A Rookie In The Baseball Team Is Too Good [EN]: Chapter 319

76. Do You Eat Well? (3)

Exactly 30 minutes later.

Jisub was staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror.

A very unfamiliar version of himself.

“……”

He was wearing an apron.

An apron with the words ‘Home Sweet Home’ emblazoned on it.

Complete with a white hair covering, a transparent mask, and thin silicone cooking gloves.

A getup he hadn’t even worn during home economics class in elementary school.

That’s right. Jisub was now in the cooking area of the staff dormitory at the nursing home.

His ‘mentor,’ Ms. Anne Reynolds, had prepared a hands-on session for making traditional Venezuelan food.

“Um… Ms. Reynolds?”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jisub had tried to suggest a more reasonable alternative.

“How about you just tell us the names of the dishes? We can look up the specific recipes online ourselves….”

He had taken the time to come all the way here, and he couldn’t afford to spend it leisurely doing cooking practice.

He needed to have as many conversations as possible and extract as much of her 30 years of experience as he could to even break even on the time spent.

Therefore, Jisub tried to change Ms. Reynolds’ mind, but it didn’t work out as he hoped.

“The internet? These days, people think the internet can do everything.”

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Ms. Reynolds looked quite displeased.

“Did you not listen to what I said earlier? ‘The taste of home’ isn’t that simple, you know?”

“……”

“Even the same dish can change dramatically depending on the ingredients and when you add the spices… Does the internet tell you all that? Are you sure?”

“W, well, if you ask if I’m sure….”

Jisub could confidently argue with anyone when it came to baseball, but he was practically clueless about cooking.

As Jisub, rendered speechless, took a step back, his mentor confidently stated,

“Alright, let’s start the practice! Today, we’ll be making sancocho [a traditional Latin American soup], specifically sancocho from the Llanos region of Venezuela….”

Ms. Reynolds began her explanation with a clear pronunciation that belied her eighty-two years.

It was at this moment that Ronnie Cordell, a Baltimore team employee standing next to Jisub, spoke in a low voice.

“I’m sorry, Kim.”

He also looked embarrassed.

“It’s my fault for bringing up the ‘taste of home’ thing….”

It’s okay.

The die is already cast.

Jisub gave a wry smile and turned his gaze back to Ms. Anne Reynolds.

* * *

It was an unexpected situation in many ways.

From encountering his mentor, who was over eighty years old, in the hospital parking lot smoking area.

To suddenly being dragged into the cooking area, being given an apron, and having to make a Venezuelan traditional dish he had never heard of.

However, the most unexpected thing for Jisub that day was this.

Anne Reynolds—the lecture from the mentor he was connected with through the Fort Myers University MBA program—was incredibly beneficial.

‘……Huh?’

Of course, Jisub initially participated in the practice with a listless look, like a dead fish.

He was also secretly annoyed when he received messages from those who hadn’t attended the ‘Meeting with the Mentor’ that day.

-Kim, Cordell said you’re cooking right now… Is that true?

-Cooking? You went all the way to Clearwater to cook? Wow, that sounds so fun!

-Learn well and teach us too! We have a lot of Venezuelan players in Toronto too 🙂

Even when checking messages from people in the AL East, Jisub was grinding his teeth, thinking, ‘I’ll get you guys later.’

However, by the time he faced the dish that was completed after about an hour of practice, Jisub’s thoughts had changed slightly.

‘Unexpectedly… not bad?’

Sancocho, was it called?

A soup dish made by stewing beef as the main ingredient, with coarsely chopped vegetables such as potatoes, corn, and carrots.

The taste was better than expected, but what caught Jisub’s attention at that moment was what followed.

“Wow, this is delicious! It’s really delicious, Ms. Reynolds!”

More precisely, it was right after Ronnie Cordell tasted the finished ‘Sancocho’ and exclaimed in surprise.

“There’s a reason why so many major leaguers came from the players who stayed at Ms. Reynolds’ house! If you eat such delicious food, you’ll have strength you never had before!”

It was at that moment, as Ronnie Cordell raved about and praised the finished dish, that an unexpected answer came from Ms. Anne Reynolds.

“No, that’s not it.”

She was about to take out a cigarette out of habit, but she lowered her hand slightly, realizing the gaze of a hospital employee.

“I didn’t make this kind of food when the players stayed at our house.”

“Excuse me?”

Ronnie Cordell tilted his head.

“You didn’t make this? That’s strange, there were definitely a lot of stories about the ‘taste of home’ in the newspaper articles.”

“Oh, you have to think about it. Most of the players who stayed at our house were rookie-level players.”

Ms. Reynolds said.

“They had just left their hometowns, and the league season was only about three months long… Would they have time to feel homesick? They were so busy.”

“Ah, now that I hear it….”

“At that time, meat was the only answer. I would go to the butcher shop and buy the cheapest and largest quantity of meat, and keep grilling it in a frying pan, until the kids were too tired to eat and fell asleep.”

Ms. Anne Reynolds stroked her forearm with a faint smile, as if recalling those hectic days.

Ronnie Cordell nodded slowly and asked her again.

“Then when did you make this kind of dish….”

“Later, much later.”

She replied.

“When the players who left our house bounced around Single-A, Double-A, and minor league teams….”

A short silence followed.

“When they came to see me one last time, saying they were going to quit baseball, that’s when I would make it for them.”

* * *

Ms. Anne Reynolds’ ‘taste of home,’ which was quite famous among major league players.

A heartfelt dish that she made considering not only the players’ countries of origin but also their hometowns.

But it wasn’t made for players who were homesick.

“Ah…….”

Ronnie Cordell of Baltimore seemed to feel a pang in his heart at the words ‘when they quit baseball.’

However, Jisub, who had been quietly eating the sancocho meat soup, was tilting his head.

Something was odd.

“You made them hometown food… when they said they were going to quit baseball?”

The timing is a bit strange, isn’t it?

That was Jisub’s thought at the time.

“Why especially then? If they quit baseball, that means they’re going back to their hometown soon… Then there’s no reason to serve them hometown food, is there?”

No matter how great Ms. Reynolds’ skills were, they wouldn’t compare to the skills of a local.

The ingredients are different, the cooking utensils are different, and even if they are similar, there must be something different.

Rather, if you were going to treat them, wouldn’t it be better to make their memory food, ‘unlimited grilled meat’?

To Jisub’s question, which might have been obvious, Ms. Anne Reynolds gave the following answer.

“Well, it wasn’t anything grand… It was just food I made to remind them of their beginnings.”

“Beginnings?”

“Yes, I mean the time when they first signed with a major league team and left their hometowns.”

Hometown food can do that.

Ms. Reynolds continued.

“If they revive the dreams they had at the beginning, the hopes they had at the beginning… the memories that have become blurred while living in America, they might come to a different conclusion.”

There was no need to ask what ‘different conclusion’ meant.

It was a story about trying one more time. A story about trying to find strength one more time.

It wasn’t difficult to guess the context of the action, but Jisub was slightly critical at this time.

“Was it… effective?”

Long before he started working for the baseball team, Jisub had watched people quit baseball.

In fact, he didn’t have to go far. Jisub himself had decided to retire from active duty three years ago.

So it was a field he prided himself on knowing better than anyone else—the heart of someone who quits baseball.

“If they were going around meeting people they were grateful for, they would have already made up their minds… Was Ms. Reynolds’ hometown food effective?”

“Well, I think the friend over there has already answered that question?”

Ms. Reynolds’ reaction was relaxed.

“Didn’t you hear what your friend said? Many ‘major leaguers’ praised my hometown food. Huh? In interviews with the ‘Major League’ media.”

“……Hmm?”

As Jisub’s thick eyebrows twitched once, his mentor said with a soft smile.

“Kim, was it? I haven’t learned much, but there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching players for a long time.”

And then one more word.

“People, you know, sometimes they don’t even know themselves.”

What they want.

What they want to do.

When you’re caught up in the affairs of the world, there comes a time when even you can’t know it exactly.

That was the last teaching that the mentor teacher gave to Jisub that day.

* * *

And that same evening.

Jisub, having finished his class at the nursing home, was returning to his home in St. Petersburg.

‘I thought it was a cooking class… Turns out it was a philosophy class.’

As he climbed the stairs to his house, Jisub was thinking about his meeting with the mentor that day.

‘Sometimes you don’t even know yourself… Yeah, that could be true.’

It was also a fact that he had been vaguely aware of while working for the baseball team.

It’s not like Jisub was always successful.

There were often cases where he thought he was giving the player the support they wanted, but it came back with unexpected results.

He clearly read his inner thoughts and acted on them, but strangely, the reaction was different from what he expected.

Occasionally, that happened, so Jisub had no choice but to nod at the mentor’s words.

‘Damn, it’s difficult.’

That was the honest feeling.

‘There are things you can’t solve even if you read their inner thoughts… What are you supposed to do then?’

Do I need more experience?

Do I need to study more?

It was right then, as he was trudging along with those thoughts.

‘Hmm?’

Jisub’s eyes narrowed.

A strange man was loitering in front of his house.

‘……What is that?’

He was a very large man.

He was chubby. Not comparable to Professor Kevin Pryor, but still, he looked like he weighed at least 120 kg [approximately 265 pounds].

With such a large figure loitering in front of his house, Jisub had no choice but to tense up all his muscles.

“What is it?”

At the same time as climbing the stairs, Jisub spoke to the man.

“Who are you, loitering in front of someone else’s house?”

The United States had worse security than Korea.

He was about to clench his teeth as if he was about to throw a punch at any moment.

“Ah!”

The man’s face, turning towards Jisub, was innocent itself.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you Kim? From the Tampa Bay Rays?”

The man seemed to know Jisub.

“Yes, but… who are you?”

“I knew it! My guess was right!”

Hello!

The man greeted him energetically.

“My name is Julio Arcos! As of today, I have been included on the Tampa Bay’s 26-man roster [the list of players eligible to play in Major League games].”

“26-man roster?”

Jisub’s mind raced.

26-man roster. The list of players who play in Major League games.

If he has joined this list now, there was only one conclusion he could draw.

“Paul Torres?”

Jisub asked.

“Are you the one who was coming up from Triple A [the highest level of Minor League Baseball] as a replacement for Paul Torres…?”

“Wow, you’re really Kim! The team staff talked a lot about Kim, there must be a reason?”

Hahaha.

The man who introduced himself as ‘Arcos’ laughed, leaning back.

“Yes, I am the replacement player. I will be staying in this apartment for the time being… So I wanted to say hello to Kim, who is my neighbor!”

Pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you!

Julio Arcos, with a bright expression, reached out to shake Jisub’s hand.

“Ah, yes, nice to meet you too.”

Jisub also smiled faintly and grabbed his hand.

However, at the next moment, a memory that Jisub had forgotten for a while was coming back to his mind.

‘Wait a minute, then is this the guy?’

Jisub looked at Julio Arcos.

‘Is this the troublesome guy that John Llama was talking about?’