The reign of Ichiro Suzuki began so long ago that it's practically ancient history. Nearly 20 years ago, a wiry and short man came from Japan to Seattle with more expectations upon him than any of his countrymen had ever faced in the majors, and he exceeded them by any and every measure. When the final words are written on Ichiro, they'll note just how automatic and consistent he was—that his genius was how steady he was at the plate, practically a metronome, spitting out hit after hit after hit with a compact, inside-out swing that burned countless infielders and practically carved tunnels out of the dirt between third base and shortstop.