Green Tea for Gato, Redux

[Arroyos]

Green Tea for Gato, Redux


After the Winter Meetings, after Gato’s great dream was granted, after Taffy Slummings proudly announced the new name of his ball club, the Arroyos, after favorite son Danny Burke came home to Yuma, and after Slummings returned to the familiar faces in the Front Office, he and his right hand woman, Roberta Tipitina, decided to celebrate.

They had accomplished a great deal, they had ushered in a revolution in Yuma baseball, and they wanted to mark the occasion with a ritual.

“How about we drink a toast?” Slummings asked.

“Good idea,” Roberta answered.

“I have some very old Scotch I’ve been saving.”

Roberta gestured like she might throw up.

“You don’t like Scotch?”

“What I don’t like,” she said coyly, “is the ritual practices of the Good Old Boys’ Network. It begins with Scotch, proceeds to cigars, and ends up … well, you know better than I do where it ends up.”

Slummings coughed.

“What we need,” Roberta continued, “is a new ritual, one befitting the Arroyos, one that comes out of our shared experience.”

Slummings cleared his throat. “And what would that look like?”

Roberta held one finger of her right hand aloft to prevent Slummings from speaking. “When Little Gato charged into this office several months ago, demanding to be traded, Denise and I put together a serving of green tea for him. We wished we could have offered him a genuine Japanese tea service, but we couldn’t. Not then.”

Roberta paused. Slummings waited, wondering what this had to do with a celebration. Roberta pointed to the table in the center of the office, where space had been cleared among the charts and notepads that usually rested there.

“Since Mr. Gato’s little outburst,” Roberta continued, “we have procured the necessary elements for Japanese tea service.” Then she called into the back room, “Denise, could you bring out the new tea service to show Mr. Slummings.”

As if she’d been waiting for her cue, Denise entered carrying a tray with a tea pot, three tea cups and various items Slummings didn’t recognize.

“Now, Mr. Slummings,” Roberta said, “bow to Denise and she will begin the tea service, called Chadō.”

“Shadow?”

“Chaw-doe,” Roberta pronounced slowly. “But bow first, Slummings.”

The grizzled old man looked at his acting GM, then at the young woman holding the tray, and, reluctantly, dipped his head. Denise lowered the tray to the table and bowed to Slummings and Roberta before wiping the black ceramic pot with a cloth. Then she removed the lid of a small container and removed the powdered tea with a bamboo scoop.

“Matcha tea, Mr. Slummings,” Roberta explained. “It’s a powdered green tea, which Denise has scooped up with the bamboo chashaku.”

Slummings watched Denise sprinkle the tea powder into the black pot and begin stirring it.

“The whisk is called the chasen,” Roberta continued, “and the pot is the chawan.” Roberta took a deep breath of the aromatic steam coming off the hot water in the poet, then gestured for Slummings to take a sniff.

“Not like any tea I’ve ever smelled before,” he said.

“Exactly,” Roberta said. “A unique tea for a unique experience. Fitting for a celebration, don’t you think?”

“Well,” Slummings said, “I’ve never been much of a tea drinker. More a coffee man myself.”

“Coffee and Scotch, right?” Roberta said, teasing.

Slummings smiled as Denise lifted the chawan and began pouring into the three black cups. Then she offered a cup to Slummings.

“No sugar or milk?”

“Just try it,” Roberta said as Denise handed her a cup. She sipped and sighed. Slummings took a sip and nearly gagged.

“My god, that’s … uh, well, it’s very green!”

Roberta laughed, then gestured to Denise who headed back into the tiny kitchen off the main office space. A moment later she returned with a spoon and the sugar bowl.

“Atta girl,” Slummings said, quickly dumping a couple teaspoons of sugar into his tea.

Roberta tried not to let her face show how appalled she was. She waited for him to take another sip, and when he did, she asked, “So, how is it?”

“Drinkable now,” Slummings said and took another sip.

“Good,” Roberta said. “I propose a toast.” She lifted her tea cup. Denise lifted hers as well and Slummings held his out and lightly clinked the cups of the two women. “To Ken Hannahs,” Roberta said, “and the Florida Featherheads for making Little Gato a very happy ballplayer!”

“And for returning Danny Burke,” Slummings added.

“Amen,” Roberta said and they all drank the toast.

Slummings smacked his lips. “Is there more?”

Denise smiled, “Of course” and prepared another cup for Slummings. As he spooned sugar into his bowl, Roberta asked, “So … have you contacted the hospital yet?”

“Hospital?” Slummings sputtered, spraying tea over Roberta’s hands. Denise handed her the cloth used to wipe the chawan, while Slummings wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m feeling fit as a fiddle,” he protested, “no hospital needed.”

“Not for you, you old fool,” Roberta chided, “for Mayberry. You promised to meet with him.”

“I did?”

Roberta nodded, “Camarillo State Hospital.”

“I’m not going to visit any loony farm.”

“Then I’m not working for you.”

“What!” Slummings nearly dropped his tea cup. He stared at Roberta. She stared back. Denise discretely removed the cloth and carried the tea set back into the kitchen area.

“What’re you pulling?” Slummings said when the silence became too much to bear.

“Just telling you.”

“You’re quitting?”

“If you don’t meet with him, yes.”

Slummings studied Roberta’s face. “I can hire another GM, you know.”

She nodded but said nothing. Denise returned to gather up the tea cups, but just stood there when she noticed the way Roberta and Slummings were staring each other down. “You told him?” Denise finally asked Roberta.

“Yup.”

Denise looked at Slummings. “She means it, you know, she’ll quit if you don’t go. We all will.”

Slummings’ head spun to look at Denise. “What? You’ll all quit, over a goddamned visit to the nut house?”

“Over doing the right thing, that’s what.”

“The right thing,” Slummings said, “is to promote Roberta here to GM, full-time, permanent, none of this ‘acting’ crap.”

Denise looked at Roberta, who nodded to Denise to continue. “No,” Denise said, turning back toward Slummings, “the right thing—the first right thing—is to meet the GM and inform him if you’re going to remove him. Not do it behind his back, so to speak.”

Roberta suppressed a giggle.

Slummings spun to face her. “It’s not funny.”

“Not funny visiting the funny farm?” Roberta said, and then she could suppress her laughter no longer. Denise chuckled with her.

“What?” said Slummings, “have you all gone crazy? Am I already at the funny farm? First, you serve me this god awful drink—bring me the bottle sitting on my desk, would you?” He gestured to Denise but he was still looking at Roberta. Denise didn’t move. “Then you tell me the whole office will quit, and now you’re all laughing at me!” Slummings turned to look at Denise. “I asked for that bottle?”

“If you’re not going to Camarillo,” Denise said carefully, “I’m not doing your bidding.”

“Fine,” Slummings said, rising, “I’ll get it myself.” He started across the room toward the door to his private office, mumbling as he went. “Guess I’ll have to get used to doing things for myself, if you’re all gonna quit on me.”

“You couldn’t manage,” Roberta said. “You don’t know half of what we do in this office day to day, and you don’t want to.”

“I can hire a new staff,” Slummings said as he disappeared into his office.

“Who’s gonna train them?” Roberta called out. “Who’s gonna teach them about payroll and the budget and preparing draft lists and the weekly reports to the Commissioner?” When Slummings didn’t reappear from his office, Roberta shared a conspiratorial smile with Denise. “Do you know how to create a season schedule?” she shouted toward his office.

“Mr Slummings, sir,” Denise said as contritely as she could while smirking at Roberta, “do you know how to run the copy machine?”

Slummings stormed back into the main office carrying a bottle of his favorite Scotch. “I know how to run a damn copier,” he said dismissively.

“But do you know how to replace the toner?”

“Or clear a jam?” Roberta added.

“Or program a new user id?”

The two women waited for something to sink in, something heavy, something so large and incomprehensible that even Slummings, sipping on Scotch, couldn’t miss it. It took a moment, then they saw the bearded owner’s face fall.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. “I don’t even know the combination to the safe, do I? Let alone the fucking copier.” He looked up at his two employees. They tried not to smile too broadly. Suddenly he laughed. “Okay, okay, you win. Fuck it all, I’m going to Camarillo.”

Roberta and Denise applauded. Slummings swallowed a mouthful of Scotch and sighed. “So,” he said, “how do I get there?”

Roberta reached across the aisle and, from the top drawer in her desk, pulled a blue envelope with a travel agent’s logo printed on the outside.

“What’s this?” Slummings said as she handed it to him. “A ticket? You were so sure of yourselves you got a plane ticket?”

“Look again,” Roberta said.

He did.

“Amtrak? I’m going by fucking train? I’ve never been on a train. Does the train even go to a jerk water place like Camarillo?” Roberta nodded. “Holy mother of misery, I’m going to visit some whacko in the nuthouse and I’m going by train! I shoulda called your bluff.”

“Still can,” Roberta said. Then both she and Denise lifted their hands up as if they were being arrested. Slummings got it.

Oh, did Slummings get it. Coming and going.

[Borealis]

Finally catching up! And for a moment I thought I missed a memo about Yuma joining the Rising Sun...

[Arroyos]

Finally catching up! And for a moment I thought I missed a memo about Yuma joining the Rising Sun...

Nah, we ain't movin' but we're sippin' our tea!