TOKYO, Japan – When Hideki Matsui lifted up the trophy for the World Series Most Valuable Player (MVP) award, it was a moment felt deeply by Masanori Murakami. Murakami was the first Japanese player brought in to play for the San Francisco Giants in 1964.

Hideki Matsui celebrates with the World Series MVP trophy at Yankee Stadium on November 4, 2009.

He wasn't just the first Japanese, he was also the first Asian to enter the American sport. This was before Japan's emergence on the global stage and less than 20 years after World War II.

Murakami didn't have the million dollar contracts, the interpreters or the kind crowds. "I envy those young players," Murakami said. "It was much tougher for me. I faced a lot of discrimination."

That is an understatement. Murakami, ever polite and humble as an elder Japanese gentleman, doesn't like to talk about those fearful times, when he was badgered on the San Francisco Giants bus by his own teammates.

The public was even worse - the FBI was alerted due to death threats against Murakami and his manager.

Forty-five years later, Matsui is a national hero, both in Japan and in the U.S. He's joined by Major League Baseball giants Daisuke Matsuzaka and Ichiro Suzuki.

"Japan and the U.S. are like brothers now," Murakami said. These brothers now toast their new hero and celebrate his accomplishment in the World Series. But for Murakami, it's beyond celebration. It is a triumph.

BEIJING, China - I hauled myself out of bed at 6 a.m. Sunday to set out for something I'd never done before–run a race in the Beijing marathon.

Jaime FlorCruz, far right, joins Zhang Lianqi, center, and another runner at the finish line.

I’ve been prepping for this day, on and off, for three months since I signed up to run 9.6K as part of the 2009 Beijing International Marathon, the full length of which is a little more than 42 kilometers.

My 58-year-old body seemed fit enough to run the distance, but I woke up with pinching pain on my left knee. For one brief moment, I thought that was a good reason to back out.

I decided to go and run. I had my muesli and banana, took a painkiller and proceeded to Tiananmen Square. Nearly 30,000 people, professionals and amateurs, had gathered there for the 29-year-old annual event. Foreigners paid $100 to register; Chinese paid 150 yuan ($22). Everyone gets a packet, including a runner's bag and bib, an official T-shirt and a certificate of participation.

At the starting line, some came in groups — high school and college students, factory workers, corporate employees, and members of runners’ club from various parts of China. Others came alone or with running buddies. Many joined to challenge themselves. Others, like the nine Chinese nuns from Henan province, run to support charity. Several runners wore distinctive T-shirts emblazoned with company logos ("Bimbo" Bread stands out) and uplifting message (the Obama slogan “Yes We Can” was eye-catching, if a bit tired).

I can too, I thought, as I jogged past Chairman Mao’s portrait soon after the start. Forty minutes and four kilometers later, however, my energy and enthusiasm started to flag. I puffed and winced, as I watched rabbit-like runners overtake me and deflated stragglers fall off behind me. Can I go on for five more Ks?

Just as I was losing confidence, I noticed an elderly man in red shirt, red shorts and blue sneakers, running just ahead of me. I sidled up and politely asked his age. "I’m 76,” he says, smiling.

Zhang Lianqi, it turns out, is a running aficionado. "I've been joining long-distance runs in Beijing since 1956," he recalls, keeping a slow but steady pace. “Once, I finished 37th.” He retired from his transistor-factory job 16 years ago but still jogs two to three kilometers three times a week.

That explains Zhang’s good form. "I've gained a bit of weight but I can still run," he quips. Along the way, he served as my mentor and inspiration. “Let’s not run in the middle of the street,” he suggests, so we avoid runners who are too fast or too slow. He took out two squares of chocolate from a yellow plastic bag and handed me one. “Don’t swallow, just let it melt in your mouth.” Soon, we passed 6K!

Impetuously, I picked up speed, inspired by periodic cheers ("Persistence means victory!") from onlookers and volunteers who’d lined the streets. “Pace yourself,” Zhang warned me. “Don’t run too fast.” Badly dehydrated, I fetched a bottle of water from a volunteer. “Don’t drink too much,” he says. “Just sip.” His most telling unsolicited advice involved attire. “Next time wear running shorts,” he admonished me. “Sweatpants drag you down.” Like a tour guide, he narrated a bit of history of Diaoyutai, as we ran past China's state guest house. He probably just wished to distract me. By the time he finished his spiel, we were only 600 meters away from our goal.

Literally shoulder to shoulder, we crossed the 9.6K finish line. As we posed for souvenir pictures and exchanged phone numbers, I felt especially exhilarated to have found in Mr. Zhang a running companion, a mentor and another Beijing friend. I am glad he pushed me to the finish line.

DALLAS, Texas - You don't go out golfing with the guys without a fair amount of trash talk about each other's bad shots. Even the golfer who just pulled off the impossible doesn't get a fair pass today.

"Ouch," says one of Y.E. Yang's buddies, holding up his fingers an inch apart, as Yang missed a putt on the 12th. Yang flashes him a sideways grin, as if to say he'll get him back on the 13th. Yang is playing with his buddies before our interview, squeezing in time with friends before the media interviews today. We drove up in surprise to see Yang playing, and to our greater surprise, he welcomed us to follow him around.

"Make my friends nervous," he joked to me.

You'd never know by watching these guys joke that YE Yang has just pulled off a historic, and life changing, win last week.

Ranked 110th in the world, Yang faced off with Tiger Woods in the final round of the PGA Championship. The number one-ranked Woods had never lost when entering the final round as the leader, until Yang beat him in one of the sport's greatest upsets, pulling off a feat no other golfer in the world has ever done.

"It will bring peace to the Koreas," joked one of his buddies. Maybe not, but that win catapulted the 37 year old to stratospheric heights of hero-worship in South Korea and across Asia. Yang's victory at the PGA made him the world's first player from Asia to win a major championship, putting a more global face on a sport dominated by Europeans and Americans. Since that win, the relatively unknown golf player has been thrust onto the global stage, chased by international media (we literally chased him onto the golf course today). He even got a personal call from South Korea's president.

Not bad for a kid from a farming family of 8, who couldn't afford to step on a golf course growing up. Yang didn't have the silver spoon background that many golfers have. He taught himself to play at age 19, old by golf standards, hitting balls after-hours at the driving range where he worked. He learned how to grip a club and swing, he tells me, from instructional videos by Jack Nicklaus. Yang never dreamed he'd ever face off with the great Tiger Woods, whom he'd watched on TV for years.

"I woke up that morning and didn't expect to win," Yang said, talking about the final round of the PGA Championship. "So I had this calm in my heart."

That calm helped Yang not crack in the final round, as thousands of spectators watched on the green and millions around the world. But what was notable on that day was how Yang appeared playful, even waving to the live TV camera, as he walked on the fairway of the 15th hole.

"We all saw him smiling throughout the back nine, having fun." said Brian Mogg, Yang's swing coach. "That's the kind of guy he is at all times and it was cool to watch his personality come out, under the heat of playing with Tiger. He's been in some ways, maybe fortunate not to have the spoiled upbringing that many golfers have had and he's been able to have the perspective of, it's a game."

Watching Yang play with his friends on this Dallas, Texas golf course, you can see that love of the game is obvious. Yang later tells me that he hopes to never face off with Tiger again, because he's not sure he'd win again. You get the sense that while wins at the PGA level are important, this game with friends is just as important - and at the heart of why Yang managed to accomplish what no other golfer in the world could.

Throughout one of Europe’s largest cities, the major topic gripping most is not Swine Flu or what will happen to Michael Jackson’s estate – it’s the event officially known simply as “the Championships.”

Errol Barnett soaks up the atmosphere - and drizzle at Wimbledon.

To be able to cover this quintessentially British event while on assignment for CNN in London is quite a treat –-considering I was born in the UK. After living in the U.S. for 16 years, though, I have been reminded of how captivated people in this country become - regularly hearing their romanticized descriptions of the pristine court, centuries old tradition and of course the players.

Also, millions of pounds are pumped into betting shops like William Hill where an analyst told me bets could total £10 million ($16.3 million) on the men’s final match alone. The games at the All England Club have been made increasingly fascinating this year, because of the possibility of Andy Murray making it to and winning the finals – something a Brit has not done in 73 years.

On the day my task was the Men’s Semifinals. I was warned that covering this high-profile event didn’t necessarily mean a glamorous setting. Because of broadcasting rights we cannot film inside the courts, so at 5 am I found our live location on a wet golf course across from a nice brown puddle after a good ol’ English drizzle.

Early morning rain aside - I still saw dozens of people patiently lined up to buy expensive tickets for a game that was still some 8 hours away. Even earlier in the week when I passed through a pub I was surprised to see it quite full and yet very quiet with Wimbledon the firm focus of everyone’s attention.

All of this reminds me of why people around Britain love Wimbledon – a mix of unique tradition, familiarity and polite sportsmanship that make for relaxing afternoon get-togethers with neighbors. It really is wonderful to be home.

TOKYO, Japan - Working for CNN, I have covered mine disasters, civil unrest, hurricanes and war. But until today, I had never done a story on grunting.

Our assignment stemmed from Wimbledon’s crackdown on grunting and yelling in tennis. We were tasked to find out the philosophy behind similar exclamations in the martial arts.

So, we tracked down a likely spot, a karate dojo run by the coach of Japan’s National Karate Team. Masao Kagawa was more than happy to explain about what is known in Japan as kiai (pronounced key-eye) - the yell, grunt or exhalation used to complement a kick or punch.

“There are many kinds of Kiai,” he said. “Kiai can be used first to give yourself energy.  Secondly, it can intimidate your competitor. Third, it can be used to show your skill.”

In order to better explain, he had me put on a robe and taught me the basics. Mind you, I was not one of those kids who took karate. I had never had any instruction at all, and it was pretty obvious.

He would probably deny it, but our teacher was struggling to stifle a grin as he watched me try to imitate the other students.

But I took heart in something else Kagawa told me.

“Kiai is not about pretense,” he said. “It can be silent, when rather than yelling loudly you utter within your mind.”

“Utter within your mind” eh?  That sounds like something Wimbledon officials might want to explore.

JOHANNESBURG, South Africa - Blowing a vuvuzela takes a bit of instruction –- you have to purse your lips together and blow a raspberry into the plastic trumpet.

Robyn Curnow tries out a vuvuzela at Brazil vs. Italy.

The noise that comes out can startle you after your first toot, it sounds like an elephant trumpeting or a foghorn. Soon it become addictive, though, and you have to limit your vuvuzela usage if you don’t want to lose friends, family or your hearing.

I first tried to blow a vuvuzela two weeks ago, at the start of the Confederations Cup which has been held in South Africa ahead of next year’s World Cup. I failed miserably. I blew and I blew and nothing happened, just a few insipid little parps. But at the Brazil vs. Italy game, I got the hang of the vuvuzela and quickly joined the crowd in a jaunty one-note tune. Baaaah! Baaah! Baaah!

It is a sound so irritating and so obnoxious that it’s best to stick with the maxim “if you can’t beat ‘em, join em.” Not blowing a vuvuzela at a South African football game not only makes you feel a bit left out but it also makes you resent the noise everyone else it making.

I can understand why some footballers and fans hate the sound. In stadiums and even watching on television, the constant buzz of the vuvuzelas can be distracting. But with the World Cup one year ahead, everyone just better get used to the inevitable din of the vuvuzelas.

Complaining about the noise they make won’t make a difference –- mostly because no one will be able to hear you above the incessant ringing in their ears.

SEOUL, South Korea – Judging from the media, South Koreans are not only happy about their team qualifying for the finals of the 2010 World Cup –- but they are also ecstatic about the North making it in, too.

“South and North Korean Brothers Make It Into the Finals,” said one South Korean newspaper headline read by locals on the subway.

The Joongang Daily has a front page picture of the star players from each of the teams with this headline: “The Two Men Go Together to the World Cup.”

“Will the two teams score goals of reconciliation?” the newspaper wrote in a headline for another story on the matches.

Another national daily, which said a joint cheering squad should be formed, wrote: “South and North Korea to Go Together to the Finals for the First Time in 44 Years.”

In fact next year's tournament in South Africa will be the first time both Koreas have played at the same World Cup. South Korea made their tournament debut in 1954 and have qualified for every World Cup since 1986, reaching the semifinals on home soil in 2002. North Korea's sole appearance in the World Cup was in 1966 in England where they reached the quarterfinals.

The teams’ achievements also topped the main news programs of South Korean TV stations.

While this may seem strange to the outside world, it is not if you consider the fact that in South Korea there are two mutually exclusive North Koreas.

One is the belligerent North Korea, which is seemingly bent on becoming a nuclear state and is led by secretive leader Kim Jong-Il.

The other is the North Korea that was severed by the South through a war that many people here feel was not of Koreans making. It is the idea of North Korea as the lost and impoverished brother that has gone astray.

North Korea is still the home for the brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters of tens of thousands of South Koreans.

Family members that these South Koreans never get to see, never get to hear from, except for a few isolated “family reunions.”

So while the rest of the world may see a rogue state, South Korea sees a country filled with "brothers" that need to be embraced.

Brothers that were "helped" when South Korea's star player Park Ji-Sung fired in the equalizing goal against Iran.

If the South Koreans had lost, North Korea's chances of making it to the World Cup would have gone up in smoke.

So while in almost no other place and instance, can South and North Koreans go hand in hand, it seems at the World Cup finals in South Africa, they will be able to play, brother alongside brother.

And that is worth celebrating.

ATLANTA, Georgia – As it turned out, it was no idle threat. They had warned it was on the cards and now the stark reality of a Formula One breakaway faction has arrived.

Eight of the sport’s major teams (Formula One Teams Association or FOTA) have potentially thrown the glamorous world of F1 into chaos by making good on their intention to set up a rival championship for 2010.

It follows months of talks and frustrations after they failed to resolve their dispute with motor sport's governing body over financial constraints. Quite simply, the Formula One Teams' Association announced they would not compromise on the quality of the series by signing up unconditionally for the 2010 F1 season following the release of the Federation Internationale de l'Automobile’s (FIA) radical new plans for cost-cutting.

All of this follows FIA president Max Mosley’s insistence on introducing a voluntary $60 million budget cap for teams to curtail what has been called a "financial arms race" in the sport.

The teams in question are championship leader Brawn GP, Ferrari, McLaren, Renault, Toyota, BMW Sauber, Red Bull Racing and Toro Rosso. With the two remaining outfits, Force India and Williams, staying put as it were.

The crux appears to have been a four-hour meeting on Thursday ahead of this weekend's British Grand Prix at Silverstone. The timing of this is certainly significant, but the big question is to what extent is it all really surprising?

This whole chain of events has had a degree of inevitability about it for a number of weeks now and in my mind, there was little doubt those who wanted to go it alone would do just that.

The FIA now has a huge choice to make. Does it back down or does it maintain its stance? This story is just really getting going and there are sure to be many more twists and turns along the way … but as it stands right now there is a very really possibility that next season could start with not one, but two, Formula One competitions running side by side.

BARCELONA, Spain (CNN) – For many fans here in Barcelona, the celebration started after the first goal, by Samuel Eto’o, in the Champions League final against Manchester United. Others, older and having seen more disappointments from their beloved Barcelona over the years, were more cautious. They didn’t become jubilant until Messi scored the second goal in the second half.

Barcelona fans celebrate in the streets of the Spanish city.

By that time, from our position with the thousands of Barca fans watching the game on a big screen in the old port area, it was sheer pandemonium – a field of red and blue Barcelona stripes, sparklers and fireworks, thousands of well lubricated (it wasn’t the local coffee, I don’t think) fans singing the Barca hymn.

Doing one liveshot after another for CNN, I could barely hear the questions from colleagues in the studios. But we were able to transmit the sheer joy of the historic moment – Barcelona getting its third trophy this year - the Spanish league and the Spanish King’s Cup and finally the sweetest of all, the Champions League.

And all of it for a first-year coach, Josep “Pep” Guardiola, just 38, a former Barca player whom one leading Barcelona newspaper on Thursday said was “touching heaven.”

After the game we headed toward the central Plaza de Catalunya, along with almost every other man, woman, child and house pet in town. Others came in from across the region of Catalunya, some six million people in northeast Spain who consider this team part of their identity.

They celebrated on foot and in cars. And on top of cars and hanging out of cars, and on top of fountains, and waving banners and singing the Barca hymn.

Until about 3 am local time, it looked like the happy cops weren’t even trying. Although over the course of the night, we learned there were more than 100 arrests for various disturbances and more than a hundred injured.

As we drove back to the hotel after 4 am, having sent our final TV story by broadband, we saw various trash containers burning, a strange way to celebrate such a momentous victory.

On Thursday, we are at the fabled Camp Nou stadium. The team arrives from Rome around 6 pm local time, then boards open air buses for a three-hour victory lap around central Barcelona, finally due to arrive at the stadium which will be filled. Hundreds of thousands of people expected to continue the party across Barcelona for a second straight day.

At the stadium, there’ll be a presentation of the players and the cup, and the ceremony will be sure to include, yes, the Barca hymn. It’s a catchy tune, and I might just learn it by the time we’re finished here.

MANILA, Philippines – Manny Pacquiao for Philippines president? Definitely not now, says the man himself, but he doesn't rule it out in the future. What looks increasingly likely though is that he will run for Congress, perhaps as early as next year.

Manny Pacquiao is ready to launch a political career.

It's a question that is raising passionate debate in the Philippines. Should the fighter known the world over since last Saturday's demolition of Briton Ricky Hatton go into politics? Would this "people's champion" be a good politician?

Pacquiao himself appears serious. He has already formed his People's Champ Movement, a nascent political party which was this week endorsed by the Commission for Elections.

And he obviously has huge popular appeal; that goes a long way in Philippines politics. Look at former president Joseph Estrada – a local movie star who always played the hero parlayed that into a presidency. It ended with him being found guilty of economic "plunder" and given a life sentence.

Take a non-scientific straw poll on the streets of Manila and the answers are surprising. Most Filipinos want Pacquiao to keep the gloves on. They prefer him as world champion boxer.

"I don't think he would be very good. Politics is ugly and he could end up being used by the wrong elements," said one person we spoke to. It was a typical response. Manny is above the political murk; he should stick to what he knows best.

It is by no means universal. Some say he can do both. Why can't you be a politician and an athlete, asked one who described himself as Manny's No.1 fan in the Philippines. (I met at least 20 "No.1 fans").

Incumbent politicians also seem to be lining up with their advice. Perhaps not surprisingly it's negative. And some of the Manila-based newspapers also have their doubts.

But you have to applaud the man at least for thinking of the longer term. Too many champion boxers end up with nothing.

But here's a thought, expressed in the opinion page of the Philippine Enquirer. Why, it asks, did Pacquiao go against the advice of the World Health Organisation, a plea from his own Government and potentially put his young family and countless fans at risk of infection of swine flu by returning to the Philippines?

He would have lost nothing, the paper says, but a few days by staying in quarantine away from his country until he was medically cleared of any infection.

His actions would also have done a huge amount to promote public awareness of the virus.

Did he, as the paper suggests, "demonstrate an appalling incapacity to sacrifice for the common good." That's a damning suggestion for any aspiring politician.