THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS QUESTION OHTANI, CONTRARY TO MEDIA FLIP-FLOPPING

There were 19,000 bets and $40.67 million in losses in 30 months — somehow, Ohtani still had NO IDEA how his bank account was defrauded by his very close friend, which isn’t possible in any MLB fraud

     One was peanut butter. The other was jelly, a close friend who perched himself with Shohei Ohtani as an interpreter for media interviews, clubhouse occasions and important chats with the manager. Off the field, they were inseparable at hotels, sushi joints and on the road across North America. Their romantic partners were just as attached. If everyone was so inseparable, explain why Ohtani didn’t know that Ippei Mizuhara made more than 19,000 bets and lost $40.67 million since late 2021?

     Again, 19,000 bets with $40.67 million in losses in 30 months.

     And Ohtani was the victim of a “massive theft” because of Mizuhara. He was a victim of what, ghosting? Social fragmentation? Or just ignoring what should have been reported immediately to the Los Angeles Angels/Dodgers, Major League Baseball and federal authorities? He DIDN’T KNOW? Or, did he know like any other companion and just ignored it, preferring to take swings in a cage and prep for his next pitching start days later?

     There is no good explanation. Ohtani was aware and should be interrogated by MLB investigators who, naturally, have been ordered to leave him alone so he can make massive money for commissioner Rob Manfred and the owners. Do the math, equate their locations for the last six years. And if Ohtani knew of the gambling frequency, wouldn’t he have asked, at some point, how Mizuhara was paying for his lost wagers? As a sports superstar in two overblown countries, wouldn’t he grasp that a front-and-center employee who was with him constantly shouldn’t bet at all hours of the day and night? Wouldn’t he have asked how Mizuhara was paying the bookmaker in a betting-averse state, California, where the man was illegal?

     And in a weird moment, when dealing with someone that intimate in his life for a long time, wouldn’t Ohtani have called an official at the bank or his personal agent to make sure an immediate friend wasn’t using Ohtani’s millions? Wouldn’t someone at the bank have noticed wrongdoing when Mizuhara impersonated Ohtani? Wouldn’t Ohtani’s status as a famous celebrity have attracted particular attention? Maybe it would have prompted a call to Ohtani and ask about the fuss on his account. On Feb. 2, 2022 — according to federal investigators — Mizuhara called the bank and said he was wiring money to his bookmakers for “a car loan.” Here is where any capable bank official would stop everything and call Ohtani, realizing Mizuhara might be stealing from his account. No contact was made, and later that day, Ippei the Creep called back the bank and identified himself as Ohtani. No one cared, or so the feds claim. Shouldn’t someone in the bank have reported those discussions to a boss who would instantly call Ohtani? Nope, as a legal affidavit noted Ohtani “does not speak English fluently … the caller spoke fluent English.” That’s the financial world in 2024, huh? Someone on the phone is identifying language and not monitoring deceit.

     So if I want to steal money from a Cuban player, Houston’s Yordan Alvarez, I would befriend him and try the same tactic. He also needs an interpreter. Maybe his bank person would like me and let me wire money from his account for a car loan. I could try this with any number of international players.

     I’m having a very difficult time understanding why Ohtani, on Friday at Dodger Stadium, told a Los Angeles Times reporter, “I’m very grateful for the Department of Justice’s investigation. For me personally, this marks a break from this, and I’d like to focus on baseball.” Sorry, I would like to focus on Ohtani. As I read MLB’s description of why he was a full-blown victim of Mizuhara stealing $16 million from his account, I see Ohtani at least as a contributor — if not possibly gambling himself, which we still don’t know — to his interpreter’s gambling addiction. That would mean he’s lying and would lead to further probes of his lifestyle in recent years in Orange County, down the freeway. If he’s lying in a betting case, Ohtani would deserve a lengthy suspension from Manfred, whether he gambled or not.

     Furthermore, Creative Artists Agency employs 3,400 people. Ohtani’s agent, Nez Balelo, does not speak Japanese at CAA — he might try — nor do a bookkeeper and financial advisor. Curious. The agency represents Japanese talents, including Show Kasamatsu, who played the dominant role of Akiro Sato in the “Tokyo Vice” TV crime drama on Max. Isn’t it shocking to know Balelo and the others relied on Mizuhara to translate because CAA “does not employ any individuals who speak Japanese” on Avenue of the Stars in Century City? What if Kasamatsu needs his own interpreter? Nothing gets done? Or would they have called Ippei?

     As I wrote Thursday, meet the reverse version of Pete Rose and the Black Sox. Everything baseball did to ban one bettor for life and accuse eight Chicago players of fixing a World Series — the antithesis happened with Ohtani. A. Bartlett Giamatti, father of the actor Paul, wanted Rose and since has been backed by Bud Selig and Manfred. Kenesaw Mountain Landis went after the Sox. Manfred wants no part of investigating Ohtani for months. He settled this in merely three weeks, regardless of his sport’s unstable integrity through time.

     What bothers me, as a columnist who has throttled Jerry Reinsdorf for decades in Chicago, is how a dying craft hides behind a courtroom. Mizuhara showed up Friday in a dark suit with his ankles shackled. His bond was $25,000 and he didn’t have to put up cash. He no longer can gamble as he seeks treatment. That’s about it, for now. This is a complete joke, and yet, I’m pained by columnists who prefer to keep work than challenge all sides of the truth. Bill Plaschke is a writer I’ve respected. But he works for the Times, where the owner is Patrick Soon-Shiong. He tried to buy the Dodgers before the Guggenheim brigade moved in. He also has been a minority owner of the Los Angeles Lakers since 2010. Lately, he has complained of financial worries and has laid off ample percentages of the newsroom.

     To his credit, Plaschke questioned Ohtani when the original Mizuhara news broke, writing he “didn’t quite believe Ohtani recently when he said he knew nothing about an alleged $4.5 million in wire transfers to an illegal bookie.” But once the feds slapped down the interpreter, Plaschke flipped this week like a man who doesn’t want to piss off the boss. He wrote: “I now believe. (Sixteen million? Are you kidding me?).”

     Nineteen thousand bets, Bill.

     This is how columnists remain employed. Never mind the comment of former manager Joe Maddon: The two were peanut butter and jelly. Ask baseball scribe Ken Rosenthal of the Athletic, who also wondered about Ohtani. Now, after the New York Times broke the story of Mizuhara’s bust, Rosenthal looks at his paycheck and knows the Times owns his publication. About face. “If this isn’t exoneration for Shohei Ohtani, it’s as good as it gets,” he wrote.

     Forty million in losses, Ken.

     All we have is a bunch of quickie goo from a U.S. attorney. Just pour through the legalese and pick out possible violations. Even the written mention of a bookie, last November, makes me wonder about Ohtani’s role. “I’m here in Newport Beach and I see (Ohtani) walking his dog," came a message to Mizuhara. “I’m just gonna go up and talk to him and ask how I can get in touch with you since you're not responding? Please call me back immediately.”

     Two months later, the same bookie wrote Mizuhara again: “You're putting me in a position where this is going to get out of control. If I don’t hear from you by the end of the day today it's gonna be out of my hands.”

     And Shohei Ohtani didn’t know a damned thing. “I just feel for Shohei that he’s had to have this burden,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said Friday. “But he’s handled it really well and hasn’t let it affect his performance.”

     Then he mentioned something about a “poker face,” drawing humor from reporters, before saying, “He’s very stoic.”

     No, he’s just playing Major League Baseball’s fool’s game. It’s a good gig for $700 million, with no one caring about where he was and what he did for too many years.

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     Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.