Shall We Make Up?
Everyone had gathered, and the meal was about to begin.
People started inhaling pork belly at an incredible speed.
I had no idea how Jack had arranged things, but the meat was outstanding. Thick cuts you’d only find at the better places even back in Korea. The restaurant staff kept grilling and slicing them, and the pieces vanished into mouths almost as fast as they hit the plates.
Sadly, I never got to see the blonde beauty in the one-piece dress dipping green peppers into soybean paste. Maybe she was conscious of the eyes around her; she just dabbed a little ssamjang on the meat and ate it that way.
That’s not how you eat it…
The men, once shown the proper method, figured it out and ate skillfully enough on their own.
“Oh! Ohhh! Oh! Kang! This is the real deal! Wow! Mmm…”
“…Eat first, then talk. Eat.”
Not quite as unhinged as Buxton, who looked like he’d fallen in love with the wraps, but still.
Greg was stuffing three or four pieces into his mouth at a time. Grandpa Manager seemed satisfied… Yua was eating with unusual enthusiasm… and Gordon Perry too.
“Eating well.”
This guy had clearly tried it before. Turns out quite a few of them had experience. Some even mentioned they occasionally hit Korean restaurants.
If they’d thrown back soju as well, it would’ve been perfect. But with a game tomorrow, our team had to hold off on the hard stuff. Beer and wine were chosen instead.
Even players who claim they don’t drink during the season usually sip a little beer like it’s a water substitute. Honestly, you could count on one hand the guys who refuse even a single mouthful. So everyone was casually nursing beers without any pressure. Most of the women went with wine.
How much time passed like that?
After about an hour, the sizzle of meat on the grills began to quiet down. If you’ve been stuffing yourself nonstop for a full hour, it’s about time to stop grilling.
From then on the atmosphere shifted. More tables were talking than eating. Honestly, there wasn’t much left for me to do—there hadn’t been much to begin with. I just wandered around with a beer glass, asking people if they’d eaten well.
That stretched on a little longer until Grandpa Manager stood up first. The coaching staff rose in a flurry and followed him out.
“That was a splendid meal tonight.”
He patted my shoulder, gave me a kind smile, and left. The coaches each tossed out a kind word of their own as they filed out of the restaurant behind him.
“Whew…”
Maybe it was because people were starting to head home, but I felt some of the tension drain out of me. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been a little wound up about this team dinner myself.
Next, Clubby and the rest of the staff took their leave. When I stepped out to see them off, they piled on thanks for the invitation so thick it bordered on theatrical. Another round of chaotic, over-the-top gratitude later, only the players and the women who’d come with them remained inside.
And then the second round began. After-party?
Someone started dancing to the soft music drifting through the restaurant. Soju appeared on a few tables. They’d probably been holding back because of the manager until now. When I asked why soju all of a sudden, they said it was the only strong stuff available…
Since things had already gone this far and they clearly wanted something harder, I decided to make one for them. No—better to borrow an expert’s hands.
“Hey! Ho-min!”
“Yeah?”
“Get over here and mix some.”
“…What? You serious?”
“Yeah. Just make it however you like.”
“…Crazy.”
He grumbled about knowing we had a game tomorrow, but his hands were already lining up beer glasses. He poured soju just right, covered the mouth of the beer, and gave it a light shake.
Sizzle.
“Oh! Wow!”
Ho-min’s little show drew curious looks from the surrounding tables; people started drifting over. And finally the foam-crowned somaek was ready.
“Huh? This is actually good!”
“This is great! Hey, Ho-min. More of this—no, how do you make it?”
The players took to it right away. Greg especially loved it. The response was better than expected, so Ho-min got fired up and started teaching the recipe on the spot. I figured I could leave that corner alone for a while.
Laughter was bubbling up from every direction. Anyway, people were having a good time. I wandered around joining in…
…and eventually found myself at Gordon Perry’s table. Honestly, I’d only stopped by late because I couldn’t keep avoiding it forever.
But then—
“Can we talk somewhere private for a minute?”
Unexpectedly, Gordon Perry spoke first. And he wanted to talk alone.
“…You’re not about to drag me somewhere quiet and do something, are you?”
“Huh? Puhah! Hahahaha.”
This was the first time I’d ever seen the man laugh like that in front of me. Was it the alcohol? He slapped the table, cracked up, then shrugged.
What? Is he actually going to haul me off and beat me up?
“Right now?”
“Hmm… Is there a quiet spot?”
“Give me a second…”
I asked one of the staff; they said there was a private room in the back where we could talk quietly. Then I needed to leave this place in trustworthy hands for a bit…
“Hey, Ho-min… Sigh…”
Looking at Ho-min—who’d started by making somaek and then drunk it right along with everyone until the reins completely slipped—I could only sigh. I wanted to hand the place off to someone…
If the talk with Gordon Perry was going to be short, it wouldn’t matter. But if it were short, would he have asked for a quiet room? He clearly had something important to say, which meant it wouldn’t wrap up quickly. Naturally I’d leave things with Han Song-yi, but I wanted one more person covering for me. That’s when I spotted Eun-hyung.
I briefly explained why I needed to step away. Eun-hyung looked at me with a strange expression—almost like he found the whole thing amusing. The kind of face that says he already knows something.
Anyway, he told me not to worry and waved me off.
Rattle.
I opened the sliding door and stepped inside. Gordon Perry was sitting alone, nursing a beer. I closed the door, sat across from him, and he filled a fresh glass and set it in front of me.
I picked it up, turned my head slightly, took a sip, and set it down. Gordon Perry’s eyes widened a fraction.
“Ah…”
You idiot.
Drinking in front of someone older than me while turning my head had become pure muscle memory. It wasn’t even a conscious decision—my body just moved. Explaining the whole cultural thing in detail felt too awkward, so I set the glass down like nothing had happened. But Gordon Perry’s expression had shifted; it looked a little looser somehow.
He took another sip. I sipped too. Another. I matched him. Before I knew it the glass was nearly empty.
What’s with this guy? Did he call me here just to drink beer?
“Um…”
Tired of waiting, I opened my mouth to ask first. Gordon Perry cut me off.
“Are you still mad at me?”
What the hell is this now…
“Our first meeting wasn’t exactly pleasant, was it.”
That felt like an understatement. We’d cursed each other out and there had even been injuries—though I hadn’t been the one who got hurt.
“Nigga… Hehehe. First time I’ve ever heard that in my life.”
“……”
Honestly, I’d just blurted out whatever came to mind. Later I learned what you’re supposed to say to white guys, but it never really stuck. “Nigga,” though… that one sits easy on the tongue. Maybe from watching too many movies and shows.
Gordon Perry drank again. Seeing the empty glass, I automatically reached for the bottle with both hands—
Ah, shit. Being polite again.
I quickly dropped one hand and filled his glass like it was nothing. But was this even the right way? Do these guys just pour for themselves? He’d filled mine earlier, so… My body kept reacting first.
“I’ll ask again. Are you still mad at me?”
He put it so bluntly that the answer wouldn’t come out right away.
“I see.”
No. Why the rush? If you’re going to answer yourself, why bother asking?
“No. It’s not that.”
“…Really?”
“Honestly, I was pissed back then. Hearing ‘yellow’ on day one.”
“Oh! That’s not it! When you said that, I couldn’t answer right away and everything snowballed—but I never said that word!”
“……”
What?
It didn’t feel like he was making excuses after the fact. Gordon Perry’s face was pure indignation.
He didn’t say it? Then did I mishear?
I was sure I’d heard “yellow.” That’s why I’d fired right back… Thinking about it, my English had been pretty rough then. Still is, but back then it was even worse…
Uh… so how does this work? Was I the one who screwed up?
My head started spinning.
But then—
“I’ll apologize for that day. I can see how it might’ve left a bad taste.”
“…Huh? Ah—no, I didn’t exactly handle it well either…”
If he was going to apologize first like this…
“To be honest, that rude first greeting… was a little intentional.”
“You deliberately picked a fight? Rookie taming for the big-money new guy, something like that?”
“Hmm… I can’t exactly say no.”
I see.
But my mood was… this was supposed to be an apology, right? A little too honest.
“Do you know what happened with our team a few years back?”
“Huh? If you put it that way, not really…”
“There was an incident where a few players completely tore the clubhouse apart.”
“……”
Does Ho-min know about this? I sure as hell don’t.
“Well… not really…”
“That so? Let me give you the short version…”
Gordon Perry launched into a story that was anything but short. A few years earlier, some new players had joined the roster and the problems that followed. He explained it carefully, slowly, using simple words so I wouldn’t miss anything. Thanks to that, I understood almost every word.
When the old story finally ended—
“So… after that, whenever new guys come in, you set the tone right away?”
“Rookies coming up from the minors for the first time don’t need it.”
That made sense. No one who just clawed their way out of the minors is going to act cocky on day one. But my situation was different—a rookie pulling a bigger paycheck than half the guys already here.
“Among those kinds of rookies, sometimes… yeah. You get the cocky ones.”
That was why Gordon Perry had come out aggressive from the start—to lock down the discipline early. In short, he never wanted a repeat of the mess those earlier newcomers had caused, so he hit every new high-profile rookie hard right out of the gate.
With the weight of the name Gordon Perry behind it, the method had always worked… until a foul-tempered rookie from Korea charged straight at him.
“Honestly, I thought it’d be easy. You said you chose our team because of me, after all. Heh.”
“…That’s true. I looked at a few teams and picked the Red Sox because of you.”
“And yet you still came at me like that. Hehehe.”
“Fans are fans. Getting pissed is getting pissed.”
“Hahaha.”
The heavy air between us had loosened.
“Will you accept the apology?”
“…I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory either, so whatever.”
Gordon Perry had cast Shall we make up? and I’d answered with a shrug of Sure, I guess.
“I’d like you to keep the dedicated catcher arrangement as is.”
“Huh?”
“Since Eric became your personal catcher, he’s improved a lot. Still has some rough edges, but at this level he’s more than pulling his weight.”
“Eric’s… doing fine.”
Honestly, comparing him to Gordon Perry felt weird, but after working with him I knew exactly how good the catcher sitting across from me really was.
“Of course, let’s work together sometimes too.”
“Huh? Uh… sure.”
We kept talking about this and that after that, finishing every last beer we’d brought into the room before we finally stood up.
Just as I was about to leave, a thought hit me and I tossed out one more question.
“But then why with Eun-hyung…”
It was pure idle curiosity. While sorting through everything Gordon Perry had just told me, his relationship with Eun-hyung still didn’t quite add up.
A smile suddenly spread across Gordon Perry’s face—not the happy kind, more like the look of someone about to pull a fun little prank. Almost identical to the expression Eun-hyung had worn earlier when I said I was going to talk with Gordon.
What the hell is this now?
I waited for an answer, but Gordon Perry just gave my shoulder a couple of light pats and walked out of the room.
Hey, what the hell!
What’s with you two? What’s going on here?
Why is this team so damn complicated?