[Personal Account] Shuhei Fukuda Reveals His “Sweat and Tears” MLB Challenge After Years as a Defensive and Speed Specialist

Struggling with the language barrier

Today, I am with the Triple-A team called the Tacoma Rainiers. I woke up at 9 a.m., had breakfast at a nearby Starbucks, and checked today’s practice schedule while drinking coffee. The game started at 6 p.m., but I arrived at the stadium shortly after 11 a.m. and studied English using an app. Although studying may be an exaggeration—it is only around a junior high school level of English.

When I come across words or expressions I do not understand during conversations with players and fellow coaches, I use a translation app, and then I review them afterward. Today, the word “anticipate” came up many times. We were talking about how, as outfielders, players need to anticipate different situations and move accordingly. I have to somehow learn how to use anticipate naturally.

Japanese players have been active in MLB for many years, but Hideaki Fukuda (37) is the first former NPB position player to sign with an MLB organization as a coach. He joined the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks in 2007 as the first-round pick in the high school player draft. After playing for the Chiba Lotte Marines and Kufu Hayate Ventures Shizuoka, the defensive and baserunning specialist retired in 2024. Wanting to see different kinds of baseball, he contacted MLB through his agency. Since May of last year, he has been working as a coach, traveling among the Seattle Mariners’ academy in the Dominican Republic, rookie leagues, the minor leagues, and the major leagues while teaching defensive and baserunning techniques.

After lunch, I help with early work starting at 1 p.m. We do stretching, play catch, and then split into about three groups to go through the practice drills. I mainly oversee outfield defense and baserunning. Outfielders play defense when they are not batting, so I communicate with them there and give them advice during baserunning practice. Since there is only one hitting coach in the minor leagues, I also serve as a batting practice pitcher. Sometimes I work as the first-base coach during games.

After games, the coaches hold meetings over dinner together. Sometimes we do not leave the stadium until close to 11 p.m., but the physical demands are not the hardest part—the language barrier is. If I take too long to translate something, the players leave the spot. If more than 10 seconds pass, the opportunity is already gone. I feel nervous about every coaches’ meeting as well. I analyze the previous game, think through each player’s challenges, and prepare materials in English using AI as well. I make thorough preparations before going in, but even then, unexpected questions come flying at me, and my heart starts pounding.

A great introduction: “A home run off Ohtani”

I participated in last year’s spring training as a trainee. I had never played in America, let alone in the major leagues, so people looked at me as if to say, “Who is this guy?”

In MLB, there are still many people who believe that the level of Japanese baseball is below Triple-A. Since there are objective differences in areas such as the average velocity of starting pitchers, there is some justification for that perception.

Even with stars like Shohei Ohtani (31) and Yoshinobu Yamamoto (27), who have won major titles and MVP awards, some people think, “They are special cases.”

However, I also had confidence because I had made a living through defense and baserunning. So I thought, “Fine, then I’ll show them everything I can do.” I took my position in center field and moved around exactly as I would in a real game.

I demonstrated the defensive skills I had refined since my days with the Hawks—the ability to turn my eyes away from the ball immediately after contact and sprint at full speed toward the predicted landing point. Soon, I was bombarded with questions like, “How can we get a first step like Shuhei’s?” The way the coaches viewed me completely changed.

America is a meritocracy. By showing my ability on the field, I earned their recognition, which eventually led to my coaching contract.

By the way… earlier I mentioned that Ohtani and Yamamoto are special, but the thing that impresses people the most about my career is that I have hit two home runs each off pitcher Shohei Ohtani and Yoshinobu Yamamoto.

Whenever a new player joins the team, my teammates say, “Shuhei, show this guy the video of when you crushed a home run off Ohtani as your introduction!” That happens all the time.

During a pregame meeting before facing Tomoyuki Sugano (36, Rockies), the analyst played footage of the home run I hit against him and said, “This is how you hit Sugano!” (laughs).

Last offseason, Fukuda received an invitation from the Mid East Falcons of Baseball United, the first professional baseball league in the Middle East and South Asia, and played there for one month.

“I thought that by applying the knowledge I gained as a coach to my own body, I would be able to explain things to players more effectively.”

What I reconfirmed was that what the Hawks are doing is cutting-edge. The defensive techniques I learned in Fukuoka are one example. Even now, I still get better starts than many of the young minor leaguers. I teach players, “Keep your center of gravity low and always practice exploding into your first step—even on foul balls.”

Ichiro (52), special assistant to the chairman and instructor for the Mariners, is respected far more than most people probably imagine. When he comes to the ballpark, not only players but even coaches hesitate to approach him and watch him from a distance.

From such a legendary figure, Ichiro taught me techniques that completely changed my perspective.

For example, judging fly balls. In both Japan and the United States, players are taught to use what is called a “shuffle,” making small quick hops while judging the ball. But Ichiro says, “With that method, your line of sight moves up and down, which can lead to mistakes. It is better to be still at the exact moment the batter makes contact with the ball and receive that instant with a stable view.”

Ichiro’s “Words of Wisdom”

From the moment a pitcher begins his delivery until the ball reaches the catcher’s mitt takes about 1.0 seconds for the fastest pitchers and around 1.5 seconds even for slower ones. During that brief span, you can take a sufficient secondary lead and prepare to receive the moment of contact with both feet firmly planted on the ground. When I actually tried it, I realized it really did make judging the ball easier. In particular, I felt that mistakes like charging forward on a line drive with topspin hit toward the infield and getting doubled up would definitely decrease.

When young players and coaches watched Ichiro’s batting practice during spring training, they all asked the same thing: “Why does Ichiro practice pulling inside pitches so much?” Ichiro’s batting practice is about hitting the most difficult pitches with the correct form.

The most difficult pitch is the fastball that cuts deep inside. Some hitters are naturally good at handling it, but an inside fastball requires starting the swing early, making it generally one of the hardest pitches to square up. Ichiro practices hitting it cleanly by bringing the bat from inside the body and making solid contact, while avoiding producing a topped ball or a grounder.

Because every player has different strengths and weaknesses, not everyone can use the techniques Ichiro taught in exactly the same way. Even so, the tools and options I can offer as a coach have definitely increased.

“What makes an excellent coach?”

When I asked Ichiro this question, he answered: “A coach who tells the truth.”

By truth, he meant what you genuinely think. Some coaches worry that players will become upset or that their relationship will suffer, so they give compliments they do not truly mean. But that does not help the player.

“When you become a coach, everyone becomes better at baseball.”

Ichiro also said this.

Many coaches only remember their best moments and the things they themselves were able to do. When that happens, their teaching becomes: “Why can’t you do this?” They ask, “Why can’t you throw strikes?” or “Why do you swing at balls?”

But I was also a player who couldn’t do those things. If everyone could immediately do what they were told, everyone would become a superstar. I made a promise to myself: “I will never forget how players feel when they are still struggling.”

When I was playing for Kufu Hayate, I once put two hamburg steaks on my plate in the cafeteria, only to be stopped and told, “One per person.” It made me realize how different the environments can be, even within the same sport. I thought, “I want to see teams overseas too.” My first destination on this journey to understand baseball more deeply was America.

The other day, outfielder Rylan Thomas (26), who had been on the Mariners’ 40-man roster, was suddenly designated for assignment (DFA — removed from the roster, effectively meaning he was no longer part of the team’s plans). He was an outfielder I had worked with since last year, a contact hitter with a style similar to Ichiro’s. I really liked how he focused on simply getting on base.

When I hugged Rylan and said goodbye with tears in my eyes,

“Let’s meet again somewhere,”

he later ended up playing for the opposing team that very day. I thought, “This is America,” but seeing a player I had been involved with succeed made me happy. Just seeing him get a good jump on a ball in the outfield brings a smile to my face. Every small success they achieve becomes my joy.

What is a coach? I am still learning how to answer that question, but at this point I would say:

“A partner who walks alongside players striving toward their ideals.”

That is probably what a coach should be.

The passion Fukuda Shuhei has for the players is endless. His journey as a coach is, above all, passionate and powerful.

From the July 10, 2026 issue of “FRIDAY”