This feature has been updated upon Andy Murray’s confirmation that the Paris Olympics will be his final tennis tournament.

Andy Murray made you care.

That was his superpower. There were better players in his era; there were more stylish ones. But none possessed the ability to make you invest emotionally in their matches as much as Murray did.

As someone British, and the same age as Murray, I probably would have felt a degree of kinship however he’d played. But it went a lot deeper than that.

When he arrived on the scene as a scruffy 18-year-old in 2005, Murray seemed to experience tennis as I’d always experienced it: as an unbelievably frustrating sport that seemed almost designed to wind you up. Murray would moan and berate himself and do all the things that felt to me entirely natural. Why wouldn’t you scream in anguish after missing a shot you knew you should have made? That wasn’t odd. Even saying “Take your time, you d**k” after missing a serve, as Murray once did, wasn’t that odd to me. It was everyone else who was odd, somehow pretending that they were OK when they messed up.

Defending Murray against accusations of dourness, rudeness, and surliness that arose from his on-court demeanour became a bit of a passion of mine around this time. The fact a lot of people didn’t get him only made me get him even more and when those anti-Murray views became more entrenched after he joked that he would be supporting “anyone but England” at the 2006 World Cup, so did my defence of him.

For me, very much a committed England supporter, comments like this just showed off his dry sense of humour and his ability not to take the media circus too seriously. On the court, his complete determination, raw emotions and supreme athleticism added to his appeal — even if the habit that he could never kick of berating his team was a bit much. Murray was not perfect, but that was kind of the point — throughout it all, he was a potent combination of the superhuman and the relatable.

When we thought Murray was about to retire in 2019, friends reminded me of my habit from the mid-to-late 2000s: spending student nights out earnestly trying to explain to unsuspecting revellers why Andy Murray was misunderstood. In the same period, I remember making this point to a woman in Bedford who was trotting out the usual lines about how rude and boring he was. Eventually I relented, but in my mind, she had shown her true colours: how one felt towards Murray was a genuine bellwether for me about what they were really like. If you were unable to look beyond the lazy tropes about him, then that was you pretty much written off.

Murray beamed around the world during Wimbledon 2009 (Paul Gilham/Getty Images)

On the flipside, bonds were strengthened with those people who could see how great and thoughtful Murray really was. “If you don’t like Andy Murray then we can’t be friends” became a good mantra to live by.

Clearly, this was all unhinged. But that’s the thing: Andy Murray made you care.

GO DEEPER

Fifty Shades of Andy Murray

Now, England have reached another final and fallen at the last, and Murray has said farewell to Wimbledon after withdrawing from the singles tournament and making one last appearance with his brother Jamie in the doubles. He’ll play his final tennis tournament at the Paris Olympic Games, and I’ll no longer feel that I have to convince all and sundry of how special he is.

On those student nights and in my early days as a real adult at the end of the 2000s, it was apparent that Murray, a phenomenally talented player in his own right, had been dealt a hand of almost unprecedented difficulty. He was competing with two of the best players of all time in Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal; with Novak Djokovic, who was emerging and about to go supersonic; and with the weight of British tennis history growing heavier and heavier as his talent sharpened and the margins got finer. Murray was not a demigod like the elegant Federer or the muscular Nadal, but rather a man, growing into his ill-fitting clothes and trying to compete with them. Murray played the role of the outsider giving absolutely everything to stay on their otherworldly level perfectly.

At times he resembled Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in The Revenant, snarling and battling in the wilderness to stay alive, only for another terrifying beast to jump out at him moments later. And we were right there, living it with him. I remember watching his miraculous recovery against Richard Gasquet at Wimbledon in 2008 from the corporate marquee at the tournament where I was supposed to be working. Seven months later I stayed up until around 4am to see him lose to Fernando Verdasco in five sets at the Australian Open, in one of those infuriatingly tetchy and drawn-out defeats he would sometimes suffer at that time.

Andy Murray after his 2010 Australian Open defeat to Roger Federer (Jon Buckle/PA Images via Getty Images)

As he grew as a player, he was belatedly winning the hearts and minds that I couldn’t in those university nightclubs. Before he was crying on Centre Court at Wimbledon — as he delivered the “I’m getting closer” line that would become prophetic after losing the 2012 final to Roger Federer — he was crying in the Rod Laver Arena in Australia after losing to the same opponent in that final in 2010. “I had great support back home in the last couple of weeks, sorry I couldn’t do it for you tonight,” Murray said.

“I can cry like Roger, it’s just a shame I can’t play like him.”

It was winning the 2012 Olympic gold medal — avenging his Wimbledon defeat to Federer on the same court — that secured him a place in most peoples’ hearts. He could soon and suddenly do little wrong, winning his first major at the US Open a month after the Olympic triumph, then ending Britain’s 77-year wait for a Wimbledon men’s champion the following summer, putting everybody watching through an excruciating final game. Speaking in Andy Murray: Will to Win, a new BBC documentary, he explains how much Wimbledon meant to him, but also to everybody watching him.

“After I won it was just relief,” he says. “It was my most important match, as I believe if I was sitting here today having not won Wimbledon, then everything else I achieved in my career wouldn’t matter.”

Another Wimbledon title and another Olympic gold, plus the Davis Cup and the world No 1 ranking, followed in the next few years. He was Team GB’s flag bearer at the 2016 Rio Olympics and between 2013 and 2016, Murray won three out of four BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards — voted for by the public and a sign of the complete transformation of perceptions about his, well, personality.

The Scot claimed his second gold by beating Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina in four sets (Julian Finney/Getty Images)

Murray had well and truly gone mainstream.

Sometimes doing that can bring out the worst in people, but Murray used his greater profile to talk about issues that mattered to him. Like gender equality, about which he has spoken frequently — including when he took the then and still unconventional step of appointing a female coach in Amelie Mauresmo, before defending her from the misogynistic criticism that followed.

He was also a great support to his compatriots, practising with them, offering advice, watching their matches even if it was late and cold and he was playing the following day. A couple of weeks ago, a day after suffering a bad injury at Queen’s, he was courtside watching the Scottish 17-year-old Charlie Robertson playing pre-Wimbledon qualifiers. In 2016, a few days after winning his second Wimbledon title, Murray flew to Belgrade to join up with the British Davis Cup team for their tie against Serbia. He was in no state to play, but there he was, cheering on his mates and acting as ball-boy in training.

On a personal level, I was now covering tennis professionally, getting to see Murray up close after following him from a distance. Never meet your heroes? Not so much. Murray was generally extremely impressive with the media and I was sat a few seats away when he reminded a journalist that only no American “male player” had reached a Grand Slam semi-final since 2009. Murray called out others, like commentator John Inverdale at the Rio Olympics, for similar slip-ups around the Williams sisters, eventually playing with Serena herself in the Wimbledon mixed doubles in 2019.

That “male player” line came after Sam Querrey beat Murray in the 2017 Wimbledon quarter-finals and the defeat represented the end of one chapter and the beginning of another for the Scot. Murray was the world No 1 at the time and a shoo-in for the closing stages of Grand Slams, but his hip was damaged beyond repair and Murray would never be the same again.

The next time he played was 11 months later, ranked No 156, post-first hip operation and with his movement hugely hampered. He tried and failed to get fit for Wimbledon and six months later was so broken at the 2019 Australian Open that he revealed that the end could be nigh. The event even put on a retirement celebration for him. Murray wasn’t quite done though and after a hip resurfacing operation, he came back and somehow won an ATP title nine months later in Antwerp.

Don’t think it can be overstated what a physical and mental beast Andy Murray is. Just nine months ago, he was done, finished, thanks for the memories. He was given a retirement video for crying out loud! Now he’s in an ATP final. The guy is a complete one-off.

— Charlie Eccleshare (@CDEccleshare) October 19, 2019

Since then there’s been a lot of struggle and it’s sobering to think of how long Murray has been so physically disadvantaged. It’s seven years since the first hip injury in 2017, barely shorter than the eight-year period when he was reaching major finals. For people of a decent age, the only Murray they’ll really remember is the one of the last few years, raging against the dying of the light and unable to have another deep run at a Grand Slam tournament — the third round is his best progress since 2017.

Winning that title in Antwerp with a hip replacement still has to rank as one of the outstanding achievements of his career and last summer he then climbed to a highest-ever post-operation ranking of No 36, which is a remarkable achievement considering the depth of talent and athleticism on the tour.

He still managed to produce one last mind-bending win at a Grand Slam — the epic, near six-hour, five-set comeback against Thanasi Kokkinakis at last year’s Australian Open, which finished after 4am local time and exemplified everything that made Murray who he was on a court. He had what felt like a magnetic attraction to drama; only two days earlier, he had been involved in another marathon win, this time over Matteo Berrettini, saving a match point in a contest that lasted more than four and a half hours.

Murray, fittingly, marked the Kokkinakis win with both a point of truly impossible defence and a soundbite for the ages: “It’s so disrespectful that the tournament has us out here until three, f****** four in the morning and we’re not allowed to take a piss.”

“The GOAT when it comes to pure WTFery” I called Murray at this time, and at this point covering football, not tennis, my phone lit up with messages from fellow Murray acolytes during the Kokkinakis match saying, “Are you watching this?”

Many others would have been sending and receiving similar messages because this was what Murray did. He brought people together, united by a feeling of being part of a club that had always loved and understood him when others didn’t. Of messaging one another in the early hours when he was playing in Australia or the U.S. and asking: “You still watching?”

Of course we were. Just as whatever their job, so many would have been sneakily watching him playing Jordan Thompson at Queen’s hoping for some late-career fireworks. They didn’t arrive. Instead, there was more injury pain, a neural issue in his back that hampered him even walking up the stairs to the court and disappointment his many fans felt acutely as he tried once again to battle through the pain. He couldn’t recover from the subsequent surgery in time for this year’s Wimbledon.

It’s hard to imagine the sport without Murray, whose career lasted just over half my life. Players come and go all the time, but in individual sports, unlike team ones, you don’t make a decision in childhood about who you root for and then stick with it for life. You don’t know who you will have an affinity with until you watch them and often the ones you have that connection to surprise you. It’s a deeply personal thing and that’s what makes it special and powerful. People whose views you normally agree with can feel the exact opposite to you about a certain player because the chemistry is different.

The knowledge he had finally done it, after winning his first Wimbledon in 2013 (Bill Murray/SNS Group via Getty Images)

And so you find yourself arguing with them about those players in the early hours of the morning while others look at you and think, “What are you doing with your life?”

But that’s the thing: Andy Murray makes you care.

(Top photos: Clive Brunskill, Rob Carr, Shaun Botterill / Getty Images; Design: Dan Goldfarb for The Athletic)

Manchester United’s £52million signing of Leny Yoro was a deal to make European football sit up and take note last week.

Most observers had expected Lille’s teenage defender to end up at Real Madrid, but along came United, offering greater returns and long-term challenges, to win the race for his signature.

It is the biggest transfer of the Premier League’s summer and a sizeable show of faith in one so young. The market in which United chose to invest such a significant sum, however, should not come as a surprise.

Ligue 1, the French top division where Yoro shot to prominence last season, is where the Premier League’s 20 clubs have collectively spent more than any other overseas league in the past decade.

The outlay stood at £1.81billion ($2.34bn) in the previous 10 years ahead of this summer and, in all probability, will soar past the £2bn mark in the next six weeks. The weight of numbers making the move to the Premier League from French clubs — 145 players and counting — is also unsurpassed.

No other European league has received more of the Premier League’s riches through transfer fees than France’s top division since 2014, although Spain’s La Liga and Germany’s Bundesliga are not far behind.

La Liga used to be where Premier League clubs spent most of their money. In the 10 years between 2004-05 and 2013-14, it was Spain’s top division that comfortably drew in most transfer income from the Premier League, with 27 per cent more spent there than in France.

The following decade still saw another £1.76bn spent on La Liga players, but others, most strikingly Germany, have caught up. Bundesliga clubs sold players for a sum totalling £1.72billion between 2014-15 and 2023-24 and last summer was the highest outlay on record.

In a transfer window that saw RB Leipzig sell Josko Gvardiol to Manchester City, Christopher Nkunku to Chelsea and Dominik Szoboszlai to Liverpool, the Premier League collectively spent £378million on Bundesliga players. The running total since 2018, in fact, stands at £1.26billion, marginally ahead of Ligue 1 over that shorter period of assessment.

Serie A was another market to catch Premier League eyes last summer, collecting over £300million in transfer fees, but of the big five European leagues, it remains the least favoured, with a 10-year return of £1.48bn.

For all that, France still stands apart in the overall spending table, having been the most popular place to shop in four of the last nine seasons. And the early moves of this summer, most notably Yoro, would indicate it is anything but a passing fad.

For all it is considered to lag behind rival leagues such as La Liga, Bundesliga and Serie A, trailing in UEFA’s national coefficient rankings, Ligue 1 continues to act as Europe’s chief talent factory. In 19 of the past 20 years, according to the respected website Transfermarkt, there have been at least 10 players bought from Ligue 1 clubs. In 2022-23, that total was 22, with Premier League clubs spending more (£312million) on Ligue 1 players than Ligue 1 clubs did (£153m).

There have been some costly mistakes, such as Arsenal’s £72m deal to sign Nicolas Pepe — also from Lille — in 2019, but in recent seasons there has been a spate of success stories, with Gabriel (Arsenal), Bruno Guimaraes (Newcastle United), William Saliba (signed by Arsenal from St Etienne in 2018 but who spent the next three seasons on loan at Ligue 1 clubs) and former Lille player Amadou Onana, who swapped Everton for Aston Villa in a £50million move yesterday, all thriving.

The Athletic spoke to a number of figures working in football to gauge why Ligue 1 had become the shopping market of choice for English clubs. Those who responded asked to do so anonymously, either because they did not have permission to talk or because of commercial sensitivity, but their answers were revealing.

One senior Premier League figure pointed towards the physicality and athleticism of Ligue 1 and the potential for signings to be developed at pace under better coaching in England. A senior agent, meanwhile, cited the value for money that Ligue 1 has traditionally offered when measured up against data output. Players there tend to tick all sorts of boxes when impressing at a level that demands technical proficiency.

It is hard to pinpoint a precise moment when French football began to command so much attention from Premier League clubs.

Perhaps it was the impact of Eric Cantona, Manchester United’s swashbuckling No 7 from the 1990s, or David Ginola, the dazzling winger with Newcastle United and Tottenham Hotspur, but more likely it was the deeper marks left on Arsenal by their French connection under Arsene Wenger.

As well as Nicolas Anelka, Emmanuel Petit and Robert Pires, there was Sylvain Wiltord and — via brief spells in Serie A — Thierry Henry and Patrick Vieira. Wenger found technically astute, physically strong players for prices far lower than their equivalents in English football. A total of 28 French players signed for Arsenal during Wenger’s 22 years in charge of Arsenal.

Others soon followed where he had led. Signing players from Ligue 1 — French or otherwise — made sense. Newcastle United signed five players from French clubs in 2012-13 alone, a season notable for becoming the first where Premier League clubs spent in excess of £100million on imports from a single league. It was the year Chelsea signed Eden Hazard from Lille, Olivier Giroud left Montpellier to join Arsenal, and Spurs landed Hugo Lloris from Lyon — three big deals but each strengthening the perceived pedigree of Ligue 1 targets.

Eden Hazard was a gamechanger when he signed for Chelsea (William West/AFP via Getty Images)

French football typically fields younger players, too, offering that potential and promise to suitors from overseas. UEFA’s annual report, The European Club Footballing Landscape, found that 39 per cent of all total domestic minutes played came from players aged 23 or under in France during the 2021-22 season. That made it the youngest profile of the big European leagues, way below the 26 per cent of the Premier League minutes played by under-24s and 20 per cent of La Liga, where spending from English clubs has tailed off in recent years.

Only the Netherlands’ Eredivisie, another league targeted heavily by English clubs in recent seasons, had a comfortably younger demographic than Ligue 1, with 47 per cent of minutes being played by under-24s. At the end of that assessment period covered in UEFA’s report, in fact, Premier League clubs spent £240m on players from the Dutch top flight in 2022-23, including Antony, Lisandro Martinez, Cody Gakpo and Noni Madueke.

The Premier League’s financial might grows harder for European rivals to fight against and it is Ligue 1, with its modern challenges over TV rights, that has become more vulnerable. A newly-struck domestic deal with DAZN and beIN Sports is said to be worth just £420million per season, a figure dwarfed by the Premier League’s total TV packages worth over £3bn annually. The rights for Ligue 1 since their peak in the 2016-20 cycle have actually declined in value.

Spanish, German and Italian clubs feel the same pressures, but nothing like those in France. Selling players has become a fundamental part of the business model and few do it better than Lille, who sold Yoro to Manchester United last week. The last five years have seen Lille, who finished fourth in Ligue 1 last season, sell £250million of players to Premier League clubs, including Sven Botman, Carlos Baleba, Onana, Gabriel and Pepe.

Lille sold Nicolas Pepe to Arsenal for £72m (Jeff Pachoud/AFP via Getty Images)

Lyon, another of French football’s bigger names, have been equally as adept. Their returns have also topped £200m since 2019, with the likes of Lucas Paqueta (to West Ham), Guimaraes (Newcastle) and Tanguy Ndombele (Tottenham) sold on for huge profits.

Ligue 1 still managed to post a net transfer spend of just under £30m in last summer’s transfer window, a feat beyond Serie A and La Liga, but that owed plenty to the lavish spending of Paris Saint-Germain, forever insulated by the backing of their Qatar Sports Investment ownership group.

PSG continue to be the only French club to make the top 10 of Deloitte’s Football Money League, a list of European clubs generating the greatest revenues. Marseille came 20th in the 2024 list, with Lyon 29th, but the rest of Ligue 1, especially those not benefiting from the extra revenue provided by European football, can see incomes transformed by a single sale. It is harder to say no to English overtures.

French football, as a result, has been at the heart of multi-club development plans. Chelsea’s owners BlueCo bought Strasbourg last year and Liverpool owners FSG were also in recent discussions to buy Bordeaux, a historically big club currently languishing in the second tier, before talks collapsed last week. The same reasons for targeting French players in the transfer market underpin the motivation for taking ownership of its clubs.

Little wonder, when so many have made the switch from Ligue 1 to Premier League. A total of 260 players were signed from the French top division between 2004 and 2024, a figure higher than Spain (245), Italy (192) and Germany (171).

The average cost of a signing from Ligue 1 in that time? Just under £9m.

The Premier League’s focus is broadening, with Germany’s Bundesliga gaining increased interest in the Covid-19 years, but Ligue 1 remains the most fertile ground to find a new recruit. Yoro is timely proof of that.

(Top photos: Leny Yoro, Gabriel and William Saliba; all Getty Images)

Someone always wanted something from Shohei Ohtani. An autographed baseball. A special meeting on the field. But often during his time with the Angels, Ohtani could not be bothered. His regimen as a two-way player left him with limited time. His preference was to focus only on baseball.

Virtually every request needed to go through Ohtani’s agent, Nez Balelo of CAA. Many of them were denied. But was it Ohtani actually balking? Was his interpreter, Ippei Mizuhara, interceding? Or was it Balelo making the call? The three formed such a united front, such a protective cocoon, the Angels could not always tell.

One Angels official likened Team Ohtani to “a well-oiled machine,” efficient and impenetrable.

Or so people thought.

The insular relationship among Ohtani, Mizuhara and Balelo, marked by immense trust despite a language barrier that hindered their communication, created the landscape for the unthinkable — Mizuhara’s theft of almost $17 million from Ohtani to cover gambling debts, and his plea of guilty last month to charges of bank and tax fraud. The two counts carry a maximum sentence of 33 years.

Could Mizuhara have pulled off such a theft without Ohtani and Balelo knowing? The only way it was even plausible was because of the unusual dynamic among the three, as detailed by more than 25 past and present Angels employees, Dodgers officials and others familiar with the evolution of their relationship. Many of those who spoke to The Athletic were granted anonymity so that they could speak candidly. Ohtani, Balelo and Mizuhara declined to answer questions for this story.

As one Angels employee put it, Ohtani’s whole world was baseball, and Balelo’s whole world was Ohtani. Mizuhara, the only one of the three fluent in both English and Japanese, filled the communication gap and assumed greater responsibility than a typical interpreter. Mizuhara, according to those interviewed, fit a variety of descriptions: Buffer. Blocker. Human wall. The U.S. government, in its 37-page complaint against Mizuhara, referred to him as a de facto manager and assistant, employed by Ohtani.

Ohtani, consumed with his unprecedented effort to succeed as both a hitter and pitcher, placed inordinate faith in Mizuhara to handle his day-to-day affairs. And Balelo, perhaps out of fear of losing Ohtani as a client with a record payday looming, failed to make an issue of the bank account Mizuhara said Ohtani wanted kept private — the account the interpreter plundered.

Ohtani, viewed solely as a victim by the government, weathered the storm as if it was a passing shower. Though he is unable to pitch this season while recovering from major elbow surgery, he is a candidate for his third MVP award because of his continuing prowess as a hitter. Going into Monday, he leads the National League in Wins Above Replacement (5.4), slugging percentage (.638), OPS (1.039) and home runs (30), and ranks in the top three in hits, batting average and on-base percentage.

Off the field, Ohtani is also thriving. In March, shortly before news broke of Mizuhara’s misdeeds, Sportico estimated Ohtani would earn $65 million in endorsements in 2024. Ohtani since has emerged in an even stronger position, nearing $100 million annually in endorsements with the potential to exceed that figure, according to an industry source briefed on his earnings.

With Mizuhara out of the picture, Ohtani also has become more assertive. Before a recent game, Ohtani told teammate Freddie Freeman, “I’m going to be on first when you hit a double today.” Freeman and other teammates have taken note of Ohtani’s comfort with baseball talk in English. During the 5 1/2 weeks when Mizuhara was with the Dodgers, such interactions did not take place, Freeman said. Mizuhara initiated conversations with players, not Ohtani.

“He has blossomed,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said of Ohtani. “He’s become way more independent, way more open, which is ironic given that the person he trusted most deceived him. We’ve seen his true personality come out. I think with that, he’s happier than he’s ever been.”

Joe Maddon, the Angels’ manager from 2020 to June 2022, worried about Ohtani.

“I just didn’t think he had any kind of social life. That was the part that really stood out to me,” Maddon said. “My impression was that he would go back to that apartment in the parking lot of the ballpark. On the road, it was pretty much the same, (hotel) room and back. Was he that married to baseball?”

The answer, those in Ohtani’s orbit say, was yes. Experts say such single-mindedness is not uncommon among Japanese athletes. But while many players who moved from Japan to the majors showed intense focus, Ohtani’s single-mindedness as both a pitcher and hitter is a level above.

“I’ll start with the caveat that you can’t essentialize any culture of any nation,” said Kiyoteru Tsutsui, professor of sociology and director of the Japan program at Stanford University’s Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center. “But to the extent we can talk about ‘Japanese culture, Japanese ethos,’ that is one key component.”

The narrowing of focus starts at a young age, Tsutsui said. Most Japanese schoolchildren play only one sport. Some traditionalists even opposed Ohtani’s initial pursuit of a two-way career, perceiving it as disrespectful to the craft of baseball, in which a player generally tries to succeed either as a pitcher or hitter, but not both.

As Ohtani pressed forward, cultural mores dictated that mere proficiency in those endeavors would not be enough.

“You have to be the best where you are. That has been a tradition in Japan,” Tsutsui said. “Things are slowly changing. But it’s still a very powerful influence on a lot of people’s mindsets. So when people see Shohei crafting his skill in baseball, that kind of focus is highly valued and appreciated. And people really respect him for that.”

How could Ohtani fail to notice millions disappearing from one of his bank accounts? Some who witnessed Ohtani’s devotion to becoming, as former Angels manager Phil Nevin put it, “the greatest player in the world,” were unsurprised by his seeming obliviousness.

One former Angels employee described Ohtani’s work-life balance as “99 to 1” in favor of work. He was so regimented in his daily preparation as a pitcher and hitter, the employee said, “it was not in his mind space to enjoy the moment.” Ohtani would take an iPad home to watch the next day’s starting pitcher. He even monitored his sleep — Sports Illustrated reported Ohtani strives for 10 hours a night, plus a two-hour nap before a game — through a wearable device.

The employee recalled Ohtani setting specific statistical goals. His pursuit of a record free-agent contract reflected, as much as anything, his desire to establish another standard. Ohtani accomplished that by securing the biggest deal by total value in sports history. Yet he deferred $680 million of the $700 million knowing that, by going to the Dodgers, his endorsements only would increase.

Those who know Ohtani say he considers the financial numbers almost incidental, and shows virtually no interest in money. Deals with New Balance and Hugo Boss provide him with most of his clothing. Ohtani secured a prime piece of real estate in Hawaii in exchange for being named as the first resident of a new luxury community. “It is unclear how much, if anything, Ohtani paid for his land,” the Wall Street Journal said. He recently purchased a $7.85 million home in the L.A. area as well. The buyer on the deed is listed as “Decopin LLC.” Decopin is the name of Ohtani’s dog.

With the Angels, Ohtani never even participated in common clubhouse rituals such as NCAA tournament and Master’s pools. The notion that Ohtani would even be interested in international soccer, one of the sports Mizuhara bet on, is outlandish, some team sources said. One guessed Ohtani could not even identify Patrick Mahomes, the NFL’s biggest star. “All he cared about was playing his video game on his phone,” an Angels person said. “And then it was baseball.”

Perhaps Ohtani, 30, will broaden his horizons now that he is settled with the Dodgers and married to Mamiko Tanaka, a former basketball player; Angels people were shocked to see video of him attending the Dodgers’ annual chicken-wing eating contest in spring training. Or perhaps little will change.

Japanese psychoanalyst Takeo Doi, in his 1971 book, “The Anatomy of Dependence,” introduced the concept of amae, describing it as a desire among some in Japan for one person to be taken care of by another, almost in the way a parent takes care of a child. Tsutsui said the term loosely translated to “indulgence.”

“The boundary between children and adults is much blurrier in Japan,” Tsutsui said. “People want to go back to being kids again. Shohei is perceived to be, in areas other than baseball, this man-child. He’s a grownup, but he’s still playing baseball like he’s a kid, chasing baseballs after dark. And that also is an endearing image for a lot of the Japanese public.”

Ohtani and Mizuhara first met in 2013, when both joined the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters, Ohtani as an 18-year-old rookie, Mizuhara as an interpreter for the team’s English-speaking players. When Ohtani made it known he would play in the majors starting in 2018, Mizuhara contacted him and asked to be his interpreter, according to the government complaint.

Both Ohtani and Balelo highly recommended Mizuhara, a former Angels employee said. The Angels, who hired Mizuhara to interpret for one player, not serve in a broad position of responsibility, conducted a perfunctory background check. After the gambling scandal broke, key points in Mizuhara’s publicly available biography were revealed to be either exaggerated or inaccurate.

Ohtani, during his time with the Angels, rarely was seen without Mizuhara. They would arrive at the park together, eat together, appear in the batting cage together, leave together.

“I saw two guys who were the best of friends,” Nevin said.

Mizuhara attended to every detail for Ohtani, down to making sure he had the right food. In the rare times they were apart, Mizuhara might be talking on the phone. Or smoking a cigarette. But while some with the Angels knew he bet, they didn’t see him checking his phone constantly, the way a compulsive gambler might be expected to. When Mizuhara spoke on the phone, he appeared to be conducting business for Ohtani.

“He always seemed to be handling stuff you feel like your agent would kind of handle,” one former Angels player said. “It felt like he was a quasi-agent.”

The government complaint stated that CAA, described as “Agent 1’s agency,” did not employ any individuals who spoke Japanese. The complaint also stated, “Agent 1 did not speak directly to Victim A (Ohtani) or regularly exchange text messages with Victim A. Instead, Agent 1 relayed messages to Victim A through Mizuhara.”

Such was the three-way trust.

“As much as Ohtani trusted Ippei, I can promise you Nez trusted him exactly as much,” a Dodgers official said. “I don’t know any other circumstance that is like this, where this is one guy in the middle. He controlled the dialogue in both directions.”

Ohtani’s knowledge of English, Dodgers people say, is improving, but remains limited mostly to baseball talk. Some Angels officials said they spoke to Ohtani directly, but also only in baseball terms. If Ohtani wanted to do early work, Mizuhara would text an Angels coach to arrange a time. One coach said he did not even have Ohtani’s number. Communicating with Mizuhara was easier and more effective.

Maddon said he enjoyed a “great relationship” with the interpreter. Nevin said he considered Mizuhara a friend. Some with the team, however, thought Mizuhara overly protective of Ohtani and wondered whether the information he relayed to and from the player was always accurate. Others thought Mizuhara at times seemed more loyal to Balelo than the organization that employed him. But those concerns, at the time, seemed minor.

One Angels person recalls Mizuhara saying he bet $10,000 on the Minnesota Vikings, but the revelation didn’t strike him as particularly odd. Betting conversations in major-league clubhouses are hardly uncommon. And if Mizuhara fretted over his gambling losses, he didn’t outwardly show it. On team flights, he usually was fast asleep. “Best sleeper we’ve ever had,” the Angels person said.

Over time, as Ohtani’s stardom grew, Mizuhara’s ability to communicate in both English and Japanese made him not only an invaluable resource, but also increased his power and control.

Balelo, according to the government complaint, was not the only member of Ohtani’s camp to ask Mizuhara about the bank account that belonged to the player, but which the interpreter used for his own gambling money. A bookkeeper employed by Balelo expressed concern about a potential tax liability for Ohtani. A financial advisor sought information for Ohtani’s investment profile. An accountant wanted to make sure he filed the proper tax returns. Mizuhara, the government said, told them all the same thing: Ohtani wanted the account to remain private.

And everyone knew: Ohtani was not to be disturbed.

Ippei Mizuhara (left), Shohei Ohtani and Nez Balelo (right) attended a Los Angeles Rams game together in December. (Sean M. Haffey / Getty Images)

Balelo’s desire for control is well-known throughout baseball. It was never more evident than during Ohtani’s free agent process, which was shrouded in secrecy. And it recently surfaced again when Balelo informed the Dodgers that Ohtani no longer will be available for pre-game access to the media.

In Mizuhara’s absence, Balelo has stepped into the void, taking on even greater responsibility. When necessary, he uses the Dodgers’ new interpreter for Ohtani, Will Ireton, to communicate with his client.

In seeking to shield Ohtani, Balelo is willing to push limits. As an executive told The Athletic last offseason, “Some would say Nez overdoes it with his clients. He’s involved in everything.”

By 2017, when Ohtani decided to leave Japan for the majors,  most of Balelo’s top clients — Andre Ethier, Ryan Braun, Adam Jones — were winding down their careers. Once Ohtani signed with the Angels, Balelo, 61, was uniquely positioned to give him inordinate attention. And it quickly became clear that representing Ohtani would be a full-time job.

During Ohtani’s recruitment, U.S.-based agencies met with his parents, his high school coach and an attorney. His parents are listed as employees of a management company Ohtani formed at the start of his career, but their involvement is said to be limited. Some requests for him from the Japanese media go through that company, but Balelo generally has the final word.

A friend of Balelo’s described him as a “true believer” in his players. Balelo took the same approach with Ohtani he did with previous high-profile clients, diving into the weeds, trying to cover every detail. The approach backfired with Braun, who in 2013 tested positive a second time for using performance-enhancing drugs. Braun, after earlier denials, admitted to his use of PEDs, saying, “I realize now I have made some mistakes.” Two years earlier, he and Balelo persuaded an arbiter to overturn his first positive test, claiming his positive urine sample had been mishandled and attempting to discredit the Wisconsin man who collected it.

Some familiar with Balelo’s all-in style find it curious the government said he did not communicate directly with Ohtani, going through Mizuhara instead. Was Balelo, in his eagerness to serve his client, simply too trusting? Was he concerned that pushing Mizuhara on the Ohtani bank account in question would damage his relationship with his star player?

Balelo’s dealings with Braun were a blow to the agent’s reputation. But the agent seems to have escaped this spring’s tumultuous events relatively unscathed.

Viewed by the usual measures, Balelo’s micromanaging of Ohtani has been an unqualified success. Ohtani is the most prosperous player in the sport, on and off the field. And Mizuhara’s gambling, while initially perceived as a major threat to Ohtani’s standing, barely dented the global superstar. The government’s message was that Mizuhara deceived those who trusted him most.

A less insular relationship among the three might have resulted in a different sequence of events. But Ohtani achieved global stardom while he, Mizuhara and Balelo maintained the tightest of circles.

Now Mizuhara is gone, and Ohtani’s stature continues to rise. He is putting together another monstrous offensive season. He is on track to resume pitching in 2025. And his teammates say he is engaging with them regularly, often without an interpreter.

“He’s been very interactive with the team, talking to everybody,” Dodgers third baseman Max Muncy said.

Roberts, the Dodgers’ manager, sees it too.

“He’s been forced to be his own man, drive his own car, just do things on his own,” Roberts said. “He’s learning things about himself he never knew.”

(Top image: Eamonn Dalton / The Athletic; Photos: Rob Leiter / MLB Photos via Getty Images; Brian Rothmuller / Icon Sportswire; Mitchell Leff / Getty Images)