LOS ANGELES — THE MOMENT met Shohei Ohtani on Friday night, as it so often has this month — eighth inning, down a run, Game 1 of a much-hyped World Series teeming with intensity. Ohtani scorched a line drive off the right-field fence, popped up from a slide at second base and yelled toward his teammates. Realizing the baseball had scooted away, he sprinted to third, placing the tying run within 90 feet. Ohtani roared again and implored a sold-out Dodger Stadium crowd to join him. A pitching change followed, at which point Ohtani returned to his dugout to hug and high-five as many teammates as he could before resuming the task at hand.
So much was still uncertain at that point. Ohtani hadn’t yet motored home on Mookie Betts’ sac fly; Freddie Freeman hadn’t yet delivered the walk-off grand slam in the 10th, sealing the Los Angeles Dodgers’ 6-3 victory over the New York Yankees. And yet, to Ohtani, it didn’t seem to matter. He was once again embracing his moment — the type of moment he’d spent his whole life longing for.
“Simply put,” Ohtani said recently, “I’m grateful to be in this environment.”
Ohtani came to the United States seven years ago with a desire to compete for championships and become a legendary figure within his sport, two pursuits intrinsically linked. He then spent his first six seasons in Anaheim, California, without playing so much as a September game that mattered. Near the end of his run as an Angel, a video surfaced of Ohtani seemingly on the verge of tears after a heart-wrenching loss on Aug. 3, 2023. Losing pained him in ways he would not let on publicly, but many of those around him noticed.
Winning has seemed to unlock the best version of Ohtani. In the run-up to this postseason and now during it, Ohtani’s performance has often elevated, but so has his emotion — to a pure, unadulterated joy that has transcended language, diverged from his stoic persona and made him seem, well, human.
“He’s a regular dude, just like you and me,” Betts said. “He just has a superpower.”
MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL commissioner Rob Manfred describes Ohtani as having a “regal bearing.” The cameras are always on him, but his demeanor remains positive. His singular popularity is a product of his ability to take on a two-way role and his propensity for shattering records, but also, Manfred said, “There’s a charisma, an appeal about him that draws people.”
October has brought out something else: swagger. Ohtani is sauntering after home runs, booing himself in opposing ballparks, screaming into the ears of unsuspecting teammates, quipping to questions about his nervousness and yelling at umpires who interrupt balls in play, revealing an authenticity that has often been elusive.
It’s an added layer MLB hopes to capitalize on.
“The competitiveness, the desire to win, beyond individual accolades, really has come out,” Manfred said in a phone conversation. “I think it’s added a dimension to him that’s really appealing.”
MLB displayed 113 pieces of outdoor advertising in Tokyo ahead of the playoffs. Ohtani’s first postseason series then triggered record-setting viewership in his home country. Game 5 of the National League Division Series — pitting Yu Darvish against Yoshinobu Yamamoto in the first ever postseason matchup of Japanese-born starting pitchers — became the most-watched MLB postseason game ever in Japan, with 12.9 million viewers. Another 7.5 million watched domestically, according to data provided by MLB. Game 1 of the NL Championship Series drew 20.6 million average viewers in the U.S. and Japan combined, with Ohtani’s home country providing 12.1 million.
Japan viewership numbers for the remainder of the NLCS are not yet available because the games aired on cable, rather than over the air. But it was the most watched LCS round in seven years by U.S. averages alone. Ohtani — the subject of an oft-used Fox graphic that showed when he might take his turn again and was memed all over X — drove that.
Manfred sees this World Series — featuring not just Ohtani, but Betts, Freeman, Aaron Judge, Juan Soto and Gerrit Cole playing on two of the sport’s most prominent franchises — as “an opportunity for us to grow both nationally and internationally.” His hope is that its star power will transcend regions.
“I think the most important effort we have going right now is to try to make our game more national,” Manfred said. The way our game has been covered, particularly on the broadcast side, it’s regional sports networks — local, local, local. And I think the combination of two iconic franchises, great players … provide us with an opportunity to break out of this, ‘They’re interested in New York,’ and, ‘They’re interested in L.A.’ and getting to a mode where they’re interested all across the United States.”
THE DODGERS SIGNED Ohtani with the thought that coupling his fame with their brand would be a boon for their business, the type that might make a $700 million guarantee seem practical. But their projections, CEO Stan Kasten said, “turned out to be woefully conservative.” The Dodgers have announced sponsorship agreements with 11 different Japanese companies this year. Two Ohtani bobblehead giveaways prompted fans to line up outside their ballpark up to 10 hours before the first pitch. Japanese-guided tours through Dodger Stadium — a twice-a-day, four-day-a-week addition this season — never relented.
They underestimated all those elements. They couldn’t fathom another.
“One thing that helped us that I couldn’t have predicted,” Kasten said, “was the wall that came down once we got through that first day or two in Korea.”
What began with ESPN and The Los Angeles Times inquiring about wire transfers sent from Ohtani’s bank account to an offshore bookmaker while the Dodgers opened their season in South Korea in March ended with his longtime interpreter, Ippei Mizuhara, admitting to stealing nearly $17 million to pay off a string of gambling debts. In the wake of firing Mizuhara, who has since pleaded guilty to bank- and tax-fraud charges, Dodgers manager Dave Roberts talked about how removing such an ever-present “buffer” would open up the lines of communication with Ohtani and perhaps help him become more engaging.
The next seven months bore that out.
“We didn’t quite get to experience and take advantage of the personality that he was, the fun-loving character that he was — that didn’t come out until after we got through that awful first day in Korea,” Kasten said. “Once that came out, and once we understood better who he is, and he understood better who we are, and that we were all pulling for each other, I think that just opened him up.”
Early on, though, there were growing pains.
They manifested in higher leverage. Ohtani finished April with seven hits in 38 at-bats with runners in scoring position. And despite posting mythical numbers, his performance in run-scoring situations noticeably paled in comparison over the season’s first five months. By the end of August, Ohtani’s OPS with runners in scoring position, .682, was more than 300 points lower than it was overall.
“In the beginning of the season, I think I had a very strong desire to fit in with the team as soon as possible,” Ohtani, speaking through an interpreter, explained. “And I think that was kind of leaking into my at-bats. As the season progressed and as we got into the second half, I felt like I had more of my at-bats.”
AS THE STAKES ratcheted up in a late-season division race, those who share a clubhouse with Ohtani believe the approach of playoff baseball enlivened him.
On the night he clinched his first postseason appearance and became the charter member of the 50/50 club, Ohtani put together one of history’s greatest single-game performances, going 6-for-6 with 3 home runs, 10 RBIs and 2 stolen bases in Miami on Sept. 19. It marked the beginning of a 10-game stretch in which he went 12-for-14 with runners in scoring position.
Ohtani finished his regular season four batting-average points shy of a Triple Crown, batting .310 with 54 homers, 130 RBIs and 59 stolen bases, all but ensuring the first-ever MVP for a full-time designated hitter. And once October came around, any concerns about how Ohtani might handle the pressure of his first postseason quickly ceased.
“It never feels like there’s no moment too big, no moment too small,” Dodgers third baseman Max Muncy said. “When he steps in the box, you feel like he’s going to do something special. More often than not, he doesn’t disappoint. He’s incredible.”
Ohtani’s second postseason at-bat, early in Game 1 of the National League Division Series, shook Dodger Stadium. His 31st, late in Game 3 of the following round, left a packed Citi Field stunned. The time between those two instances — a heat-seeking missile over the right-center-field fence in Los Angeles and a towering drive that sailed way above the right-field foul pole in New York — provided a bizarre juxtaposition.
Ohtani had spent much of the summer fending off concerns over his ability to produce at a game’s most important moments. Now the opposite was occurring. The latter home run made him the first expansion-era player to compile as many as 17 hits in a 20-at-bat stretch with runners in scoring position. By that point, remarkably, he was also hitless in 22 postseason at-bats with nobody on base.
Ohtani continually stated that his approach — designed to exert as much damage as possible, regardless of the situation — had not wavered. At one point he chalked it up to an anomaly. But Freeman gave him grief nonetheless. And so, the following afternoon, in Game 4 of the NL Championship Series, Ohtani hit a leadoff home run — naturally, with nobody on base — and pointed in Freeman’s direction before beginning his trot around the bases.
Some of the Dodgers’ players howled.
“He’s got a lot bigger personality than what any of us expected,” Dodgers utility man Enrique Hernández said. “He likes to joke around a lot. He likes to have a good time. He has this childish energy to him, which is great. I think that allows him to disconnect from the fact that there’s this huge pressure on his shoulders because that’s what comes with not only being the greatest player in the game but potentially, possibly, the best ever.”
Throughout this week, in the vacant space between a pennant-clinching victory and the start of a highly anticipated World Series, clips of Ohtani in revelry have continually populated digital platforms. And whether it’s getting doused in champagne by Jack Flaherty, trading beer pours with Roberts or playfully chastising others for their sobriety, Ohtani’s jubilance has been striking. They reveal a man not only enjoying his first taste of the postseason, but basking in it.
“We’ve seen his emotions grow over the year,” Dodgers reliever Alex Vesia said. “It’s just him becoming more and more himself, and being comfortable showing it.”
Perhaps it is now — on a high-profile team of stars, within the intensity of late October baseball, at a time when MLB is salivating over the potential of its biggest headliner on its grandest stage — that Ohtani’s truest self has emerged.
“He’s become, over the course of the season, I think, who he intrinsically is,” Roberts said. “He’s very isolated, very quiet, stays to himself, private. But I do think that naturally he is a goofy person. He’s fun-loving. He’s a crazy good competitor. So I think that when he sees people having fun, enjoying themselves in moments, I think we’ve seen more of that over the course of the season. I think that’s a good thing for him because it’s honest. And I think that’s a good thing for our players to see that, ‘Man, this guy is not just a robot. He’s like a real person who has emotions.'”
