Granted, if it hadn’t been Nomo, it might have been someone else. But chances are it would have taken more time.

If you can still remember the massive collapse that was Hideki Irabu, you know what I mean.

Unlike Irabu, who failed dismally with the Yankees and the San Diego Padres, Nomo blew into the National League as an immediate force, winning the Rookie of the Year award in 1995.

With his high wind-up and its lengthy pause, ever the ire of opposing managers early in Nomo’s career, batters were flummoxed at the plate against him---he struck out 236 that first year.

He also finished 13-6 with an ERA under 3.00, started that year’s All-Star Game, and helped the Dodgers make the playoffs for the first time since 1988, when they won the World Series.

In his second year he was dominant enough to finish fourth in the Cy Young Award voting for the second straight year, but things quickly went downhill from there.

There were moments of brilliance, such as no-hitters in each league, including the first and only one at Denver’s Coors Field. And he recaptured some of his glory in 2002, going 16-6 with a 3.39 ERA. But the fervor that overtook baseball with his arrival had long since departed.

Nomo’s most meaningful contribution to the game was succeeding early on. He helped to set the stage for the wave of Japanese players who have transferred their skills to the Major League level.

It is not a Hall of Fame feat, but one that deserves some recognition, perhaps from a team he never even played for.

The Seattle Mariners owe a debt of thanks to Nomo. Without him, there is no Ichiro, there is no Kenji Johjima.

No team has benefitted more from the influx of Japanese players, restoring the faith of a fan base that saw its best three players walk out the door, and opening its market to a new country.

The Boston Red Sox also might want to send a fruit basket Nomo’s way. Besides being a stop-gap measure for the team as its young pitchers matured, he is the reason there is a Daisuke Matsuzaka and a Hideki Okajima pitching in Boston.

Again, Nomo isn’t the sole reason they are here today, but his early success helped overcome the prejudice against Japanese players playing, and playing well, in the U.S.

Nomo will likely never have a plaque in Cooperstown, but his effect on the game for the long term has been more important than his career numbers. And that is something to be celebrated.

A version of this article originally appeared at FanIQ.com.