FINALLY, IT'S HERE, the promotion we've all been waiting for -- Ichiro Hydroplane Night.

What a combination, Ichiro Suzuki and hydros -- I just don't get that at all, but his name sells and attracts, and that's what matters. The Mariners could have Ichiro Toilet Paper Roll Night and his many fans would want one of those, too.

Ichiro Hydroplane Night got me to thinking about Ichiro. I wasn't his biggest fan. I didn't appreciate him and I wasn't sure why. I guess it's because he seemed distant, aloof, unapproachable, inaccessible and a few other unflattering words I can't come up with at this moment.

I could never be certain if he was that way, and thankfully he's not.

Thursday afternoon, a 90-minute tour of the Mariners clubhouse proved otherwise. My goal was to find out about Ichiro the person. This was a difficult assignment. The man is known for being extremely private, and the cultural differences are not easily explained. But I gave it hell anyway because I didn't have a Plan B.

I started with Ichiro himself, and boy did that go well. I asked his interpreter, Ken Barron, if Ichiro could answer a few questions even though I wasn't sure what I was going to ask -- something about his dog, of course; and whether he drank beer and played golf; if he and his wife wanted to have kids; if he had heard of Paris Hilton; and what he liked to do for fun.

"This is not a good time," Ichiro said through Barron.

"Well, how about in an hour?" I asked.

"Not today, we just got back from a long trip," Ichiro said through Barron.

"I was just wondering what he thought about having his name on a hydro," I said, sounding desperate.

"Not today," Ichiro said through Barron again.

Ichiro did not understand that tomorrow does not work for me, nor does Sunday, and I might be too busy next week, too. Apparently this does not bother him.

I was left to badger his supporting cast for details and got off to a roaring start with Willie Bloomquist.

"You know anything about Ichiro off the field?" I asked the utility man.

Long pause. Dumbfounded look. "He's got a dog," Bloomquist said. "His personal life, I don't think anybody knows much about it."

Bloomquist has never gone out to dinner with him on the road, and never even sees him on the road.

Ichiro sits two rows behind reliever Chris Reitsma on the team plane. Reitsma notices that Ichiro watches Japanese videos on his laptop.

Most of the players I talked to said Ichiro spends a lot of time listening to his iPod. Bloomquist sits behind him on the team bus and once asked him what he listens to.

"Japanese hip-hop," Ichiro told him.

Most of his teammates are in the dark, and it's so dark, it's pitch black.

Another curiosity -- does he speak English better than he lets on? The answer to that is an emphatic yes.

"He's playing it stupid," starter Miguel Batista said. "He knows more English than you think he does."

You probably know he's married to a former TV reporter, Yumiko Fukushima. According to Wikipedia, they exchanged vows on Dec. 3, 1999, at a small church in Santa Monica, Calif.

He's got at least one dog, a Shiba Inu named Ikkyu that Ichiro supposedly consulted before signing his big contract. Ikkyu said "woof, woof, woof," which meant "stay, stay, stay" in Seattle to Ichiro. In an interview two years ago, Ichiro said he also has a golden retriever in Japan.

Ichiro's Shiba Inu is named after Ikkyu, a 14th century Japanese Zen Buddhist priest and poet. On one Web site, it says that Ikkyu is a tremendously important figure in the evolution of world thinking. I found it more interesting to learn that Ikkyu was a troublemaker who drank a lot and went to brothels, believing that sexual intercourse was a religious rite.

Ichiro loves his dog and likes to drive. He owns a Porsche that he drives to Safeco Field. I couldn't find out what kind of Porsche it is, but it's "souped up," manager John McLaren said. All indications are that Ichiro's a fast driver.

Depending on whom you talk to, Ichiro is many other things. "He's a normal guy," Raul Ibanez said. "He's a funny, witty guy," McLaren said. "He's a very smart guy," Batista said. "He's a great guy," Bloomquist said.

They're united on something else -- the Mariners have never seen a guy dress the way Ichiro does. Batista understands that "he's Japanese, he's going to dress Japanese," but still.

"One thing about him, he's not particular," said Batista, who's seen him wearing bright colors, drab colors and colors that don't match. "He's got his own style."

I never found out if he drinks beer, but crack research uncovered that Ichiro does indeed golf. McLaren played with him once in Arizona, and Ichiro showed up in a long-sleeve shirt and shorts and was wearing black socks. He swung right-handed.

His teammates respect Ichiro and speak highly of him. They've seen him do many things and marvel at his preparation, his dedication, but still they wonder: Does he ever eat?

Ben Broussard has never seen him eat, aside from one time when Ichiro was at his locker having "some kind of something he was munching on."

"If we knew what he was eating, a lot of us would try to eat it because it's working for him," Broussard said.

Batista thinks he saw Ichiro bring some "Japanese stuff" on the plane once but also said: "I've never seen him eat. Nobody has."

What about those postgame spreads in the clubhouse? He's never there.

Batista acknowledged that some people might think Ichiro's weird, but he's not. He's being himself. "He's Ichiro," Batista said.