PHOENIX -- In 2022, at the tender age of just 22, Munetaka Murakami painted his masterpiece.
He hit 56 home runs, slashed .318/.458/.710 in a season where the league average OPS was only .678. At one point in the season he homered in five straight plate appearances, "Murakami-sama" was voted Japan's word of the year, and he carried the Yakult Swallows to the best record in NPB and an appearance in the Japan Series, where they lost in six games.
When it was complete, he knew that he wanted the challenge of coming to the United States and playing Major League Baseball.
"I came here for the challenge of being in the major leagues, and not just the challenge, but to really be successful here," Murakami said via interpreter.
The posting system through which NPB players are able to come to the majors offers its own timeline, but indeed Murakami moves through Camelback Ranch like someone who has been plotting this transition for years. The World Baseball Classic is coming up and repeating as champions is massively important to Murakami and Team Japan, but it's nevertheless striking that the slugger oft-criticized for swing-and-miss issues is making some of the loudest and most consistent contact on the backfields.
"Hitting with Mune on the backfield, he's electric," said Kyle Teel. "He's the real deal. Like, he's hitting balls really, really hard."
"The speed of everything is a lot faster in the major leagues," Murakami said via interpreter. "This is what I expected, but also I feel that every day."
His pronunciation of simple English phrases like "nice to meet you," "thank you," "let's go!" is precise. He can deadpan answers with deft comedic timing. He surprised reporters from Telemundo by rattling off Spanish slang at a recent presser, and when he took a moment to praise Chase Meidroth for learning the Japanese word mōhitotsu (one more), as when he praises all White Sox personnel for engaging with him, he's likely underselling his own role in initiating the good relations.
"He's teaching me one word per day, and that was the first word he gave me," Meidroth said. "This is his team, we're all in this together and we're all here together. This is his home and we want to make it feel as much like home as possible for him."
"It’s really nice having a superstar like him next to me and learning how educated he is and how professional he is in his work ethic," said Miguel Vargas, Murakami's closest locker neighbor. "It’s really nice to learn from him."
White Sox coaches have been understandably measured about prescribing any tweaks to one of the most accomplished sluggers in Japanese history, but Murakami is more vocal than anyone in reiterating that he knows he needs to make more contact. He praises hitting coach Derek Shomon for his honesty and curiosity, he confirms his agreement with hitting director Ryan Fuller's assessment that his swing had grown maxed out for leverage, loft and power over the last few years. At their light prodding, he's become an enthusiastic daily user of high-spin foam balls that simulate a more extreme version of fastball ride, and of the Trajekt machine, about which he said he never had access to anything similar in Japan.
"It's really convenient, efficient," Murakami said via interpreter. "I'm able to face a lot of different pitchers and their balls are completely different. Also, I get to face the speed of each pitcher, which is really something that helps me a lot in my game and my transition to the majors."
Murakami has this considered approach to being here, where he seems like he's following a template of NPB stars transitioning to the majors and every complication is at least something he anticipated, even if it can't be simply swatted away. The delirious swarms of fans and media are something he's used to, and the challenge of fighting off feelings of alienation that could come thousands of miles from his home country and the culture he's familiar with is something he shrugs off, saying he's not the kind of person to be affected by that.
It's just a slightly different vibe than what runs through the stories White Sox executives tell about signing him, which have a pacing more akin to a man recalling the time he was struck by lightning.
"It wasn’t something we spent a ton of time on, knowing it was probably out of our reach," said Josh Barfield. "It quickly-- that’s probably one of the quickest processes I’ve ever been through. It was literally days from first talking to him, setting up a Zoom call at 10 o’clock at night and 48 hours later, he’s a White Sox. I know it’s been exciting for us. It’s been exciting for the players too."
"The White Sox are such a young organization with such young players who are uprising at the moment," Murakami said via interpreter, explaining his choice in team. "To grow with them, to build up to having a championship-winning team is one of my wishes that came true."
His comportment has been as good as his word, with every White Sox coach and player praising Murakami's affable personality and engagement with his teammates, even if he has a few hundred more professional home runs in his career than almost all of them. But for someone so self-aware, it stands to reason that he has a deeper level of synergy with a Sox organization trying to prove itself after the horrors of 2024.
If he's aware of his need to make adjustments to make more contact, surely he's aware of all the MLB teams that doubted his ability to succeed in this league for that reason. Right on the heels of battling back from injuries to put up a hellacious 56-game finale in NPB (.273/.379/.663, 211 wRC+), surely it made him feel a certain way.
To this, the legendary Japanese slugger, leaned forward in an office chair at Camelback Ranch, and spoke in English.
"Fucking shit."
A more fleshed out answer followed in Japanese.
"Yeah, I felt fucking shit," Murakami said via interpreter. "See my game. They have to see me play. They can't judge me without seeing me play. This is how I felt."
Others have already gotten this sense of how Murakami feels about proving himself in MLB.
"This is a guy who's very humble, but also with a lot of confidence," Fuller said. "He's coming over here, and it's not just to be OK at the big league level. I'm excited to see that mindset rub off on the rest of the guys here. We certainly have guys who want to do the same in the lineup. A rising tide raises all ships."
If there's a criticism of the Murakami signing that doesn't just scan as being anti-fun, it's that it's too short for this to feel like a permanent marriage. Two years is a prudent length that allows the Sox to back away with little damage from this project if it doesn't work, but it doesn't perfectly jibe with mid-February romantic spring optimism that Murakami might be their next superstar.
But maybe instead, Murakami and the White Sox mission aligning for this short period of time offers something that seasons on the South Side have also been sorely missing: urgency.
"Whatever we can do to take that championship, I'll be doing that with the team," Murakami said via interpreter. "That's my only goal."
