When the crowd at Rogers Centre roared “We don’t need you!” during Shohei Ohtani’s final at-bat of Game 1, it wasn’t just noise—it was a statement. A reminder from a city that once dreamed of landing baseball’s biggest global superstar, only to watch him sign with the Los Angeles Dodgers instead.
Blue Jays fans are chanting “We don’t need you!” at Shohei Ohtani as the Dodgers are down to their final out in Game 1 in Toronto
— Michael J. Duarte (@michaeljduarte) October 25, 2025
But on Sunday night at Dodger Stadium, Ohtani didn’t meet the chant with bitterness or defiance. He met it with a smile.
“It was a really great chant,” Ohtani said through a translator, grinning as cameras flickered. “And my wife really appreciated it.”
The comment drew laughter across the room, a touch of levity before Game 3 of the World Series. Even in the eye of baseball’s biggest stage, Ohtani showed why he’s more than a generational talent—he’s unshakably human.
Behind the humor, though, was the truth. Yes, Ohtani heard them.
“Of course I heard the chant,” he said. “Just like I hear the ‘M-V-P’ chants at home. But when I’m in the box, I’m focused. It doesn’t really bother me.”
Toronto fans had their reasons. Two winters ago, Blue Jays supporters believed they were finalists in the Ohtani sweepstakes. When he instead chose Los Angeles, it left a sting—a wound reopened when he stepped into the batter’s box in their house wearing Dodger blue. The boos, the chants, the noise—it all came pouring out like catharsis.
Dodgers manager Dave Roberts had joked that Ohtani was too locked in to notice. Turns out, he noticed everything.
“He even told us his wife teased him about it,” Roberts said with a grin. “That’s Shohei for you—he takes everything in stride.”
For all the theatrics, the Dodgers do need Ohtani. He’s tied with Toronto’s Vladimir Guerrero Jr. for the most home runs in the postseason (six), though his overall playoff average sits at .224 through 12 games. His swing—majestic, patient, deceptively violent—has carried flashes of brilliance and stretches of silence.
“I feel better at the plate lately,” Ohtani admitted. “But you have to give credit to their pitching. Every at-bat, every pitch—it’s a battle. I just try to prepare as best I can.”
On Sunday, under the soft California dusk, Ohtani looked relaxed—at ease, even. The storm from Toronto had long passed.
“I just hope,” he joked, “that my wife doesn’t start chanting that at home.”
It was classic Ohtani—grace, humility, and humor wrapped in one. The kind of moment that makes baseball feel small again, like a game among friends, even when the whole world is watching.
And as the World Series shifts to Los Angeles, the chant that started in Toronto may have found its perfect ending: a laugh shared under the bright lights, by the man who never seems to flinch.
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Source: NBC Los Angeles
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