A Rookie In The Baseball Team Is Too Good [EN]: Chapter 350

Baseball Team’s New Recruit Is Too Good-350

Baseball Team’s New Recruit Is Too Good 350

82 A Classy Meal (1)

That day marked the first game of the three-game series against the Toronto Blue Jays at Tropicana Field.

With the largest crowd of the season in attendance, the Tampa Bay Rays celebrated a satisfying victory.

The final score was 6-0.

Wow!!!

Wow!!!

Legendary pitcher Brett Evans, returning to his hometown for his 19th season, delivered a brilliant 6-inning scoreless pitching performance.

The Tampa Bay bullpen executed their roles flawlessly, steadily securing the win.

And the player who delivered the decisive blow, shattering the opponent’s hopes of a comeback, was none other than Vincent Hiyama.

Thwack!

Vincent Hiyama, the ‘two-way ace’ playing as the right fielder and batting second for the Tampa Bay Rays that day.

His home run in the bottom of the 8th inning, with a 3-0 lead and runners on first and second, became a major talking point for a slightly unusual reason.

-It’s huge! That ball is going way back!

The ball, launched perfectly off a weak slider from the Toronto pitcher, soared towards the center-right field of Tropicana Field.

Splash!

It landed right in the spot that had generated so much buzz and controversy. The home run ball had plunged into the ‘Rays Touch Tank’ at Tropicana Field.

-Oh, my! Our stingray friends must have gotten a surprise! A tank shot, a tank shot! Vincent Hiyama’s three-run tank shot home run!!!

The electric atmosphere at that moment defied description.

Toot- Toot-toot-

The foghorn blared throughout Tropicana Field, signaling the tank shot.

Clatter clatter clatter clatter!!

The fans erupted from their seats, cheering and shaking their cowbells like mad.

“…….”

Vincent Hiyama, in a display of quiet grace, rounded the bases and respectfully gestured towards Brett Evans with both hands.

He even stylishly dedicated the home run with a gesture that said, ‘This one’s for you.’

“Oh my, what should I do? I feel bad,” Jisub said, hearing these words after the game at a *maekju jip* [Korean beer house] as usual.

“Kim, it might be a bit tough today. We’re completely packed right now.”

These were the words of the owner of [Big Fergus’s Beerhouse], a sports bar located across from parking lot #6 of Tropicana Field.

“No seats?”

John Llama, standing next to Jisub, checked his watch.

“It’s well past midnight. Everyone who came to watch the baseball game should have gone home by now.”

That was usually the case.

By the time they finished the post-game cleanup and emerged, [Big Fergus’s Beerhouse] was typically empty.

In fact, the Future Strategy Planning Department frequented this place precisely because of this reliable ‘baton touch’ [smooth transition between crowds].

But tonight seemed to be an exception.

“That’s what I’m saying. Usually, everyone would have cleared out by now, but tonight, everyone’s glued to their seats. It doesn’t look like it’ll be over in an hour or two.”

Over the owner’s shoulder, who looked troubled, they could hear the ‘clatter clatter’ of cowbells.

The customers, riding high on the exhilarating victory and their love for the Tampa Bay Rays, were enthusiastically shaking their cowbells.

“I understand.”

Jisub, sensing the situation inside the bar, quietly stepped back.

“If there are no seats, there’s nothing we can do. We’ll come back tomorrow or… another time.”

“Okay, sorry! I’ll make sure to give you plenty of service next time you come… Oh, yes, yes!”

The owner hurried back inside, unable to even properly say goodbye amidst the flood of orders.

The Future Strategy Planning Department, suddenly without their cozy refuge, exchanged bewildered glances.

“This Cowbell Day event… it seems to have been much more successful than we anticipated?”

David Wilson commented.

“Even when a lot of fans came in the past, this area felt relatively quiet.”

“Oh, come on! Of course! The event was great, and the game was even better! People who came to Tropicana Field today will definitely come back at least once, right?”

John Llama, nodding with satisfaction, turned to Jisub.

“It’s great that the event was a success, but… Kim, what should we do?”

John Llama asked.

“It’s not like there aren’t any places open at this hour, but the problem is that they’ll probably have a similar atmosphere…”

“It’s a shame, but shouldn’t we just head home separately tonight? Even if we find a place, we won’t be able to talk comfortably surrounded by fans.”

“But shouldn’t we at least have a beer? We need to celebrate! It’s all thanks to us running around with Brett Evans’s friends since dawn.”

As he spoke, John Llama pulled out his phone to search for a nearby bar.

Jisub also craned his neck, looking around, when his phone rang.

“…Huh?”

The name displayed on the screen was none other than ‘Professor’ Brett Evans.

“Hello. Mr. Evans?”

When Jisub greeted him cheerfully, the legendary pitcher’s voice came through the speaker.

-Yes, Kim! Where are you right now?

He asked.

-I’m near our home stadium… If you’re free, how about grabbing a drink?

* * *

About 30 minutes later.

Jisub found himself inside a restaurant not far from Tropicana Field.

“…….”

“…….”

What to say?

It was quite a fancy establishment.

The interior design, the subtly playing music—everything about the place felt a bit out of place for a post-baseball outing.

He had assumed that even a Major League legend would dine in a place like this, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.

“Haha, this is my first time here too.”

When Jisub and his group sat down, Brett Evans made this confession.

“Nate… you remember him, right? The one who ran around Mirror Lake with you guys.”

“Nate? You mean Nate Howard?”

John Llama was more familiar with Brett Evans’s friends.

After the initial persuasion, Jisub had returned to his regular duties, but John Llama, with his generous spirit, had called them several times to confirm their attendance at the stadium.

“Ah, right? Mr. Howard mentioned he had a restaurant near Tropicana… I guess this is it?”

At John Llama’s words, Brett Evans slowly nodded.

“Yes, you can probably meet him if you go inside. He’s preparing snacks for you guys right now.”

“Oh, really? Mr. Howard promised to teach me how to grill a steak perfectly…”

Howard? Mr. Howard?!

The owner’s son, his eyes sparkling with excitement, disappeared into the restaurant.

Smiling wryly at the boy’s carefree enthusiasm, Brett Evans took out a wine glass and placed it in front of Jisub and David Wilson.

“I heard from my friends.”

He said as he poured the wine.

“They told me they were persuaded by you. That’s why they came to Tropicana Field today and attended the event at the Rays Touch Tank.”

Thank you.

Brett Evans, having filled their glasses, set down the bottle.

“I never imagined you’d care so much about me… Thank you so much. I think I was able to play well today because of you. The support from my old friends was more helpful than I thought.”

As he said this, the new starting pitcher for the Tampa Bay Rays proposed a toast.

Jisub lightly clinked glasses with him, but spoke in a measured tone.

“You don’t have to be so grateful. It’s our job to create an environment where players can focus on the game.”

Jisub continued.

“Rather than us doing anything special, I hope you understand that the Tampa Bay Rays value Mr. Evans that much.”

“Haha, as expected.”

Brett Evans smiled faintly.

“Nate was right. He said Kim’s eloquence is truly remarkable.”

“Oh, please.”

“I understand. I’m going to do my best too. The Tampa Bay Rays are my hometown team.”

Brett Evans showed his determination with a resolute look.

After a few words about the game that day, he looked at Jisub and carefully broached a subject.

“Can I ask you for one favor?”

“A favor?”

“Yes, it’s a request from my friends, but it’s also something I really want.”

Jisub straightened his posture.

Brett Evans’s eyes were very serious.

“Tell me. What is it?”

“Whenever it may be. It would be better if it’s while I’m still playing, but it doesn’t matter even after I retire. But…”

Just once.

Just once.

“The third floor upper deck of Tropicana Field… Could you let me watch a game there again?”

“The third floor upper deck?”

It was the area that the Tropicana bulldozer had demolished.

The very place that had reduced the attendance of Tropicana Field from over 40,000 to 20,000.

“It’s been closed for several years, but I heard that the stands are still there.”

He continued.

“Playing in the game today made me think of the old days even more. So I thought it would be nice to be able to watch a game there someday…”

“I see.”

To be honest, this was beyond Jisub’s authority.

The operation of the home stadium fell under the jurisdiction of the marketing department, and it was an issue that only an executive-level person could decide.

However, Jisub was now adept at quickly understanding how to navigate such situations.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not something I can answer.”

First, a general response.

“But if Mr. Evans achieves just one thing, I think I can at least bring it up to the president or the marketing director.”

“Just one thing, just one thing…”

Brett Evans was also well-versed in the inner workings of the baseball team.

Even though Jisub didn’t elaborate, he seemed to understand the implication.

“A championship. A World Series championship.”

When Jisub nodded without responding, Brett Evans boldly emptied the remaining wine in his glass.

“Something I wanted too… Okay. I’ll grit my teeth and work hard this season.”

He said as he put down his glass.

“For the Tampa Bay Rays’ and my first championship.”

* * *

Grit my teeth and do it.

Run to the end.

At that very moment, as the legend with 250 career major league wins was conveying his strong resolve to Jisub.

Brian Spon, the general manager of the Tampa Bay Rays, was visiting a mansion in the suburbs of St. Petersburg.

“Hmm, is that so? The public response was very positive?”

The person who expressed satisfaction after listening to the general manager’s report was Jeffrey Taylor.

He was the owner of the Tampa Bay Rays.

“You held a successful event at the right time. If we can maintain this momentum, we can gain an advantage in negotiations with the city government, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. The mayor also attended the game today… and seemed very pleased.”

“That’s a relief. Politicians can always change their minds…”

The owner, clicking his tongue and glancing at the documents piled on his desk, turned his attention to the general manager sitting on the sofa.

“Hey, what was his name again?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t recall his name. You know, that Asian employee who hangs out with John.”

“Ah, Kim? Are you referring to Kim?”

“Yeah, is that guy doing well these days? I haven’t heard from him since the last Hiyama incident.”

At the owner’s question, the general manager’s expression shifted slightly.

“He’s doing well. He’s doing a great job.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, in fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that Kim spearheaded this cowbell event.”

From the initial recruitment of Brett Evans to conceiving the cowbell idea and even persuading Brett Evans’s friends.

Brian Spon, the general manager, recounted Jisub’s accomplishments almost effusively.

“Haha, that guy is truly remarkable. He’s handling all of that.”

“Of course, it seems to be because he has excellent colleagues around him. David Wilson is also a reliable and dedicated worker, and John Llama too…”

“Okay, there’s no need to mention that useless guy’s story here.”

The owner, forcing a smile and waving his hand dismissively, began to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

“Anyway, this Kim guy seems to be quite valuable. Seeing as you’re constantly assigning him work.”

“Haha, yes, there’s a bit of that.”

Although he was smiling outwardly, Brian Spon, the general manager, was inwardly thinking, ‘Oops.’

Jeffrey Taylor, the owner, was known for heavily utilizing his subordinates.

The more capable they were, the more he relied on them.

This had led to Brian Spon’s appointment as general manager at a young age, but it also caused him some concern.

‘Did I make a mistake? If the owner starts assigning tasks directly to Kim, it will be too much for him…’

August was already halfway through.

The regular season was drawing to a close, and the postseason was approaching.

The owner’s interest in Jisub wasn’t unwelcome, but it was crucial to allow him to focus on the baseball team’s priorities.

“Mr. Chairman, about Kim…”

The general manager quickly attempted to voice his concerns, but the impatient owner seemed to have already made up his mind.

“Yeah, if it’s a guy you’re exploiting so much…”

And the story continues.

“I think it’s necessary for the club to ensure he gets some rest, even if it’s just for a day… What do you think?”

“Yes?”

The general manager blinked in surprise.

“Did you say rest? Not that you’re going to give him additional work?”

“Why would I give him more work? I know how much you overwork your subordinates.”

Jeffrey Taylor, the owner, crossed his arms and sighed.

“Anyway, come up with a suitable plan. You shouldn’t push people too hard. You have to offer them carrots occasionally.”

“No, you’ve only given me whips…”

“Hmm? What did you just say?”

When the owner glared at him, Brian Spon, the general manager, shook his head with a forced smile, saying, “No, it’s nothing.”

“I understand. I will find an appropriate time to give Kim a vacation.”

Kim is a lucky guy.

Jeffrey Taylor is personally ensuring he gets a vacation.

At that moment, Brian Spon, the general manager, couldn’t help but think that.