No ‘Rime’ or Reason to Impatient Mariners
After leading the team to a surprising 85-win season last year, the last place Mariners fire manager Don Wakamatsu.



Don Wakamatsu talks to his players during Spring training at Camelback Ranch in Glendale, Arizona during his first season as manager of the Seattle Mariners. On Monday, Wakamatsu was fired after the team floundered to a 42-70 record in his second season at the helm. (MIKEY HIRANO CULROSS/Rafu Shimpo)

By JORDAN IKEDA

Rafu Sports Editor

The hits keep coming for the Japanese/Japanese American MLB community—only they aren’t the ones needed to win ballgames.

Monday, Seattle Mariners manager Don Wakamatsu along with bench coach Ty Van Burkleo and pitching coach Rick Adair, were given the boot as the scapegoats for a season lost to unrealistic expectations, injuries, and the curious inability to score any runs.

After helping to turn around a franchise-worst 61 wins into an 85-win campaign in his first year, Wakamatsu leaves the Mariners at the same low point he joined them, dead last in the American League West with a 42-70 record—or, more specifically, on pace to win 61 games.

“I have concluded that these changes needed to be made now and that they are in the best interest of the Mariners as we move forward,” general manager Jack Zduriencik said Monday.

“Don, Ty and Rick are all good baseball men and they have done their very best. But we are where we are. I no longer have confidence [they] are the right long-term fit for our organization. New leadership is needed and it is needed now.”

Ironic the choice of words Zduriencik used. “We are what we are.”

The Mariners were terrible offensively last year. They scored 640 runs, the worst mark in the AL, matched by their AL-worst OPS, and their bottom four finishes in batting average, RBI, and homeruns. While fantastic defensively thanks to solid glovework and a pitching staff that posted the league’s best ERA and WHIP, the Mariners’ 85 wins was extremely fluky seeing as how they were outscored by 52 runs over the course of the season.

That’s what the Mariners were and continue to be. A team rooted in defense and pitching that has absolutely no punch in the middle of the lineup.

The Mariners are currently dead last in the entire MLB in runs per game with a paltry 3.25, more than .25 runs less than the next worst team, as well as dead last in homeruns. The two highest batting averages on the roster are the two players at the top of the order. Ichiro Suzuki leads the team in average, while Figgins comes in second with at .254. Yes, .254.

What’s even more incredible is that Ichiro’s .753 OPS leads the team! That means the Mariners best power threat is its leadoff hitter. As a squad, the Mariners are hitting a whopping .236 with 67 total longballs and have no one, outside of Russell Branyan (signed a few weeks ago), that has ever hit 20 homeruns in more than one season. Branyan, the cleanup hitter, is hitting .200 with four home runs, and the No. 3 hitter, Casey Kotchman, is hitting just .215 with seven home runs.

This is the squad that Zduriencik put together.

Of course, coming into spring training, everything was supposed to be different. A lot of pundits had the Mariners pegged as the odds-on-favorite to win the AL West (this writer included) what with the Angels getting weaker and none of the other teams making any big moves. Zduriencik pushed his chips all in, trading away promising pitcher Brandon Morrow for hard-throwing reliever Brandon League, trading for 2008 Cy Young-award winner Cliff Lee, and signing speedster Chone Figgins, talented headcase Milton Bradley and defensive whiz Kotchman.

While those were upgrades at certain positions, the bottom line remains that he failed to address the squad’s most glaring need—power.

Everything went south as soon as spring training ended, as Lee missed the first month and a half due to an abdominal injury, Figgins struggled to adjust to life in the two hole, and Bradley was forced to spend time away from the team due to personal problems.

Then “NapGate” happened.

One of the reasons, cited by Wakamatsu himself, that the team was so successful last year was the leadership that first ballot Hall of Famer Ken Griffey Junior added to the clubhouse. This year, for whatever reason, old age, lack of motivation, discontentment, Junior couldn’t cut it. When it was released in the news that he had missed a possible pinch-hit situation because he was sleeping in the clubhouse, rumors of his dissatisfaction with Wakamatsu ran rampant. This despite Wakamatsu’s best efforts to get him in the lineup, every which way possible. Griffey hit .184 with a .454 OPS and ended up retiring quietly.

To make matters worse, two weeks ago, Figgins got into a physical confrontation with Wakamatsu over being benched, and veteran Mike Sweeney (who was ironically brought in to help stabilize the fractured clubhouse and is now with the Phillies) vocalized his displeasure and purposefully neglected to defend his manager.

To add to the futility, Ichiro had the worst month of his career, hitting .246 with a .548 OPS, a problem Wakamatsu speculated (in my mind, rightfully so) was rooted in the fact that teams were not afraid to walk him.

“I think if you have a real productive lineup,” Wakamatsu said last week, “or somebody that they’re worried about, all of a sudden it’s a two-run home run or a three-run home run, I think that’s as much of a factor. But if you walk in that situation, where you’re not intimidated maybe by the meat of the order then I think that’s the case, yeah, where they’re going to pitch him a little bit tougher.’’

The Mariners just wrapped up tying the worst month-ever in franchise history with a 6-22 mark. During that span, they hit .219 while the opposition hit .285. The pitching staff held a 4.54 ERA, but the offense only managed 2.7 runs per game. The team could’ve been pitching with a 3.00 ERA and still lost most of its games.

So, here’s the Mariners reasoning behind canning Wakamatsu in a nutshell: managed the league’s worst offensive team; compiled the league’s second worst record; on pace to tie franchise worst season; just tied worst month in franchise history; had physical confrontation with big offseason acquisition; mishandled swan-song season of most beloved player in franchise history; and lost the clubhouse to outspoken, misguided veterans.

Looked at that way, sure, Wakamatsu had to go.

Of course, looked at a bit differently: the fact that last year should have been Griffey’s swansong; that the manager doesn’t trade players or bring in highly opinionated veterans; that the offense actually lost power hitters from last season when it had one of the least productive lineups in the league; the fact that the star pitcher was injured for the first part of the season; and the fact that instead of adding a power bat when the team struggled early, the team instead fired then hitting coach Alan Cockrell, setting up what is turning into a habit of blame-shifting even at that early juncture in the season.

Add all that up, and it sure does appear that the Mariners former coaching staff was used as the scapegoats for mismanagement at the “general” level.

Solid future planning was uprooted after the excitement last season generated and impatience filled every aspect of what should have continued to be a rebuilding process.

In the end, Wakamatsu took the fall, despite helping to lead the M’s out of the cold wastelands of last place. Going forward, it will be interesting to see how the winds of change continue to dictate the feelings of the Mariners’ faithful.

Regardless, Wakamatsu by all accounts is a solid manager. His laidback approach and attention to defense and pitching are sure to land him another MLB gig in the future. Whether that’s sooner or later is yet to be determined.

After two years at the Big League level, seeing both the highs and lows of the business and how quickly praise can be turned into condemnation, regardless, on the morrow, Wakamatsu will be a “sadder” yet certainly “wiser man.”

Rock Solid Foundation

Clink on title for original link to Rafu Shimpo
As he embarks on a new NFL career, Haruki Rocky Seto continues to be himself.

By JORDAN IKEDA/SPORTS EDITOR &

TREVOR WONG/STAFF WRITER

When the Rafu sat down to interview Haruki “Rocky” Seto in late July out in the San Gabriel Valley, before the first question had escaped our lips, he simply asked if we could pray. Actually, it was more of a statement than a request, but done in such a confident and unassuming manner that we indeed began the interview in prayer.

This, at the heart, is who Rocky Seto is.

A man of God.

He could surely be defined in many other ways. Nisei. Former USC Trojans linebacker. Father of three kids. Football coach.

But he wasn’t just any coach – he was a coach under the leadership of coach Pete Carroll, who helped shape arguably the greatest college football dynasty ever, winning seven straight Pac-10 championships, a record three consecutive Rose Bowl wins and five BCS bowl games. He is a champion, a leader and a former USC defensive coordinator. But tomorrow, in the Mile High City, he’ll be roaming the sidelines for the Seattle Seahawks with a brand new title: NFL assistant coach.

Spend a couple minutes with the man, and you’ll come away seeing him through a different lens. He is easy-going, with a hint of what might be mistaken for a Hawaiian accent, using words like “dude,” and “cool,” Seto exudes confidence while effortlessly remaining humble.

And despite the success he has achieved through football, and despite the fact he has enjoyed and continues to enjoy every minute of his job—the struggles, the wins, the practices, the travel and the players—none of it has come to define who he is as a person.

“With identity, sometimes, you get pushed into certain things that logically fit,” Seto said. “Being a Christian, that’s freed me up from a lot of stuff. You go off of what God calls you to do.”

Born to hard-working Issei parents, Seto grew up in Boyle Heights. Like most Japanese-American (JA) kids raised in Los Angeles during the ‘70s and early ‘80s, Seto adopted his father’s love of John Wooden basketball and John McKay football. On occasion, his father attended USC football games and would later describe to him O.J. Simpson in his glory days. It was from these moments with his dad, that his love of football blossomed into the aim of wearing the Cardinal and Gold.

His family moved to Monterey Park and then to Arcadia where he went to school and played football. After high school, Seto was not “physically or mentally ready” for USC so he opted to attend Mt. San Antonio Community College. His reasoning was simple – the head football coach at Mt. Sac, Bill Fisk, had been an All-American at USC three decades earlier, and that proximity, no matter how marginal, kept alive his dream of playing for USC football.

Three years later, after waiting nearly the entire summer to hear back from USC about walking onto the team, Seto took a leap of faith. He drove out to the campus, entered Heritage Hall, walked amidst the rows of bronze-casted Heisman Trophies and gleaming National Championship trophies, and sought out former coach John Robinson.

“He invited me into his office when I told him that I wanted to play,” Seto said. “He listened to me, then tossed me a notepad. I wrote down my information and a couple weeks later, I got a letter that told me to report to training camp.”


Seto spent 11 seasons working with Pete Carroll at USC and has continued on with Carroll on the Seahawks' staff.
“It’s unbelievable how it happened.”

Seto made the team as a walk-on, though it wasn’t without serious concerns from his parents whose Issei thinking had them struggling with the idea of him playing football. Undeterred, he pressed on and through his perseverance, eventually earned a scholarship during his senior year.

“That scholarship was a huge moment for our family and not just for the financial reasons,” Seto said, emotions causing him, for the first time during the interview, to falter to find the right words. “My father…he literally told me that I made him believe in the impossible.”

That belief was tested again when Seto declined to get his doctorate in physical therapy and instead felt called to coach. His parents just couldn’t understand this line of thinking. Coaching was such a foreign notion to them.

Seto joined the USC coaching staff in 1999 as an unpaid volunteer assistant under then—head coach Paul Hackett, where he worked with the defense and special teams.

“You can see these things where God was leading me in a certain way,” Seto said. “I could see how God was using football to keep me on course. I just wanted to play and I wanted to coach.”

A year later, he was upgraded to an administrative graduate assistant where he would do anything and everything to help out whether it be paperwork, cleaning, putting together scouting reports, getting lunch.

“It was good because it taught me to serve,” Seto said without an ounce of irony in his voice. “As you grow in your profession, as you grow in leadership, I think it’s important that you learn how to become a good follower, so that you are able to meet and understand the needs of the guys that are following you.”

He also learned the tenuous nature of coaching, when he, Hackett and the rest of the staff were let go before the start of the 2001 season. Based on a chance meeting at a USC volleyball game Seto had only attended to impress his then girlfriend (now wife) Sharla, he saw then-newly hired coach Pete Carroll in the stands. Seto introduced himself, talked with him and was offered the graduate assistant position.

A week after he accepted, Seto received a call from the Washington Redskins. One of his fellow coaches under Hackett wanted to know if he was interested in being the graduate assistant. From a purely professional perspective, this was a no-brainer.

He turned it down.

In explaining his decision, Seto references a verse in the book of Matthew in the Bible that states, “Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.” This same verse and the message behind it would play a major role in his decision four years down the road.

In the meantime, he worked two years as the USC graduate assistant, coaching the general defense in 2001 and safeties in 2002. In 2003 he became a full coach, in charge of safeties, and from 2004-2005 he coached linebackers.

Then, coming off a heart-breaking loss to Texas in the 2005 Rose Bowl, Seto was again offered an NFL job. This time, the Buffalo Bills were interested. He flew into Buffalo, aced a four-hour interview conducted by the general manager, head coach, and the defensive coordinator, and was offered the linebackers job right on the spot.

But, it was his wife who gently reminded him of a promise he had made to one of his players at USC, who had asked him if he would leave the team if he was offered an NFL job. Never thinking he would actually get an NFL gig, Seto told the player that all he needed to worry about was football, that he would indeed be back the following year as coach.

“We prayed about it and we decided to stay,” Seto said. “As we have grown older and closer to Jesus Christ, our priorities became a lot clearer. It’s always what’s pleasing to God first, then what’s best for our marriage, then our children, then what’s best for our work … in that order. It didn’t even get past priority number one.”

Another offer, this one to be the defensive coordinator for Steve Sarkisian at the University of Washington, came down to a family decision and was aided with a little advice from John Wooden, who asked Seto if he was happy.

“I was extremely happy,” Seto said. “Coaching at USC was my dream and my family was well taken care of. Plus, California was my home. And I could hear in his voice like he was almost saying, ‘Then what’s the problem?’”

So, Seto continued to live his dream. He coached the secondary for a couple years and last year, he was promoted to be the defensive coordinator. But sometimes living a dream is not all its cracked up to be. Last season didn’t exactly live up to USC football standards—the Trojans finished 9-4, fell short of a Pac-10 title and didn’t qualify for a meaningful bowl game. Furthermore, there were whispers that it was the Trojan defense that lost a few of the closer games.

To top it all off, Carroll left USC for the NFL, the coaching staff was overhauled and the NCAA imposed sanctions on the football program including a bowl ban for two years and stripping former running back, Reggie Bush, of his Heisman Trophy.

“It makes us appear like we were cheating throughout the whole time and it’s sad because that’s not the case,” Seto said. “We weren’t paying the players, getting the parents paid. It’s very, very unfortunate to coach Carroll, the staff and the players for all the hard work that was put in. It puts a negative tone on it. Nonetheless, I was there, coach Carroll was there and it is our responsibility on how things turned out. Unfortunately, all these things that happened…we weren’t able to keep them from happening.”

Despite all this, Seto never regretted his decision in deciding to stay at USC. And despite uncertainty for the future, he never worried, nor wavered in his faith that has helped shape his identity.

“The perception is that we cheated,” he said. “Me too … I was there for 13 years. But perception is a thing you can never control and you should never live for. It’s who you are before God that is the most important thing.

“I believe the more you focus on who you are, perception will take care of itself. And even if it doesn’t, I’m at peace with who I am. Just like this whole probation thing, the perception is very negative. I feel saddened by what’s happened, but for me, because I only answer to God, I feel okay with it.”

Seto explained how fleeting things are—how Heisman Trophies and national championships can disappear as quickly as momentum after a goal-line fumble. He talked about finding peace concerning not coaching after he left USC. He also talked about finally joining the NFL after turning it down twice before.

In January, Carroll brought Seto onboard with the Seahawks as the defensive quality control coach. Now, Seto and his family live two minutes away from where his wife was born and raised. He’s coaching three of his former players, Lofa Tatupu, Mike Williams and Anthony McCoy. And he’s helping to build up a team that has been languishing at the bottom of the NFC for the past several seasons.

Last year, Seattle was one of the worst defensive teams in the NFL.

Last week, they dismantled the 49ers, holding San Francisco to six points.

“The goals remain the same here,” Seto said. “Maximize our team and the team we have right now. The goal, even back at SC, was never to win championships. We never talked that way. The goal was to see how good we could be. To see how far we could go if we maximized ourselves.”

Seto has come a long way since that first time he set foot in Heritage Hall. Never worrying about results whether it be in football or in life, through the highs of championships, to the lows of sanctions, through all of the uncertainty, he has remained certain in his identity.

“God allowed me to experience a lot [at USC],” Seto said. “Those championships were fun, they are life-long memories and they were tremendous. But what’s sold out in the media is the championships, the money and the fame. All those things are really promoted, celebrated and really worshipped—but in the end, if you put your hope in these things, they will disappoint you.”

Seto understands where his identity lies, where his foundation is firmly planted. And he wholly embraces it.

“This is how I am,” he said. “I don’t know how to not be myself. In coaching or anything else, it’s important to be who you are.”

Jeremy Lin-spiration

Suicide lines: Jeremy Lin-spiration; Granger's step back

By Trey Kerby

Each weekday morning, BDL serves up a handful of NBA-related stories to digest with your biscuits and honey.

Kevin Ding, Orange County Register: Before change comes inspiration. Before inspiration, someone must inspire. Here is Jeremy Lin(notes). Even if in his own mind he's merely just another American kid playing ball, here is Jeremy Lin. He's a somewhat reluctant torch-bearer for race. He has not even begun his NBA career and is trying to pursue his dream his way. His reservations are completely understandable - yet altogether secondary to the greater good. He is already someone to so many, and that's the thing about inspiration: It's not about the one causing the inspiration as much as it's about the effect on many. Quick summary of Lin's recent months: unwanted in the June NBA draft, fortunate to have one offer to take part in NBA summer-league play, absolutely captivating against No. 1 overall pick John Wall(notes) in a televised head-to-head matchup and suddenly in position to turn away teams such as the Lakers to accept an offer from his hometown Golden State Warriors for a partially guaranteed contract that half the guys who were drafted couldn't get. Lin will be in the NBA this season. He is not a pioneer, technically: The NBA is unsure of its exact track record, but Japanese-American Wat Misaka was the league's first non-Caucasian player way back in 1947. Raymond Townsend and Rex Walters followed more recently, their stories begun when born to Asian mothers but hard to read from their bi-racial faces. What people see when they look at Lin's face is clear. Asian publications based in New York, Boston and Washington recently dispatched reporters to San Francisco just because Lin was giving a 5-minute speech to a group of basketball campers. What was said to Lin's face by heckling opposing fans during his four years at Harvard was also clear. For the closed-minded, nothing is more frightening than a true game-changer - and Lin has had to carry that burden. Yes, he went to Harvard; no one offered an athletic scholarship despite Lin being a legit 6-foot-3 and honored as the California prep player of the year. He will be Harvard's first NBA player in nearly 50 years. He posted a 3.1 grade-point average while there and has his degree in economics, thank you very much. There's no doubt that among the inspired now are Lin's fellow academics who can only dream of the cool points of being a professional athlete. But any Ivy League grad torn between risking financial insecurity and pursuit of a less conventional dream should be finding inspiration in Lin, too.

Lin is the NBA's Asian-American inspiration
By KEVIN DING
By KEVIN DING
THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
kding@ocregister.com
Story Highlights

Kevin Ding column: The story of Jeremy Lin becoming a rare Asian-American to make the NBA -- his whirlwind summer included spurning the Lakers -- is an inspiration before Lin even plays his first minute with his hometown Golden State Warriors.


Before change comes inspiration.

Before inspiration, someone must inspire.
Article Tab : rookie-golden-achievement
Golden State Warriors rookie Jeremy Lin appeared in Taipei, Taiwan, on July 28 to commemorate his achievement as the first Taiwanese-American to reach the NBA. Click on the link for more photos of Lin.
WALLY SANTANA, AP

Here is Jeremy Lin. Even if in his own mind he's merely just another American kid playing ball, here is Jeremy Lin.

He's a somewhat reluctant torch-bearer for race. He has not even begun his NBA career and is trying to pursue his dream his way. His reservations are completely understandable – yet altogether secondary to the greater good.

He is already someone to so many, and that's the thing about inspiration: It's not about the one causing the inspiration as much as it's about the effect on many.

Quick summary of Lin's recent months: unwanted in the June NBA draft, fortunate to have one offer to take part in NBA summer-league play, absolutely captivating against No. 1 overall pick John Wall in a televised head-to-head matchup and suddenly in position to turn away teams such as the Lakers to accept an offer from his hometown Golden State Warriors for a partially guaranteed contract that half the guys who were drafted couldn't get.

Lin will be in the NBA this season. He is not a pioneer, technically: The NBA is unsure of its exact track record, but Japanese-American Wat Misaka was the league's first non-Caucasian player way back in 1947. Raymond Townsend and Rex Walters followed more recently, their stories begun when born to Asian mothers but hard to read from their bi-racial faces.

What people see when they look at Lin's face is clear. Asian publications based in New York, Boston and Washington recently dispatched reporters to San Francisco just because Lin was giving a 5-minute speech to a group of basketball campers.

What was said to Lin's face by heckling opposing fans during his four years at Harvard was also clear. For the closed-minded, nothing is more frightening than a true game-changer – and Lin has had to carry that burden.

Yes, he went to Harvard; no one offered an athletic scholarship despite Lin being a legit 6-foot-3 and honored as the California prep player of the year. He will be Harvard's first NBA player in nearly 50 years. He posted a 3.1 grade-point average while there and has his degree in economics, thank you very much.

There's no doubt that among the inspired now are Lin's fellow academics who can only dream of the cool points of being a professional athlete. But any Ivy League grad torn between risking financial insecurity and pursuit of a less conventional dream should be finding inspiration in Lin, too.

He has stayed determined to keep playing basketball despite all obstacles. And now he's a study of American society in so many ways, another being religion because Lin has spoken of his interest in the ministry.

Race, religion, education ... these are the pillars of the house in which we all live together. In his own head, Lin feels like another 22-year-old dude playing Halo on his Xbox. In reality, he's everybody's documentary.

Time Magazine featured Lin in December. CNN did an extended interview with him in August. The New York Times just wrote 1,000 words about him.

Lin's parents came from Taiwan to the U.S., and they embraced the freedom – including Jeremy's computer-engineer father, Gie-Ming, ardently supporting his sons in basketball with the all-American spirit of doing what you are good at and love. That's a stark contrast to typical Asian immigrant parents intent on producing valedictorians who become doctors – or if it must be athletics, perhaps tennis players or figure skaters.

This is another way Lin stands to initiate change here far more than someone like Yao Ming, whose people rushed to capitalize on Lin's emergence with a last-minute invitation to Yao's annual charity game in Taiwan. The reality is that Lin has almost nothing in common with Yao, a 7-foot-5 freak who was born into and groomed through China's communist sports system to be what he became: a basketball Ivan Drago.

That would mean Lin is Rocky Balboa or any other classic underdog. He already lived through his own "Hoosiers" movie by shockingly slaying the mighty Mater Dei Monarchs in the 2006 Division II state championship game.

These days, Lin is largely secluded in the Warriors' practice gym, trying to make up for working harder as a pre-teen playing pickup games against grown men than in structured team practices. He knows he still has much to prove.

Is his 5-on-5 court savvy that didn't come through in individual pre-draft workouts truly that unique? Can he really flash off picks and attack the rim with a fearless burst reminiscent of Dwyane Wade? Will he develop his jumper into a consistent 3-point shot?

If so, he earns the Warriors' backup point-guard job this season, that Asian-American face becomes a lasting image in this place where they say amazing happens, and the inspiration grows.

But make no mistake: Something has already changed.

Someone has made it ... and made it change.