Most nights Valentine goes out to dinner and talks baseball. Those who know him say he's mellowed. "With the Mets we had a lot of meetings," says Agbayani, who played for Valentine on the 2000 World Series team. "[Last] year we had a few meetings, but he's been very calm. He's so supportive. In the Mets days he'd be yelling."
Asked about this, Valentine harrumphs, "Well, there are a lot more reasons to be calm here. I don't have to deal with a lot of the s--- I had to deal with over there."
This is partly by design. In his second stint with the Marines, Valentine was granted nearly absolute power. Uniforms? He designed them. Draftees and new acquisitions? He picked them. New team executives? He recruited them. As his right-hand man he brought in Shun Kakazu, a 26-year-old with a Harvard degree. (He wrote his thesis on undervalued players in Japan.) Kakazu functions as an assistant G.M., going over scouting reports with Valentine and analyzing stats.
To legitimize his success, Valentine realizes he must also legitimize Japanese baseball, which Americans have long thought of as "Four A" ball. This becomes harder with every defection to the States by a Japanese star and every successful transition to the Japanese system by a marginal major leaguer. So whenever possible, Valentine proselytizes on behalf of Japan's league. "I made a statement last year that my team that won the Japanese championship could have played against the [2005 World Series champion] White Sox," he says, "and some baseball people said, 'Oh, hell, the talent level doesn't match up. Bobby's just talking.' My statement was made in the belief that we were playing at the highest level of any team I'd ever seen play. I knew that without a doubt. We didn't have as much talent -- I never said we did, and I never will -- but with our heart and the way we played, the way we built as a team and built individually during that season, we could have beaten any team in the world."
Whether Valentine truly believes this is unclear. But the statement certainly attracted attention -- White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen laughed at it -- and attracting attention is something at which Valentine is an expert. "One of the things people like and dislike most about me," he says, "is that I open my mouth, I say stuff." His whole body comes alive when he launches into an opinion or a story, reveling in triumphs past, foes vanquished. Pull out a tape recorder and he amps the performance up a notch, moving into broadcaster mode. He slows down, emphasizes words, speaks in paragraphs, uses exaggerated hand gestures. When asked over lunch one day if there are common misconceptions about Japanese baseball, his answer lasts more than five minutes. Only the arrival of the food keeps him from going on longer.
Valentine has always been eager to talk, but he is even more eager when a U.S. journalist comes to Japan. After that initial interest from the Devil Rays and the Dodgers at the end of 2005, he's had little contact with Stateside teams. (Although Valentine is under contract with the Marines through the '09 season, he says, "If a baseball conversation leads to a baseball situation that I feel is a great fit, one of those opportunities of a lifetime, I'd talk.") Despite his success, few in the States look to him for advice, something that perplexes him. "You know what I'm really surprised at is that when teams are interested in signing a guy [from Japan] they don't call me," Valentine says. "Information is power, and I got a lot of information here, so I can make other people more powerful here if they want it."
Does he have any idea why teams wouldn't call him? "I don't know," he answers. "I really don't."
Asked about this, Valentine harrumphs, "Well, there are a lot more reasons to be calm here. I don't have to deal with a lot of the s--- I had to deal with over there."
This is partly by design. In his second stint with the Marines, Valentine was granted nearly absolute power. Uniforms? He designed them. Draftees and new acquisitions? He picked them. New team executives? He recruited them. As his right-hand man he brought in Shun Kakazu, a 26-year-old with a Harvard degree. (He wrote his thesis on undervalued players in Japan.) Kakazu functions as an assistant G.M., going over scouting reports with Valentine and analyzing stats.
To legitimize his success, Valentine realizes he must also legitimize Japanese baseball, which Americans have long thought of as "Four A" ball. This becomes harder with every defection to the States by a Japanese star and every successful transition to the Japanese system by a marginal major leaguer. So whenever possible, Valentine proselytizes on behalf of Japan's league. "I made a statement last year that my team that won the Japanese championship could have played against the [2005 World Series champion] White Sox," he says, "and some baseball people said, 'Oh, hell, the talent level doesn't match up. Bobby's just talking.' My statement was made in the belief that we were playing at the highest level of any team I'd ever seen play. I knew that without a doubt. We didn't have as much talent -- I never said we did, and I never will -- but with our heart and the way we played, the way we built as a team and built individually during that season, we could have beaten any team in the world."
Whether Valentine truly believes this is unclear. But the statement certainly attracted attention -- White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen laughed at it -- and attracting attention is something at which Valentine is an expert. "One of the things people like and dislike most about me," he says, "is that I open my mouth, I say stuff." His whole body comes alive when he launches into an opinion or a story, reveling in triumphs past, foes vanquished. Pull out a tape recorder and he amps the performance up a notch, moving into broadcaster mode. He slows down, emphasizes words, speaks in paragraphs, uses exaggerated hand gestures. When asked over lunch one day if there are common misconceptions about Japanese baseball, his answer lasts more than five minutes. Only the arrival of the food keeps him from going on longer.
Valentine has always been eager to talk, but he is even more eager when a U.S. journalist comes to Japan. After that initial interest from the Devil Rays and the Dodgers at the end of 2005, he's had little contact with Stateside teams. (Although Valentine is under contract with the Marines through the '09 season, he says, "If a baseball conversation leads to a baseball situation that I feel is a great fit, one of those opportunities of a lifetime, I'd talk.") Despite his success, few in the States look to him for advice, something that perplexes him. "You know what I'm really surprised at is that when teams are interested in signing a guy [from Japan] they don't call me," Valentine says. "Information is power, and I got a lot of information here, so I can make other people more powerful here if they want it."
Does he have any idea why teams wouldn't call him? "I don't know," he answers. "I really don't."
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