The Little League Pro
Armando, Chloe, Jacob, and I all enrolled at UC Davis, and specifically in the College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences, but our majors were all different.
Armando chose Agricultural and Resource Economics, Chloe went for Plant Sciences, and Jacob picked Agronomy. So, while we could attend the general college orientation together, we had to split up once the groups were divided by major.
As the short welcome address at the college orientation concluded, upperclassmen volunteering at the back waved their hands.
"Alright, let's break into groups by major!"
Small placards were already being held up in the hallway. One that stood out immediately was Viticulture & Enology. Following the student holding that sign, about a dozen freshmen of similar age gathered in a tight cluster.
The small lecture hall we were guided into had a map of vineyard blocks posted on one wall, and on the other, a photo of equipment that looked like miniature models of stainless steel tanks. On a long table at the front, tasting glasses and wine bottles were lined up neatly. The paper labels read 'Student Lot'. My brow furrowed slightly without me realizing it.
A professor in a gray suit, an advisor in a short-sleeved shirt, and two or three upperclassmen greeted us. I caught sight of someone I recognized and instinctively hid my face behind the student in front of me.
After finishing his self-introduction, the professor began writing a bold title on the whiteboard with a marker.
"......To explain the curriculum, freshmen take foundational courses in soil science and an introduction to viticulture and enology, based on general chemistry, biology, physics, and calculus. From your sophomore year, you'll move into viticulture, winemaking, and Sensory Evaluation. And..."
He wrote 'field & facility' on the board and looked up.
"The important reason you chose this school: you will see the practice vineyard and the pilot winery facility today, right now."
At those words, the students looked at each other with eyes full of anticipation. The fact that they wouldn't just be sitting and listening to lectures, but would actually be able to grow grapes and make wine, was what had these young students so excited.
A brief Q&A session followed, and the advisor went over the course registration system, when to declare a major, and where to check for research assistant postings.
At that moment, someone raised their hand high and asked.
"Do freshmen actually get to touch the winemaking process?"
The female student who had given me a hard time earlier raised one corner of her mouth and replied.
"Freshmen should probably start with cleaning, right?"
Light laughter rippled through the lecture hall. I chuckled as well, and just then, the professor picked up one of the wine bottles from the table and shook it.
"And today, we've prepared some wine made by the sophomores to welcome the freshmen. Has everyone tasted it? Ah, which group made this one?"
That very same female student raised her hand.
"It was our group."
"Oh, Sienna. You're the group leader, right?"
"That's correct."
The woman called Sienna smiled with satisfaction.
The professor offered a benevolent smile, poured the wine from the glass bottle into a cup, took a light sniff, and immediately brought it to his lips to taste. Sienna watched his mouth as he swirled the wine, her eyes fixed on him as if glued.
"Well made. Is this the Viognier variety? The core of the fruit aroma is steady, and the sweetness isn't excessive. Everyone, this is the skill level of your seniors. If you focus on your studies and pour your passion and dedication into it, you too can make wine that is... no, even better than this. Well done."
Sienna beamed and shrugged her shoulders at the praise. However, the professor, who had been patting her shoulder, leaned in close to her and whispered softly.
"Everything was good, but next time, you should pay a little more attention to temperature control."
In an instant, Sienna's face stiffened. She was grateful for the professor's consideration in not pointing out her shortcomings in front of the other students, but she was also shocked that the freshman's earlier remark hadn't just been a bluff.
"I will be careful."
"Yes, you're doing well. This is not bad at all. It's actually quite excellent."
The professor patted Sienna's shoulder, said a few more words, and disappeared. Now, only the upperclassmen remained in front of the winery.
A tall, fair-skinned man standing next to Sienna stepped forward. With his slender build and slightly curly hair, he looked like a typical white elite.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Matthew Higgins. I'm a junior, and from now on, I'll be teaching you the school's rules and the things you absolutely must know. Listen well..."
Every school has some ridiculous rules, so I listened, expecting some nonsense, but surprisingly, there really wasn't much to it. He gave advice like trying to be on time for class because being late disturbs other students, or that getting good grades leads to good jobs.
"Never fight, and if any trouble arises between people, come find me or the other seniors to seek a resolution..."
It was all very normal, really. And then,
"This here is Sienna Harrington. She's the daughter of the owner of Harrington Vineyards in Sonoma County. You'll be hearing that name a lot once you graduate and enter society. So, try to make a good impression from now on."
It turned out she was the daughter of a prestigious family. Harrington Vineyards was a massive farm—I'd heard of it a few times—reportedly spanning hundreds of acres in the northwest of Sonoma. That meant it was at least ten times the size of Redwood Vineyard.
But Sienna smirked and pointed at Matthew.
"He's no slouch either, you know? He's the son of the owner of Castello Vineyards in Napa Valley."
That guy, who looked like he belonged in Harry Potter, was no joke either. Castello Vineyards in northern Napa Valley is known for producing the best Cabernet Sauvignon. Of course, it was also a large estate of over a hundred acres.
There might be a few more large vineyards like these, but if we're limiting it to this school, those two are effectively the one-two punch of California wine families, aren't they?
"It was nice meeting you all. You can head back now."
"Can we have more wine?"
Someone raised their hand, but Matthew shook his head.
"Just one glass each. It's trouble if you get drunk. You can drink as much as you want in a year, so focus on your studies until then."
Isn't he just the model student?
I nodded, watching Matthew with a satisfied smile, and turned to head home when—
"Hey, you. Wait a second."
I tried to ignore her and keep walking, but someone grabbed my arm firmly. I turned back with the biggest smile I could muster, and found Sienna staring at me with intense eyes.
"How did you know the temperature was wrong the moment you tasted it?"
"......"
"Fine, I'll concede that you might feel there's a problem with the taste. But how could a mere freshman know that the cause was the temperature? My dad probably couldn't even tell that much."
That was obvious. Most people are just wine enthusiasts. Sienna's dad might be a bit different since he's a winery owner, but by my standards, he's just someone who knows a bit more than the average person.
But I am different. When I was at Cornell, I had handled quite a few wine-related projects for the USDA and the California Department of Food and Agriculture (CDFA).
From viticulture methods for climate change adaptation to the use of new yeast and MLF starters, enhancing flavor and color stability during fermentation, and water-saving vineyard management... Cornell had its own wine research institute, so I could conduct these projects while simultaneously working on various agricultural research tasks outside of wine.
Ultimately, the reason I drank so much wine before my regression wasn't because I enjoyed it, but because of my research. So, it was inevitable that I would be distinctly different from the average person.
"I make wine, too."
That was the best answer I could come up with after racking my brain.
"You make wine? Where's your winery? Sonoma? Napa?"
"Napa. Redwood Vineyard belongs to my family."
"Redwood?"
Sienna's brow furrowed, as if she didn't know it.
Even though it was 15 acres, it seemed she didn't even know it existed because it was a small farm from her perspective. It was six football fields wide, though...
"Yeah, it's a place like that..."
"Anyway, you're making wine? Then it must be better than what I made, right?"
"Um... I'm sorry, but we only acquired the farm last fall, so this coming autumn is our first harvest for proper wine. So, I don't have any wine."
Sienna's face twisted immediately. She was annoyed that someone who had harshly criticized her wine didn't even have any wine of their own to be evaluated.
"What is this, all talk and no action?"
"Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it..."
Perhaps because I nodded so readily, Sienna became even more curious.
"You said the problem with the wine was the temperature earlier. Then what exactly should have been done?"
"If you go home and watch how wine is made, you'll probably figure it out yourself without me saying anything."
"Tell me properly."
"The temperature was too high. For the details, go check at your winery. The way you set the initial temperature will be different from the method you used."
"Initial?"
Harrington's winery is famous, so they must be producing proper wine, and the initial fermentation temperature would have been set correctly based on their experience so far.
The problem with the wine she made was that the temperature rose too high during the early stages of fermentation, causing the yeast to become stressed and extract a lot of unnecessary astringency. If she learned the winemaking process of the Harrington winery properly, she would certainly be able to fix it.
"..."
"Well then..."
Sienna watched the Asian man walking away, stunned, before she grabbed the entire batch of wine she had made. Seeing that, Matthew asked.
"Leaving?"
"Yeah, I'll ask the others to help with the cleanup."
Sienna drove for over two hours with the wine, returning to her home in Healdsburg. She headed straight to her father, who was talking to someone in the living room.
"Dad, are you busy?"
Her father, Mark Harrington, excused himself to the person he was talking to and spoke in a somewhat stern voice.
"Could you show some courtesy when Dad is talking business?"
"...I'm sorry."
Seeing the small stainless steel container in his daughter's hand, Mark suddenly became curious and asked.
"What's that?"
"It's the wine I made. I tried making it at school, but..."
Realizing she wasn't just looking for her father for no reason, Mark gestured.
"Is that so? Bring it here."
Sienna brought the stainless steel container and a few wine glasses. The person who seemed to be her father's guest was also watching with great interest.
"Did you bring it to show off?"
"No. Someone said there was a problem with it, and I'm curious."
"Oh? Is that so? That's a good attitude."
Mark felt very satisfied with her attitude of not just wanting to show off, but discovering a problem and seeking advice from her father.
Mark, who drank the wine with his guest after his daughter poured it for them, savored the sensation of the wine swirling on his palate before setting the glass down.
"It's surprising."
The praise from her father's guest didn't reach her ears. Seeing her glance once and then immediately look at her father, Mark chuckled.
"I was satisfied with it, too."
"You were really satisfied?"
"What kind of evaluation did you get for this wine to make you act like this?"
"They said it was too astringent."
At those words, Mark's eyes widened.
"It does have that tendency, but it's not that severe. It's excellent for this level. What variety did you use?"
"Viognier."
"Sienna, this is excellent. Sometimes even wines sold on the market have this level of astringency."
"But our family's wine isn't like that, is it?"
"That... is true."
"Would you buy it if someone asked you to pay for it?"
"That would depend on the price, wouldn't it? It's perfectly fine as a daily wine."
Sienna bit her lip at the mention of the cheapest category, 'daily wine'. Mark asked his disappointed daughter.
"What on earth happened?"
Sienna hesitated before speaking.
"A freshman tasted it and said I set the initial temperature wrong. That's why it came out so astringent... but the professor at school pointed out the exact same thing."
"Really?"
"But that freshman is the son of the owner of Redwood Vineyard. Do you happen to know him?"
At this point, Mark's guest, a man, intervened.
"Redwood?"
"I haven't heard of it. Is it a farm you know?"
Pierce Morgan, who had been Mark's guest, wore a thin smile.
"I know it, sort of... but that kid is... not exactly just a student..."
Mark questioned Pierce's ambiguous words.
"Why? You mean he's not a student?"
In truth, Pierce wasn't entirely sure yet. He didn't know how to define that kid. However, at least one thing was certain.
"He's a friend who knows what farming is. And he's not just making small batches of wine like this; he's producing 10 tons of cherry wine as a commercial product. He's effectively a farm owner himself."
"So... he's like me?"
"Exactly. It's like having a pro player join a Little League game, isn't it?"
Mark turned to his daughter.
"It seems an interesting friend has entered your school as a freshman."