In January 2014, everything seemed to be going well between the Uni-President Lions and Chang Tai-shan (張泰山). Chang was in top form and with a salary raise and a renewed contract, it seemed the club was going to stay the course with him. But soon the management’s intentions became clear — move him to the coaching bench. He refused and left at the end of 2015 to play in Japan.
“I figured, if that’s how they treat me as a player, how is it going to be as their coach?” Chang, 40, says.
Two decades spent smashing records in a career spanning the golden days of Taiwanese baseball, the Home-run King (全壘打王) — 289 in 20 years — is as admired for his longevity as his prodigious batting swing. But the legend has been denied a fitting send off. Sick of being lead on by clubs that sign him up with a plan to have him join the coaching bench, Chang has resolved to go out on his own terms, and head to Australia to make his last stand in the batter’s box for the Adelaide Bite. He starts with the team next month.
Photo: Fang pin-chao, Taipei Times
I’m riding shotgun in Chang’s car. It’s another wet cloudy day in Taoyuan as we make our way to his local training spot, National Taiwan Sport University.
illustration: kevin sheu
“Aging’s a double-edged sword,” he says. “My reaction speed is slowing, but then I have years and years of experience. It’s about making sure one makes up for other.”
Rain drums on the bonnet of the car.
“In the US, they won’t force you into retirement early. If you’re still going strong they’ll let you go as long as you can. It’s different here though, they don’t value senior players,” he says.
But you can’t force it. If you can’t keep up, you’ve got to stop, or else it’s disrespectful to the other players and the fans, he says.
“All I want is [that same] respect,” he adds.
It’s a shame that Chang isn’t keen to coach, because he has a natural talent for it.
We pull up outside the facility. Chang enters the weights room and the huge men pause, turn toward him and beam boyish grins — they’d probably salute him if they didn’t have 20kg weights in thier hands.
“Keep at it,” Chang says as we head to the hitting nets out back.
‘IRREPLACEABLE’
“Most players at his age are happy to retire, go off and do their own thing,” one player for the National Taiwan Sport University tells the Taipei Times.
“He’s irreplaceable,” he adds.
Chang is inspecting the swings of a group of young batters. They take it in turns to hit off from a tee before Chang gets up to show them how it’s done.
Today’s lesson is about the swivel of the hips.
“The power comes from here,” he says, patting his stomach.
Huddled around on the synthetic turf, they look up at him with a fixed gaze, hanging on every word.
I wait for the moment when Chang’s little coaching session will end and his own training will begin, but I realize after a while that it’s not coming. He doesn’t work that way.
Alternating between pitching and batting, he trains alongside the younger players all afternoon.
HOME-RUN PRINCE
The sound of child playing can be heard as we approach the front door of Chang’s home. His entrance is met again with great fanfare, the kids bounce off the sofa in excitement. A baseball whizzes by. I notice the wall nearest me is peppered with marks and patches. Chang’s son has recently started practicing his throw.
“When I told my boy I have to retire he asked me, ‘Dad, what’s retirement?’ I explained and he said, ‘But I want to see you keep playing,’” Chang says.
“I can’t let him down.”
Chang says his family couldn’t afford much meat when he was a kid, so he used to trap squirrels and sugar gliders instead.
“I got into baseball for the food,” he quips.
The pitch-side vendor used to offer them a hundred sausages per home run as good play brought more customers, Chang says.
“But my son has come to baseball from me,” he says, watching his children play.
Chang says he’ll teach him all he knows, but won’t force him to outdo his father.
“As long as he’s happy playing, that’s what matters.”
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