"Ichiro, the mortal, is an oddly fascinating character.

He's intriguing in the same way that Superman was when he decided to only be Clark Kent for a while. It seems that we purposely make the narrative of a star athlete's career mimic a superhero's: superhuman ascent, underappreciated excellence, crisis of identity, dramatic rebirth. Ichiro fits neatly into that script now, and even though this movie has been made many times, the suspense never ceases.

Because the expectation is that it will end in triumph.

But what if it doesn't?

No, no. It has to end the other way. The expected way. The right way. Ichiro, the mortal, just exists to make us appreciate the superstar when he returns. His struggles are all for plot. They have to be. Right? And everything will start changing for the better now that Ichiro has been left off the All-Star team for the first time in 11 seasons.

Right?

The alternative is too frightening to ponder.

For certain, Ichiro, the mortal, isn't as fun to watch as his other personas: the mysterious star, the dynamo of habit and the solitary baseball savant. During his time with the Mariners, we've seen those sides of him, and it didn't matter that we couldn't understand his eccentricities because his excellence overwhelmed the desire to figure him out.

As long as he collected 200 hits, posted a .330 batting average and won a Gold Glove, it was foolish to be dissatisfied with greatness. Just the same, it was impossible to appreciate him fully because he seldom reveals a human side to embrace. As a character, Ichiro had been a flat, unchanging protagonist starring for a team that made the playoffs only in his rookie season, and we've been left to interpret him, which of course leads to misinterpretations, unrealistic expectations and all-around buffoonery."