D-Mat to Dice-K: What's in a Name?
Daisuke Matsuzaka is known to America as Dice-K -- a chic respelling of his first name. Yet he began his American odyssey as D-Mat, a name bestowed upon him by his agent. Here is why Dice-K matters - and D-Mat is, thankfully, long forgotten.
Through the whole Daisuke Matsuzaka signing drama this past fall and winter, there was one thing that made me cringe. It wasn't that they were throwing enough money to feed a third world country for two years, at a guy who plays a game for a couple of hours once a week, though maybe it should have been. It wasn't the hoopla over the "gyroball," which, even if Matsuzaka threw it (he doesn't), is apparently nothing more than a glorified change-up. It wasn't the Japanese media mob that followed the soon-to-be Red Sox pitcher-cum-superstar everywhere and reported on every minute detail of his life. Nope, the one thing that made me cringe was a single moment when Matsuzaka's Agent, Scott Boras decided to "...kind of introduce D-Mat to everyone, and everyone to us."
At this point, I realized that Boras was either exemplifying the hubris that Americans have unfortunately become associated with around the world, or that he was being flat-out lazy. Maybe both. Here he was, trying to get an organization to cough up a hundred million dollars for his client, yet he didn't see the need to learn the guy's name? He couldn't have said, "I'd like to introduce Daisuke Matsuzaka," or just "I'd like to introduce Daisuke." Heck, "Mr. Matsuzaka," would have been fine, even if Boras butchered the pronunciation. At least it would show the flock of Japanese reporters that he was making an effort. Instead, he gave us "D-Mat," a name that was begging for Matsuzaka's first bad game, when America's army of sportswriters could point out that the "D" could stand for "Door."
I understand the importance of marketing. Most, if not all the 50 million dollars the Red Sox paid just to talk to Matsuzaka will probably be recouped through endorsements and merchandise. Obviously, Boras thought Matsuzaka needed a catchy name. And sure, we already have A-Rod, and K-Rod, thus proving that the formula of "first initial plus first three letters of the last name" seems to work okay. That is, unless you consider the other big name stars who are easily recognizable without that silly formula - and probably better off without it. Most baseball fans have heard of Manny Ramirez, who in Boras's world would be "M-Ram," a name that sounds like the next generation of computer memory. Roger Clemens would undoubtedly be "R-Clem," which sounds vaguely like an STD. Maybe one could argue that Matsuzaka has a long, foreign name that doesn't roll off the tongue of English-speaking fans. Yet, Ichiro seems to be doing just fine as Ichiro. Even Hideki Matsui is either called by his Japanese nickname, Godzilla, or as just plain-old Hideki Matsui.
Thankfully, and perhaps even reflecting positively on America's dealings with other cultures and languages, an anonymous Red Sox fan showed up to see Matsuzaka, and carried a sign with a picture of a couple of dice, with the letter "K" after them. This pictograph was meant not as a catchy nickname, but to illustrate the pronunciation of Matsuzaka's real first name, Daisuke. In a sense it has worked as both: the now-common spelling "Dice-K" change the pronunciation slightly from the flatly-intonated "Daisuke" to the very chic-sounding "Dice-K" (and if you can't hear the difference, try listening to a Japanese sportscaster say his name).
"Dice-K" has taken off so well that Boras's embarrassing nickname has been all but forgotten. Dice-K looks cool, sounds cool, and importantly, keeps us from having to refer to Matsuzaka by a silly, formulaic name that could only have been explained by a complete lack of effort to learn his real one. Yeah, headlines about "rolling the dice" or "the dice getting rolled" became clichéd before the guy even pitched his first game, though a year from now, there will still be sportswriters who think it's clever. Long after its novelty has worn off, however, the name itself will still be great for one reason: Dice-K is Daisuke. At least, it's pretty darn close. And that counts for a lot.
With Major League Baseball continuing to expand its player pool to other countries, particular in the Far East, there will be plenty more names that are unfamiliar to the American ear and tongue. Already, there are players from Taiwan, Japan, and South Korea, not to mention the players from Central America and the Caribbean who have been in the league for years. Baseball is even catching on in China, and it won't be surprising to see a Chinese player break into the majors before long. I don't want to overstate the impact, but baseball has a real chance to force many Americans to learn about other countries, and vice versa. One great thing that baseball has going for it is that, except for the WBC, teams are not broken down by nationality. Unlike say, the Olympics, in the MLB, you can see fans in Boston cheering for a player from Japan, fans in New York cheering for a player from South Korea, or fans in Texas cheering for a player from the Dominican Republic. As more non-American players enter the league, that will only become more common.
One of the best ways we can take advantage of all this is a simple one: learn their names. Or at least try to. Even if we don't get the pronunciation exactly right, and most of us won't, the effort can count for a lot.
So bring on the Daisukes, the Ichiros, the Chan Hos, the Chien-Mings. Better yet, bring on the Dice-Ks. Because then, at least we can say, "we're trying."
At this point, I realized that Boras was either exemplifying the hubris that Americans have unfortunately become associated with around the world, or that he was being flat-out lazy. Maybe both. Here he was, trying to get an organization to cough up a hundred million dollars for his client, yet he didn't see the need to learn the guy's name? He couldn't have said, "I'd like to introduce Daisuke Matsuzaka," or just "I'd like to introduce Daisuke." Heck, "Mr. Matsuzaka," would have been fine, even if Boras butchered the pronunciation. At least it would show the flock of Japanese reporters that he was making an effort. Instead, he gave us "D-Mat," a name that was begging for Matsuzaka's first bad game, when America's army of sportswriters could point out that the "D" could stand for "Door."
I understand the importance of marketing. Most, if not all the 50 million dollars the Red Sox paid just to talk to Matsuzaka will probably be recouped through endorsements and merchandise. Obviously, Boras thought Matsuzaka needed a catchy name. And sure, we already have A-Rod, and K-Rod, thus proving that the formula of "first initial plus first three letters of the last name" seems to work okay. That is, unless you consider the other big name stars who are easily recognizable without that silly formula - and probably better off without it. Most baseball fans have heard of Manny Ramirez, who in Boras's world would be "M-Ram," a name that sounds like the next generation of computer memory. Roger Clemens would undoubtedly be "R-Clem," which sounds vaguely like an STD. Maybe one could argue that Matsuzaka has a long, foreign name that doesn't roll off the tongue of English-speaking fans. Yet, Ichiro seems to be doing just fine as Ichiro. Even Hideki Matsui is either called by his Japanese nickname, Godzilla, or as just plain-old Hideki Matsui.
Thankfully, and perhaps even reflecting positively on America's dealings with other cultures and languages, an anonymous Red Sox fan showed up to see Matsuzaka, and carried a sign with a picture of a couple of dice, with the letter "K" after them. This pictograph was meant not as a catchy nickname, but to illustrate the pronunciation of Matsuzaka's real first name, Daisuke. In a sense it has worked as both: the now-common spelling "Dice-K" change the pronunciation slightly from the flatly-intonated "Daisuke" to the very chic-sounding "Dice-K" (and if you can't hear the difference, try listening to a Japanese sportscaster say his name).
"Dice-K" has taken off so well that Boras's embarrassing nickname has been all but forgotten. Dice-K looks cool, sounds cool, and importantly, keeps us from having to refer to Matsuzaka by a silly, formulaic name that could only have been explained by a complete lack of effort to learn his real one. Yeah, headlines about "rolling the dice" or "the dice getting rolled" became clichéd before the guy even pitched his first game, though a year from now, there will still be sportswriters who think it's clever. Long after its novelty has worn off, however, the name itself will still be great for one reason: Dice-K is Daisuke. At least, it's pretty darn close. And that counts for a lot.
With Major League Baseball continuing to expand its player pool to other countries, particular in the Far East, there will be plenty more names that are unfamiliar to the American ear and tongue. Already, there are players from Taiwan, Japan, and South Korea, not to mention the players from Central America and the Caribbean who have been in the league for years. Baseball is even catching on in China, and it won't be surprising to see a Chinese player break into the majors before long. I don't want to overstate the impact, but baseball has a real chance to force many Americans to learn about other countries, and vice versa. One great thing that baseball has going for it is that, except for the WBC, teams are not broken down by nationality. Unlike say, the Olympics, in the MLB, you can see fans in Boston cheering for a player from Japan, fans in New York cheering for a player from South Korea, or fans in Texas cheering for a player from the Dominican Republic. As more non-American players enter the league, that will only become more common.
One of the best ways we can take advantage of all this is a simple one: learn their names. Or at least try to. Even if we don't get the pronunciation exactly right, and most of us won't, the effort can count for a lot.
So bring on the Daisukes, the Ichiros, the Chan Hos, the Chien-Mings. Better yet, bring on the Dice-Ks. Because then, at least we can say, "we're trying."
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