Hochi, and we were scheduled to have a talk. Suddenly, I found myself face-to-face with him at his home, and all I remember is being awestruck— “Whoa, it’s the real Nagashima-san!” I was so nervous, I have no recollection of what we even talked about. I was still a university student at the time, and though the details are fuzzy, I do vaguely remember that he kindly kept the conversation going and treated me in a very friendly, down-to-earth way (laughs).
As a teammate, Shigeo Nagashima the baseball player was the complete opposite of the image the public had of him. Most people think Sadaharu Oh was the intense and solitary one, but in truth, it was Nagashima-san who was far stricter and more disciplined when it came to baseball. Oh-san was more laid-back and easygoing. He’d casually invite the team out for drinks and really go all in. During spring camp and even through the season, he’d often sleep in until around noon.
<h2>A trade?</h2>
On the other hand, Nagashima-san had a strict daily routine—starting his mornings with a walk. He never forgot to get massages to keep his body loose, and he managed his condition meticulously. For lunch, he’d eat steak; in the evening, he’d have a light meal centered on fish and didn’t drink alcohol. Even on road trips, he wouldn’t go out. No one dared to disrupt that routine. He was such a focused and untouchable presence that the idea of inviting him out for a night on the town never even crossed our minds.
In 1974, Nagashima-san retired as a player and took over as manager the following year. But that first season ended in humiliation, as the Giants finished last in the standings for the first time in franchise history. That offseason, I received a call from Nagashima-san and was summoned to his home in Denenchofu (Setagaya Ward).
At the time, I was over 30 and could feel my physical decline. My batting average had slumped to the low .200s. In an effort to rebound, the Giants had acquired slugging outfielder Isao Harimoto—who would later record 3,000 career hits—from the Nippon Ham Fighters. I braced myself for the worst, convinced I was going to be traded. So, when I met with Nagashima-san, I asked him straight out:
“A trade?”
I was an outfielder, and I knew Harimoto would overlap with my position. But Nagashima-san immediately dismissed the idea and said:
“I’m not letting you go.”
Then he added:
“How about trying third base?”
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<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="Why the unusual conversion was a success"></div>
<h2>Career-high batting average after switching positions</h2>
<figure id="attachment_431477" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1024px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-431477"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="e60f0bc5"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/07/6a7985509a534c645f0261571d131603.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-431477" class="wp-caption-text">After retiring, Mr. Takada served as manager and GM for multiple teams in both the Central and Pacific Leagues, including the Yakult Swallows.</figcaption></figure>
I had never played infield even once during my amateur years, and I had even won a Golden Glove as an outfielder in the pros—yet he said that to me.
Still, given the circumstances, I was ready to be traded, so I accepted it and said, “Understood.” To make that unusual position switches a success, Nagashima-san personally took the fungo bat in hand and trained me. Thanks to his guidance, I went on to hit a career-high .305 in 1976, and the team also won the league championship that year.
Looking back, it was that position change that allowed me to keep playing at the top level for five more seasons. It extended my career. Turning a 30-something outfielder with zero infield experience into a third baseman—critics slammed it as impossible or nonsense, but Nagashima-san never entertained the idea of giving up before even trying. With his animal-like instinct and sharp eye for a player’s hidden potential, once he decided “this can work,” he had the courage to go through with it no matter what others said.
The “Make Drama” comeback—overturning an 11.5-game deficit to win the championship—was just the same. Everyone around him thought it was impossible, reckless even, but Nagashima-san truly believed it. His positive attitude and fighting spirit pulled the players along with him. We started to believe too. And then, the miracle really happened.
Nagashima-san always approached baseball with creativity and positivity, trying to enjoy the game and bring joy to the fans. I was lucky to take on those challenges alongside him.
In the special memorial issue <a href="https://amzn.to/44DOlNE">“Memorial Emergency Extra Edition: Shigeo Nagashima – Never Forget Number 3” (Kodansha)</a>, now on sale, Mr. Takada also shares in detail about Nagashima-san’s heartfelt words and masterful decision-making that were so characteristic of him.

 Takeaki Yoshimi

 Kyodo News (1st photo)

 Shigeo Nagashima, "Mr. Professional Baseball," passed away on June 3. His brilliance will never fade away. Shigeru Takada, who worked with Shigeo Nagashima for many seasons as his colleague and subordinate, looks back on the past in this special interview.

Takada Reveals How Nagashima Converted Him to Third Base with No Infield Experience

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