‘I can play in this league’: Munetaka Murakami came to the White Sox to prove doubters wrong

Much of Munetaka Murakami’s big-league free agency was shrouded in secrecy. Shingo Takatsu — Murakami’s longtime coach, manager and confidant since childhood — knew exactly as much as everyone else: pretty much nothing.

He knew the slugger who’d broken Japan’s single-season home run record was determined to play in the United States and was set to be paid handsomely for that privilege. Beyond that — where he’d go and how much he’d make — was one of the offseason’s most fascinating mysteries.

Then Takatsu, who had been there every step of Murakami’s youth and professional career, got a call that at least provided him with a hint.

“He reached out to me and asked me about the city of Chicago,” said Takatsu, who pitched a season and a half with the White Sox in the early 2000s. “I honestly thought it might be the Cubs.”

After all, Murakami was supposed to be the kind of player the Cubs would want. They’re a big-market club, boasting a payroll of $232 million for a slew of proven stars. They had former Nippon Professional Baseball star Seiya Suzuki, the history and tradition, and the money to make it happen.

The White Sox, whose $85 million payroll makes them one of baseball’s cheapest teams, have never paid a free agent more than $75 million. Simple logic would suggest they wouldn’t be the club Murakami was asking about.

But what Takatsu didn’t realize, and many others wouldn’t know until Murakami inked his paltry, 2-year, $34 million contract with those White Sox, was that the market for him had been nearly non-existent.

Many teams seemingly never even had his name on their board. Their models didn’t think his power-hitting prowess would translate. He’d be a three-true outcomes dud, with poor defense to boot. As a hitter, evaluators believed he’d be closer to a late-career Joey Gallo than a still-resurgent Kyle Schwarber.

In his first 40 games, Murakami has 15 home runs, one off the big-league lead. He’s posted a .920 OPS. And while his 34.9 strikeout rate is one of the highest in baseball, so too is his 17.2% walk rate. He’s essentially the best version of a player with this offensive profile.

“Obviously, there are a lot of critics that say critical comments … that are really something I ignore,” Murakami told The Athletic through his translator. “Because some people who do make critical comments, or have something to say against me, would be somebody who’s not really playing ball.

“I know who I am, and what kind of challenges I do face every single day. It’s just about proving to the doubters how much I can play in this league.”

When asked if, amid the lowball offers, he ever considered a return to Japan, Murakami was forceful in his response.

“No,” he said flatly. Going back was never an option.

From the start of his tenure as White Sox international scouting director in 2024, David Keller had designated Murakami as a player of interest. But having an interest, Keller knew, was only the first and most basic step.

“We thought that the cost to acquire was going to be significant,” Keller said. “We, realistically speaking, thought it was a long shot for us to be involved.

“I think it’s safe to say,” he added, “even though we had earmarked interest; even though he was somebody that we talked about from the very beginning … I think everyone was a little surprised that the market had fallen.”

Keller had already bought his 11-year-old son a Murakami jersey while on a scouting trip in Japan. Late one Friday night in December, as he was putting his child to bed, Keller received a text informing him that he needed to get on a Zoom call.

His son, sensing the hour, the day, and the overall strangeness of a work call at that hour, knew something was up. After some prodding, Keller confessed that it was a call with Murakami.

“He was like, ‘Daddy, get it done,’” Keller recalled of a deal that was finalized the following morning. “I had an overjoyed 11-year-old on my hands.”

Murakami was one of the most decorated power hitters in Japan’s history, blasting 265 homers over eight seasons. He was a four-time All-Star, two-time MVP, Rookie of the Year winner and a triple crown earner. He was also a critical part of the nation’s World Baseball Classic championship in 2023. All before the age of 25.

The Athletic’ s Tim Britton projected he’d earn $158.5 million over eight years. FanGraphs projected him to garner a seven-year deal worth $145 million. Nearly everyone believed his market would be fruitful and competitive.

There were two primary concerns, however, that shredded Murakami’s market. An inability to make contact on high-velocity pitches, and defense. The fear of putrid in-zone contact rates, combined with no viable position, meant offering him a large contract was a scary proposition.

The Mets, who were in the market for a first baseman, instead signed Jorge Polanco, the oft-injured middle infielder entering his age-33 season. He earned $6 million more than Murakami over the same two-year span.

The Orioles signed Pete Alonso for $155 million. He has an OPS more than 100 points lower than Murakami. The Mariners signed Josh Naylor for $92.5 million; his OPS is 200 points lower.

Even as teams have become more and more desperate for the financial boon that accompanies employing a Japanese star, many were convinced he’d never be worth the money.

“I don’t think his offense is going to be able to make up for his defensive issues,” one National League scout said during Murakami’s free agency, on the condition of anonymity in order to speak freely. “I think he’s going to run into some power. … It’s just a really tough puzzle piece to put into your major-league team.”

Part of the issue, the scout noted at the time, was that other prominent Japanese hitters haven’t seen success translate equally at the MLB level. Masataka Yoshida, a .327 hitter with .539 slugging percentage in NPB, hits just .283 with minimal power with the Red Sox. Seiya Suzuki has been a very good big-league hitter, but isn’t the superstar he was in Japan.

There remain some notable red flags in Murakami’s game. That in-zone contact rate is just 65.3%, significantly lower than the 82.6% big-league average. He whiffs nearly 44% of the time, while the average is 25%. And if he does chase, there’s almost no chance it’s hitting wood.

Murakami swings and misses more than anyone in baseball. And that may well catch up to him. But ultimately, playing in the big leagues hasn’t required major changes or adjustments. He’s simply proven that, at least so far, his game translates.

“Mune is very comfortable in his own skin,” said White Sox general manager Chris Getz. “And I did notice that right away. He’s very likable. He has a sense of humor. He’s got humility. And this inner belief that he’s got ability, and also (is) determined to prove to whomever that he can play at this level.”

Earlier this year, every spring training morning looked the same for Murakami. He’d report to the infield, ready for drills at first base.

Murakami and his two instructors, infield coach Justin Jirschele and front office executive Phil Nevin, were determined to at least make him a passable defender at first base.

And that’s exactly what he is — with 0 outs above average, he’s literally the definition of average. But what makes him one of the game’s most valuable players at the position, he knows, has nothing to do with his glove.

“We would finish every day, and we would do all our drills,” Nevin said. “We’d give a high-five, and I’d say, ‘Mune, what makes a great first baseman?’

“And he would just say, ‘40 homers.’”

In Japan, if you go to a high school, middle school or youth baseball practice, you will almost always see children practicing defense.

“Most of the time, maybe more than 70% of the time, they play defense only,” said Nobby Ito, an adviser to the commissioner of the NPB, and a prominent Japanese baseball historian. “Playing catch, hitting fungo, catching long balls and throwing, that is normal playing baseball here in this country.

“I’m kind of amazed or surprised by the recent performance of Murakami. I hope that kids currently playing in Japan find out that, ‘Oh, we should practice more hitting.’”

In Japan, Murakami has always been a star. But the pride associated with doing it at the big-league level is making him something of a national sensation.

Fans of his longtime team, the Yakult Swallows, have found kinship with White Sox fans through social media, on apps like X that offer automated translation.

Much like Chicago, which posted the worst record ever in 2024 and 102 more losses in 2025, the Swallows have been a last-place team the previous three seasons.

“Murakami being able to do this on a world stage is really elevating the feeling of Yakult fans,” Takatsu said. “I think they’re very appreciative and happy with the results that he’s bringing right now. … It’s going to lead the younger generation, and the next wave of players, to be like Mune.”

When asked if he’d be open to signing an extension with the White Sox — who are expected to transition to new ownership in the coming years — Murakami said, “If they do offer something and feel that they would want me still, I would love to have that talk.”

However unexpected it may be, it’s the White Sox that are bearing the fruit of Murakami’s presence. Thanks in part to him, they’re no longer the laughing stock of the sport. Perhaps he’s even expedited their rebuilding timeline.

For Murakami, however, this isn’t solely about the White Sox. His success transcends the uniform he wears. It’s simply the beneficiary of his talents and the recipient of his home nation’s support.

For Murakami, this isn’t about the financial security of his next contract or expediting his team’s rebuild. It’s about making sure the next player like him isn’t shrouded in the same cloud of doubt.

“When I came to the majors, my goal was to change the perspective of NPB baseball players in Japan,” Murakami said. “And I raised that level, so it could lead to a better future for NPB. That’s what I hoped I would do.

“If it has any effect toward NPB and Japan, then I’m really happy.”

With contributions from The Athletic’s Dennis Lin.

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