Working his way up

Giants assistant coach Taira

Uematsu, ‘Mr. Omnipresent,’ has his sights set on advancement

BY EVAN WEBECK

SCOTTSDALE, ARIZONA — Taira

Uematsu’s day begins, like it always does, before dawn.

It’s 6 o’clock now, as he slides into the corner table under his name at a sushi hotspot here — he ran into Ichiro’s translator at the same spot last week — 12 hours since he arrived at the ballpark, first in the building, as usual.

The Giants coach puts in his order and begins to play with his chopsticks. His hands tell a story. His left thumb is permanently altered from a Hunter Strickland fastball, and the index finger next to it turns blue while he sleeps. Proof of the physical toll of more than a decade of grunt work, of never saying no, of being “Mr. Omnipresent.”

Uematsu, 39, is one of a handful of Giants left with three World Series rings. Uematsu predates every current player and just about everyone else. He joined the organization in 2006 and has been a constant presence at the waterfront ballpark since 2008. A bullpen catcher, batting practice pitcher, intel gatherer, trainer, translator — you name it, Uematsu has done it. But he won’t be anonymous for long.

“One of my goals,” he says, taking a bite from his chirashi bowl,

“I want to be a base coach.”

Why stop there?

“The people that I’m seeing as managerial candidates on our staff at some point, I look at Taira in that regard,” manager Gabe Kapler says. “The way he demonstrates his willingness to do anything is what makes him special. But then also what’s impressive is that he speaks up.

His nickname — Mr. Omnipresent — was coined by former Giants manager Bruce Bochy, who first brought Uematsu on board. His biggest opportunities, though, have come under Kapler.

“Kap likes collaborating,” Uematsu says. “If you like something, and he feels like you’re good at it, you can get involved. You have to be good at it. I thought that was a big opportunity.

“I wanted to be a coach, but I didn’t think it was a possibility. I didn’t even think about it for a while. But as soon as Kap took over, the way I could think about myself in the future and baseball itself was totally different.”

Uematsu will tell you: He was not the best baseball player. His father played collegiate ball in

Japan, and Taira once dreamed of following the same path. But by the time he reached high school, what was once a passion had come to haunt him. A voracious eater, Uematsu couldn’t shed his scrawny frame no matter how hard he tried. He was bullied by his classmates. After graduation, he took the advice of his mother: to put baseball behind him and look for better opportunities in the U.S.

Taira Uematsu, MLB’s first Japanese-born coach, highfives Giants supporters at FanFest at Oracle Park. Uematsu has been with the Giants since 2006.

At 17 years old, far from proficient in English, Uematsu moved stateside. The son of one of his dad’s clients was a minor-league trainer with the Chicago White Sox who had graduated from Southern Illinois Carbondale’s kinesiology program. Maybe, Taira thought, there was a path in baseball, after all.

At least twice a semester, Uematsu would wrangle together a group of friends, hop in the car and drive two hours to old Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Roaming the Cardinals’ outfield at the time: So Taguchi, the third position player to ever go from Japan’s highest level, Nippon Professional Baseball, to the major leagues.

“When I came to the big leagues, my first day, I found the jersey in my locker, and I was so happy,” Uematsu said. “The number was 99.”

Taguchi’s number.

After serving as the bullpen catcher for the Fresno Grizzlies, then the Giants’ Triple-A affiliate, there was a need in San Francisco: Newly signed Japanese pitcher Keiichi Yabu required a translator.

Yabu lasted only one season in San Francisco. Uematsu, though, is still here.

MBA. Alyssa Nakken became the first uniformed female coach in major-league history.

When Hallberg was promoted, it created an opening on the support staff. He told Kapler that Uematsu would be a great fit, but Kapler already knew. Uematsu had told him himself.

This season, his second as an assistant coach, Uematsu is taking on more responsibility, helping the Giants improve their base running and take advantage of the new rules in place that should encourage more stolen base attempts. The art of base-running is a particular passion for Uematsu.

“I didn’t think I was a good hitter, and I wasn’t fast, either, but base-running is something you can be better at,” Uematsu says. “Sometimes, actually a lot of the time, base-running dictates the result of the game.”

Uematsu sips from the miso soup next to his bowl of raw fish and rice. It’s good, but it doesn’t quite hit in the same way as his mom’s.

For the first time in three years, Uematsu was able to travel back to his hometown, Tateyama City, just outside of Tokyo. His daughter, Hannah, couldn’t walk the last time her grandparents saw her. There’s a new addition, too: Sho, Uetmatsu’s son, who was born this offseason.

For a man who is described as indispensable by practically anyone you ask, Uematsu is curiously insecure about his employment status. When Kapler took over in 2019, he wondered if there would be a spot for him. Those worries were soothed as Uematsu watched Kapler round out his staff. His bench coach, Kai Correa, never reached the pros. Mark Hallberg, who would become third-base coach in 2022, was raised in Saudi Arabia and possessed an

Back in Japan, Uematsu is a regular talk-show guest. He’s asked about his journey, how it could be a model for other kids to follow. If and when he achieves his goal and becomes a base-coach, he’ll be the first Japanese-born on-field coach in major-league history.

Uematsu understands the significance, but it doesn’t concern him.

“I think I’m always going to feel the same way, even if I became the prime minister of Japan,” he says.

Uematsu laughs. He’s joking. He takes another bite. He is hungry for more.