The Athlete Everyone Admires But Not Everybody Is Rooting For

While sitting over a cup of coffee with my friend Misako I., the conversation moved towards the Soccer World Cup, the Japanese team and then to Shohei Ohtani. Since Misako is an avid sports watcher, I said, “Shohei Ohtani is perhaps the most extraordinary player of his generation.” To which she replied, “He is, indeed. But Ichiro was the player I could really connect with.”

We were talking about two of Japan’s greatest players. I didn’t really expect to connect that conversation in any way to Japanese culture. When she told me she felt more connected to Ichiro because she had followed his hesitations, struggles and victories over the years, I thought that our conversation was about something larger than baseball.

“I don’t root so much for Ohtani because he always seems perfect. Yes, I know he is disciplined and trains hard, but he never really shows us the struggle. Ichiro was different. We could follow the difficult periods in his career. We watched him overcome obstacles and I couldn’t help but root for him.”

The Difference Between Greatness And Connection

In every society, people admire extraordinary talent. Japan is no different. But here, it seems to be much more appreciated when it is accompanied by obvious effort. The ideal is not simply to be gifted, but to have earned success through relentless work. In Japan, the word 「努力」 (doryoku, effort) is not simply a description of hard work. It is a cultural concept that permeates education, sports, business and everyday life, and although I may be mistaken, I have come to think that it also contains an implicit expectation that effort should be visible.

Misako doesn’t doubt that Shohei Ohtani works heard. She believes he does. But what she misses is being invited into that struggle. Without seeing the hardship, the success feels distant. 

Ichiro, by contrast, has always been presented as someone whose greatness was forged over time. Fans watched his development, his adjustments, the expectations placed upon him, and the pressure he carried. His success felt earned even more so because the audience had been invited into the process.

People Connect With The Journey More Than The Destination

The first book my husband bought for me after we moved to Japan, was Run, Melos! (走れメロス). If you have read the book, you might have noticed Melos is a hero with flaws, an ordinary human being who is prone to failure. When it does, his final triumph comes not from superhuman strength but from overcoming his own weakness.

Japanese storytelling, from sports, to business, to TV dramas, manga and movies,  often emphasises persevierance through adversity rather than effortless achievement. A hero is someone who fails, learns, endures, keeps improving. Misako’s preference is an example of not an absolute but nontheless broad cultural tendency: in Japan, admiration is often rooted more in the visible process of becoming exceptional than in the exceptional outcome itself. 

Success Is Only Half The Story

Whether in sports, business or everyday life, Japanese audiences  respond strongly to narratives of gradual growth. Heroes are rarely defined by effortless brilliance. Instead, they become admirable because they persist through uncertainty, criticism and repeated practice.

It is no coincidence that many successful Japanese business leaders speak openly about difficult early careers, mentors who corrected them, or failures that shaped them. Rather than  admissions of weakness these stories are demonstrations of sincerity and commitment.

The Story People Want To Follow

Struggle itself invites empathy and empathy creates emotional investment. Without seeing the difficult chapters, it becomes harder to participate emotionally in the ending.

That is why a story of perseverance usually resonates more deeply than a story of perfection.

And before anybody says, “Well, it is not a uniquely Japanese thing,” I agree with that statement. This is not uniquely Japanese. Great storytellers across cultures have long understood that audiences connect more deeply with struggle than with perfection. 

J.R.R. Tolkien knew this well. His heroes are rarely defined by extraordinary power alone; they are ordinary individuals who persevere despite fear, doubt and hardship. 

Daniel Craig, who portrayed James Bond in the most recent era of the franchise, likewise brought new depth to the character by making him more vulnerable. Bond remained highly capable, but he was no longer invincible. His physical and emotional scars made his victories feel earned rather than guaranteed.

Yet, outside Japan, it seems that leaders often feel pressure to project confidence, certainty and consistent success. They polish their achievements and minimise the setbacks. In Japan, however, carefully sharing the process of learning can make a leader more relatable rather than less credible.

The difference is not that Japan values perseverance while everyone else values perfection. Rather, Japanese culture appears to place a strong emphasis on making the journey itself visible. The effort, setbacks and gradual improvement – the  process is just as important as the outcome.

If this cultural preference influences how people choose their sporting heroes, what does it mean for companies trying to win the trust of Japanese consumers? That is what we’ll explore in Part 2.