Wrapping Camp 1
2022 Gocheok Turkeys' wrapping camp unfolded in a bitterly heavy atmosphere. The team had made it to the Korean Series but finished as runners-up. Second place always stung the worst. The entire camp dragged on under that oppressive mood. Still, with the new season looming, the training and evaluations proceeded with grim seriousness.
Crack! "That's a grounder too. To second!"
The batting coach's sharp voice cut through from beside the cage. Damn it... I can't keep messing up like this... During the wrapping camp batting evaluation, I gripped the bat tightly, cold sweat beading on my skin. Every pitch I swung at traced a lousy trajectory.
"All ground balls. In a real game, that'd be double plays. Can't you hit it right?"
His cold critique stung my ears. I clenched my teeth and waited for the next pitch. Swung again, but this one rolled toward shortstop.
"Tsk tsk tsk... Grounder to short. Total mess."
The coach's tongue-clicking followed. My body stiffened even more. I kept getting the bat on fastballs, but this was my limit. Tick! This one rolled in front of third.
"Grounder to third. You hitting fungoes? I could stick you out there and run infield drills for the guys. Hitting grounders everywhere."
I could hear the other players around me snickering. Shit... My face burned. I tried to refocus, but my fingertips trembled faintly. The next pitch rolled toward first.
"Grounder to first! Aigoo..." Tick! "Whoa... This one's right back to the pitcher. Man, you only hit infield grounders. Even the minors will be tough like this."
The coach's jabs grew sharper with each one. Maybe it'd be better if he just yelled outright. But this mocking tone shook my pride to its core. I readjusted my grip on the bat, breathing hard.
"Off-speed!"
The pitcher nodded and threw a breaking ball. I desperately timed my swing. Felt like solid contact—but nope, same result. Another infield grounder, rolling toward short. My mind went blank watching it.
"Aigoo, even off-speed's a grounder. Kid, you're killing me. Rolls the same every time. How do you hit 'em so consistently to the infield? The other team's fielders are gonna thank you for the live reps."
The coach's tone shifted to exasperated sighs. I sank deeper into despair. The bat felt like lead, my body rigid. When my turn ended, I set the bat down and stepped out of the cage. My face was slick with cold sweat. The other players' stares burned.
Ah... I'm screwed. Self-loathing welled up from deep inside.
Kim Young-ho, the Gocheok Turkeys' first-team manager, strolled slowly through the training field, closely observing the rookies and young players grinding through camp. Chief Coach Gu Sang-cheol moved faster, jotting notes in his pad and gathering reports on players' skills from the other coaches.
A moment later, Kim Young-ho turned and asked, "Chief, who's the standout rookie so far?"
Gu Sang-cheol answered without hesitation. "Obviously Lee Tae-sin, our first-round pick. His stuff is on another level. Fastball has real pop, and the breaking pitches have filthy break. Honestly, he's 1st-team bullpen-ready right now. Not just setup—could slot into the closer's role with that velocity."
Kim Young-ho cracked a subtle smile. First-round picks were different, just as he'd thought. The organization had nailed it drafting him. Amid the camp's gloom, Lee Tae-sin's pitching was a ray of hope.
Soon, the manager asked again. "And... who's the weakest link?"
The chief coach hesitated briefly before being straight. "For now... Kim Hu-seong."
The manager nodded, as if expecting it. "Kim Hu-seong? Ah... 11th-round guy."
"Yes."
"So, what's lacking?"
Gu Sang-cheol sighed. "Batting coach calls it the worst. Short version: double-play machine. No mid-to-long flies, all infield grounders. High school league hitter batting .100, so... yeah."
Kim Young-ho crossed his arms, lost in thought for a beat. His nod carried a tinge of resignation. He wasn't expecting miracles from an 11th-rounder.
"Can't be helped. Good talent's hard to find. What about the others? Any more standouts?"
"The third-round infielder we..."
Batting practice wrapped, and I slunk out of the cage with my head down. Images of my ground-ball factory swing looped in my head; the sweat wouldn't dry.
"Kim Hu-seong."
The defense coach called from afar. My heart dropped. What critique now...? I approached cautiously. He held my profile and asked, "Kim Hu-seong. You really handle all these positions like it says?"
My profile, verified by the chief coach, listed defensive positions crammed in.
I caught my breath. "Yes, sir. Did it all in high school. Everything but pitcher and catcher."
He narrowed his eyes. "But lots of sub appearances logged. Main spot in real games?"
"Center and short the most. Most comfortable there."
He crossed his arms and nodded. "Hm... Center and short. Means you can field. Got it. We'll rotate you through positions mid-session today—be ready. Glove?"
"I carry five of my own."
"Five? Funny guy. Alright, go prep for defense drills."
His words lightened my mood a bit. Thanks, Coach Kang Dae-man from Botong High. You drilled defense like a demon and it sucked, but now it makes me look versatile. Appreciate it, you bastard. At least defense had merit.
I grabbed my gloves and joined in.
"Kim Hu-seong, Seo Ji-hoon, Gwon Tae-hyeon... outfield."
Started with outfield fly balls. A high pop soared overhead; I shifted quick. Tons of practice made judging trajectories easy. Tracked it, planted, snagged it calmly chest-high.
"Hm... Not bad."
A few more repeats—no drops, no panic. But inside: Mess up here, and it's over. Focus sharpened beyond normal.
After a few outfield catches, called to the infield. "Alright, Kim Hu-seong to infield!"
"Yes, sir."
Headed to second base. Mostly played short, but infield guys who can handle SS do 2B/3B easy.
"Here we go!" Thwack! Ball came left. Easy. Read the path, low stance, glove out. Snatched it, whipped to first.
Pop! Clean into the mitt. 2B throws were comfy.
Handles the easy ones smooth. Good start. Ramp it up.
Thud! Next one deep right, rolling fast. No slide needed. Backhand scoop, throw to first.
Backhand right away? Cocky play... but fluid.
Varied grounders poured in: bouncing left-right, rollers, hoppers. Tense every play, even slid once. No errors.
"Last one!"
"Yes!" Thwack! Hard liner overhead. Line drive?! Instinct jump.
Pop! "Whoa..."
"Hm, solid enough. Profile checks out. Defense basics are there."
The coach uncrossed his arms with a smile. Whew... Batting bombed, but defense showed something?