USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
Paging Astros front office. Yes it’s kind of a cuck move if you bring Bauer in based on his history of poo-poo-ing the Astros. But it also exposes him as a huge hypocrite if he doesn’t flat out refuse to sign if they hit him up
Fuck it, why not?
Hypothetical: You’re the owner of an MLB team. I offer to take $0 salary and sign a minor league contract and go to Low A.
If the “he sucks now” crowd is right and I get lit up, you cut me, lose $0 and there’s no risk to the big league club.
If the “clubhouse cancer” crowd is right, you see it immediately at Low A and cut me. You lose $0 and there’s no risk to the big league club.
If there’s massive negative PR, which we already know there won’t be, you just cut me and move on. The story is dead in a couple days, you lose $0, and there’s no risk to the big league club.
But, assuming none of those things happen, which they obviously wouldn’t, if you like what you see, you can promote me to AA and re evaluate me there. Then AAA. Then the big leagues. If I earn it, which you’d be 100% in control of deciding. If you don’t think I’m good enough, you lose $0 and there’s no risk to the big league club.
You could take away my “antics”. You could take away my social media. You could ask anything of me. If I don’t comply, you cut me, lose $0, and there’s no risk to the big league club.
What logical reason is there to not do this? At worst, you cut me and there’s no risk to the big league club. At best, you get a Cy Young winner for $0 who you know can still pitch and could help the big league team if and when you see fit.