Welcome, Ichiro.(Ichiro Suzuki)(Brief Article)

They threw quarters and ice cubes at him in Oakland. They stole $4,000 in Japanese yen from his father's rented van in Seattle. They called a radio station in Chicago and vowed to taunt him from the Bullpen Sports Bar, a double-decked den of heckling inequity inside Comiskey Park.

Welcome to America, Ichiro. Hopefully, these are small, demented pockets of bigots and losers who will vanish in days and years to come. Hopefully, we're progressive enough in this country, properly respectful and fair, to accept a Japanese ballplayer as a super-hero. Because Ichiro Suzuki is not going anywhere--except maybe the All-Star Game, the World Series and a career of significant impact with the Seattle Mariners. If folks would stop hurling objects and boos long enough to watch him, they'd see the most delightful story in baseball,

"Just an amazing guy," marvels Mariners general manager Pat Gillick, who signed the import for $14 million, a mere $238 million less than the departed Alex Rodriguez got in Texas.

I know what you're thinking. Who does this Ichiro dude think he is, arriving on our shores and demanding solo-name treatment? First names work for Tiger, Michael, various gangsta rappers and possibly Britney, depending on what she's wearing, but never for a 160-pound wisp of a tight fielder in his first month in the majors.

Do yourself a favor. Give him a long look. He's the one stylin' in skinny sideburns and shades, looking like a club kid. He's the one diving into the plate, dating the pitcher to hit him, putting the ball in play with a slashing swing, bullet-training down the line in 3.8 seconds, rarely striking out.

Maybe he'll hit a game-winning home mn, as he did the first week of the season. Maybe he'll use his explosive arm to throw out a runner and save a victory, as he did the second week. Maybe he'll leap against the fence to fetch a dangerous liner, as he did the third week. And maybe you'll finally get it and shout out his preferred moniker.

"EE-cheer-o!"