Chapter One: The Home Run That Hadn't Happened

“Tell them yourself. And hurry. Bottom of the seventh is starting.” The Japanese sponsors did not truly care about sake. They merely expected someone to bow when they complained. Cheng explained in polished Tokyo Japanese and apologized for a rule he had not made. Their local host laughed in Mandarin. “That's a translator for you. Understands everything, decides nothing.” Cheng smiled with them. A temp worker's dignity, converted to an hourly rate, cost less than a stadium beer. As he turned away, Japanese television commentary filled his headset. The corridor speakers carried the Mandarin broadcast. The languages overlapped by half a beat. “The Falcons bring in left-hander Sato to face cleanup hitter Luo Zheng,” said the Mandarin commentator.