The Start of Something Big?

Nomomania!

OK, so the kid ain’t Sandy Koufax or Fernando Valenzuela--not yet. And the standing-room-only crowds aren’t stampeding through the turnstiles to see him pitch--not yet. Nonetheless, we hereby proudly hail the beginning of the Hideo Nomo diamond dynasty. So mark down this date in Dodger baseball history.

From the organization that brought you the first African American major leaguer, the first famous Jewish southpaw and the most famous Mexican one, here comes Mr. Nomo, only 26 but already the most famous Japanese man ever to pick up a rosin bag. He made his formal North American debut before a matinee audience Tuesday at Candlestick Park that included 16,099 paying customers and a tad fewer than 16,000 Far East journalists.

And he dazzled ‘em.

Using a piecemeal, hesitation windup worthy of a street mime, Slo-Mo Nomo all but lulled San Francisco’s batsmen into a trance. Through five maddening innings, the off-balance Giants were able to produce but one hit. Seven struck out--what’s the Japanese word for whiffed ?--and nobody could figure out Nomo, not even Barry Bonds-san.

This historic occasion for baseball so inspired the participants that the Dodgers and Giants struggled mightily all day long to score a run off of anybody, flailing away at 0-0 for 14 innings before the Dodgers lost in the 15th, 4-3.

Possibly Nomo put his own hitters to sleep too.

I have long wondered about the quality of Japanese professional baseball, but Nomo came highly recommended and now I can understand why. This was only one game, sure, but that was no rank amateur out there with his foot on the rubber. That was a man who knew what he was doing, with the stuff to back it up.

One night a few years ago, I found myself on holiday in Kyoto, watching a baseball game on television. There was a contest that night involving the Seibu Lions, playing on a grassless infield, and among the white-capped players stood a very large Caucasian stationed at first base, who turned out to be Larry Parrish.

When his turn came to bat, the erstwhile big league slugger Parrish stepped confidently into the batter’s box, looking for all the world as large as Frank Howard. I suspected that he would hit the first thrown strike halfway to the moon. Instead, not only did Parrish strike out, but he was made to look clumsy and foolish by some Japanese pitcher with three speeds--slow, slower and cryogenically frozen.

I realized then that many Japanese pitchers could get by on expertise and cunning, same as their western counterparts. And that sometime soon one of them would come along with each of these attributes as well as skill and ambition, someone who would hop on a jet to the United States and turn the game of baseball into even more of an international pastime.

Hideo Nomo is that someone.

For a sport desperate to win its following back, this couldn’t come at a better time. Nomo has all the makings of a major drawing card, one who could bring people back to the park at a time when they are staying away by the thousands.

Among other things, Nomo has no past association with any of the major leaguers who alienated many Americans with their 1994 walkout. He is as fresh and unscarred as a newly rubbed Rawlings ball.

For another thing, the novelty of Nomo’s being only the second Japan-born player to appear in the majors will not soon wear off. From one coast to another, he figures to attract great gobs of attention from Asian American baseball fans, just as he has from the throngs of reporters who followed his every movement during spring training, much the way ours would have done had Michael Jordan chosen to play with the Nippon Ham Fighters.

Nomomania could catch on.

Should his success continue and rate him a permanent place in the Dodger rotation, imagine the growing excitement. Little Leaguers might mimic his slo-mo delivery. Vin Scully could say on the radio, “Here’s the windup,” then go to a commercial, then announce which opponent the Dodgers will be playing on Helmet Night, then finally finish the sentence: “ . . . and the pitch.”

On the second day of May, a new player took his place among the many distinguished and ethnically diverse names of Dodger lore.

And guess what?

Someday soon, the World Series really will be a world series.