It's a strange thing. In a way, it is. A retired baseball player gives it his all against a group of high school girls. He pitches even harder than he did when he was active, and the result is a complete game victory. In nine innings, he gave up five hits and struck out nine. She threw a whopping 116 pitches, with her fastball reaching 138 mph. (22nd, Tokyo Dome, Japan)

Not the first time. This is the third annual event. The first year (2021) was a nine-inning no-hitter, and the following year was a nine-inning one-hitter. No substitutions. Everyone pitched to the end. That's three consecutive complete games. They had to throw 147 and 131 pitches, respectively. This is Ichiro Suzuki, a living legend who just turned 50.

When he removes his cap, his shaved head is revealed. It's hard to understand why he's playing this game against high school girls. Words like "wrist twist" and "ruthless" also appear. They rented out the Tokyo Dome and broadcast the game live on TV to the entire country.

What's the point of it all? Is it to show off their power, or to boost women's baseball?

To answer this question, we need to look a little farther back. We have to start with the most unlikely of stories.

It happened 14 years ago. It was the spring of 2009. A small welcome dinner was being held at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul. The guest of honor, dressed in a black suit, looks impressed. But something is wrong. He doesn't look healthy. He's in a wheelchair. He's also on oxygen.

"Until a few days ago, I was sick with pneumonia, but I knew I had to come to Korea, because this is the time I've been dreaming of for 35 years. I'm so happy that I've regained my health and can come to Korea that I'm in tears."

His name is Teruki Fujita, and he is the chairman of a foundation that runs several schools in the Kansai region of Japan. He takes a deep breath and continues.

"When I was in the fifth grade at a small school (elementary school), my teacher first taught me about a country called Korea. He told me that it was a great country, like a big brother to Japan. If it wasn't for that teacher, I wouldn't have known the correct history. I think it's the role of an educator to teach students so that Japan doesn't make the same mistakes."

Chiben Gakuen is a history foundation he founded in 1964. It operates eight elementary, middle, and high schools in Wakayama, Nara, and other areas. High school students from these schools come to Korea every year on a school trip. This has been going on since 1975.

There have been many twists and turns. When relations between Japan and South Korea were in serious conflict, and when the crisis was heightened by North Korea's missile launches.... There was a lot of opposition from parents. But we persuaded, persuaded, persuaded. It didn't stop for 45 years until the coronavirus pandemic. More than 20,000 Japanese high school students traveled to Seoul and Gyeongju. ==="To atone for Japan's 35 years of colonization of Korea, and to teach that the origin of Japanese culture is Silla and Baekje." After his death, his son (Kiyoshi Fujita), who became the second chairman of the board, carried on his father's legacy.

It was November, five years ago (2018). Ichiro, then 45, was a man with a lot on his mind: he was at a crossroads between continuing active duty and retirement. But he never stopped training. He's sweating it out near his old stomping grounds (Kobe, Oryx). The field next door is filled with cheers. A regional qualifier for the koshien (high school baseball) tournament is taking place.

You catch a glimpse of the scoreboard. The score is terrible. 12-0. I thought, "Is this a cold game?" I was right. It's hard to get past the fifth inning. One or two outs and it's over.

That's when his eyes and ears go to one place. The cheering section of the losing team in the outfield stands. Hundreds of students, band, and cheerleaders. It's the same scene from the first inning. There's not a single distraction. They don't care about the loss. They clap their hearts out and shout at the top of their lungs. They stayed with the players until the last out.

That was the school. A former student of the (Wakayama) Chiben Gakuen, a school with a unique tradition and educational philosophy.

The retiring legend had a big realization. He formed his own baseball team. He gathers the people around him. Trainers, translators, and acquaintances. The team was named the Kobe Chiben. But I didn't dare use the kanji for "Chiben" because I thought it would be disrespectful. We decided to call ourselves CHIBEN in English as much as possible. 호텔카지노

A year later. He applied to Wakayama Chiben Gakuen. The same school that had impressed him so much. It was the first official match of Ichiro's team, Kobe Chiben, against a team made up of faculty members. The result was predictable. It ended in a 14-0 blowout. Again, Ichiro, the starting pitcher, threw a complete game. By the ninth inning, he had struck out 16 batters.

The following year, the opposition changed. The girls' high school team was their partner. And so it continues for the third year.

Moderation? There is no such thing. I'm already 50 years old. When I go over my pitch limit, I feel pain all over my body. Calves, thighs, lower back, shoulders, elbows. There's no place that doesn't hurt. But I don't give up. I hesitate, then get up and throw again. He limps to the mound.

This is how Ichiro, the founder of the event, owner, manager, coach, and ace pitcher of Kobe Chiben, describes it.