When Athletics signed Shotaro Morii last season, it wasn’t just an international signing. It was an ambitious statement. A Japanese player bypassed the familiar route through the NPB, went straight to America, and carried a bold promise: I’ll do both.
No one seriously compared Morii to Shohei Ohtani—at least not publicly. But deep down, everyone understood why that name always came up in conversation. A two-way player at the highest level was almost unthinkable. And that’s why Morii became the center of attention.
For the 2025 season, Athletics chose to take it slow. Morii was only 18, playing in the Arizona Complex League as a hitter—at least on paper. Behind the scenes, he was still pitching, still being watched, still being “prepared.” The results on the surface weren’t bad: .258 average, OBP .399, OPS .783, three home runs, and a 25% strikeout rate. Not explosive, but enough to show a solid foundation.
And then the 2026 plan was revealed—heating things up again.
The A’s plan to release Morii in a truly dual role at Stockton: playing infield, DH, and one turn per week in the rotation. A full-scale test. No more “ideas,” just practice.
Baseball America called Morii one of the A’s breakout candidates for 2026, but the tone was… cautious. Good exit velocity for his age, decent arm strength, but his shortstop range is only “fringy.” His long-term position might have to be second or third. On the mound, Morii is still rough: fastball low-90s, splitter feels good, slider leans towards a curveball. Smooth delivery—a big plus.
It all sounded like a “must-watch” profile. But when the question was posed on BA’s YouTube channel—would Morii still be a two-way player this time next year?—the answer came quickly. And coldly.
“No,” Geoff Pontes said. No beating around the bush. No evasiveness.
His argument wasn’t that Morii lacked talent. It was the nature of the game. From Babe Ruth to Ohtani, it was over 100 years. Science, technology, coaching methods had changed—but the core requirement hadn’t: to be a league-average player on both sides was incredibly difficult, let alone excellent. Add to that the risk of injury—a two-way player had… twice as many ways to be out of the game.
This sounded familiar. Very familiar. Because Ohtani had been doubted in exactly the same way.
And that’s where Morii stood a paradox. If he succeeded, he would be a phenomenon. If he fails, it won’t be because he’s bad—but because the standards are too harsh. The question is no longer whether the A’s will let Morii try. They’ve already done so. The question is how long they’ll actually let him try.
For Stockton fans, Morii is a reason to get to the field early. A hit. A pitch. A rare moment. If things “click,” High-A Lansing will arrive very quickly. But if not—2026 could be the year the A’s have to make a decision they don’t want to make: choose one half, and leave the other half behind.
Being a two-way player is always a beautiful dream. But baseball doesn’t live on dreams. It lives on difficult choices—and Shotaro Morii is getting very close to that moment when he has to answer that choice.
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