This Is My Path
The game ended just like that. Final score: 2-1. The day wrapped up with a Gocheok Turkeys victory. As the players in the dugout began packing up, the fitness trainer called me over to chat in the corner.
"Your stats were the best today, right? The analytics team said you shattered all your records."
I nodded, wiping my neck with a sweat-soaked towel. The trainer nodded back and continued.
"Looks like your balance is finally coming together."
"Balance?"
I asked, and he replied immediately.
"Yeah. Weren't you at 77kg today?"
I confirmed it, and the fitness trainer paused thoughtfully before saying,
"Maybe that's the ideal weight for you."
But he quickly frowned.
"Of course, by pro baseball standards, 77kg is pretty light for your height. You're a contact hitter who doesn't rely on power, so it might not matter..."
Sorry, "tukdak"?
"Sigh... but seeing you fly around out there today... maybe this is the answer. It's tricky, really tricky."
I mulled it over and shared my honest thoughts.
But 77kg felt heavy... My actual weight was probably closer to 70kg now. If I kept using the weighted vest, they'd weigh me eventually. It'd come out.
"I don't think 77kg is my ideal weight."
"What?"
The trainer's eyebrow arched slightly. I pressed on.
"I emptied my stomach a few times during the game. Did you notice me rushing to the bathroom?"
"Hmm... Yeah, I heard you bolted once."
"Considering that and the recent scale issues, I think 74-75kg is more like my sweet spot."
The fitness trainer looked a bit flustered for a second, then responded.
"Hah, that's too low."
But after pondering, he nodded realistically.
"Alright... let's maintain that for now. No more pushing it."
His tone suddenly shifted.
"And when I say rest, actually rest. Your good performance this time might be because you finally did."
"Got it."
But before I could finish, he gave a wry smile.
"Don't lie. You're gonna overtrain again, aren't you?"
I had nothing to say.
"You're exactly the type Oh Tae-sik, the 2G manager, would love. Old-school coaches eat that up. Hardworking players who grind their bodies for results. And yeah, it worked for you this time, but it's not always the answer."
He patted my shoulder lightly.
"Sure, your effort paid off. But remember this."
He gestured around.
"Every coach here in 1G went to the States to learn the latest trends and techniques."
He paused, then added, looking at me.
"Including me."
His voice was calm but firm.
"Yeah, we're a cash-strapped team. Facilities and scale? We lag. But our knowledge and direction? We're as cutting-edge as it gets. That's why we keep sending talent to the majors."
Finally, he said clearly,
"So don't just bulldoze with your own ideas. Listen to us a bit."
I nodded.
"Got it."
* * *
But vows are one thing—reality another. I woke up way too early. The sun wasn't even fully up. My body ached, but lying still felt worse.
Hwang Do-yoon sunbae, tossing in the next bed, clicked his tongue at me.
"Man, you're relentless. Heading out already?"
I nodded.
"Yeah. Feels like I need a light run."
He didn't try to stop me—just rolled over like it was routine. Even on road trips, habits die hard.
Outside, the air hung heavy and damp. Not quite hot yet, but sticky.
"Super humid today..."
I started with stretches: hamstrings, calves, back, shoulders. Then jogging—light at first, building rhythm. Glancing at my watch, 30 minutes had flown by. Breathing hard, but no urge to stop.
By the time I got back to the dorm, I was soaked. Showered, rested a bit, then headed out for team practice.
Looking up, the sky was much darker than morning. Low clouds.
Hwang Do-yoon sunbae tossed out casually,
"Whoa, rain's coming today?"
I shot back,
"Oh, nice. It'll cool things down."
He shook his head.
"Nah, not great. Rain's late, and pre-rain humidity is the worst heat."
. . .
And he was right. Top of the first, stepping to the plate, my body felt off from yesterday.
"Hoo..."
The muggy heat clung. Bat felt late; couldn't work the count. Struck out swinging. Sighed long and headed back to the dugout.
Bottom of the first, trouble in the field. Routine grounder—popped out of the glove. Runners piled up; we gave up 2.
"..."
Why now?
Shook it off, but it worsened. Bottom of the second, ball came my way again. Footwork a beat slow; throw sailed. Another error. Another run.
Board showed 3 runs—all from my mistakes.
I caught my breath, head shaking. Vision blurry, stomach churning. Dugout felt miles away.
The chief coach grabbed me.
"Hey, Kim Hu-seong, you okay?"
I hesitated, then admitted,
"Not sure. Condition's tanking—nauseous, dizzy."
His face changed.
"Yeah, you're out. Heat exhaustion. Sub time."
Heat?
"Manager! We gotta sub Kim Hu-seong."
"Sub?"
"Yeah. Full-on heat stroke."
"Damn. Yeah, those errors didn't add up."
Just like that, I was pulled. Team trainer helped me to the locker room.
"Uh... rain's starting."
As I entered, drops began falling from the sky.
* * *
Rain picked up in the third—torrential by the fourth. Puddles formed. Umpires and staff scrambled; players called in. Game headed for rainout.
"Ugh, water in the dugout here."
"Isn't this a newer park?"
"They renovated, but still floods."
Gocheok Turkeys players grumbled.
"This is why we need a dome."
"Haha, they always roast our fake stadium."
"Yeah, real ones like Eulji Crows' are best. But ours ain't bad."
"Not bad—and rainouts mean rest, right?"
"True."
While they chatted, I lay in the cool indoors. Condition improving, head clearer.
"Hey, Kim Hu-seong, you good?"
Son Tae-ho sunbae walked over.
"Yeah, better."
He eyed me, nodded.
"Honestly? Thought you'd collapse today."
I grinned awkwardly.
"Heard you were out training at dawn? Crazy bastard."
Then casually,
"Once you're straight, drinks. With Do-yoon, Min-seok too."
I blinked.
"Game...?"
He shook his head.
"Look at that rain. No joke—rainout."
"Rain? Oh, yeah, heard..."
"Forecast says through tomorrow. Rare break."
I nodded.
"Cool."
I sprawled out, feeling recovery creep in.
Evening, we hit a Daegu meat spot Son Tae-ho swore by. Table: me, Gu Min-seok sunbae, Hwang Do-yoon sunbae, Son Tae-ho sunbae.
Meat arrived; I grabbed tongs naturally.
Son Tae-ho sunbae shut it down.
"No, Min-seok. You grill. He does it best—no. And rookies like you shouldn't waste good meat."
"Yes, sir..."
Gu Min-seok sunbae laughed in disbelief, flipping meat.
Son Tae-ho eyed me.
"Hey, Hu-seong."
"Yeah?"
"Hate to say it... but learn from Do-yoon."
Learn from Do-yoon hyung?
Oh, I got it.
Gu Min-seok sunbae reacted mid-grill.
"What? That's your advice?"
Thought a sec, nodded slightly.
"Context makes sense, I guess."
Hwang Do-yoon sunbae nodded lazily.
"Mm-hmm. Yeah, he should copy me."
I zoned out on their talk. What? I'd sat dugout for 3 years high school. Pro was brutal; effort made me starter.
Son Tae-ho summed up.
"Do-yoon, you learn from him too."
Telling Hwang Do-yoon sunbae to copy me.
"Sigh, Min-seok's level is ideal. But you two—push it. Do-yoon does too little."
To me:
"Kim Hu-seong, you do too much."
Paused, concluded.
"So copy each other. Please. Finish the season strong."
"Yes~ sir."
"Yep."
Son Tae-ho sighed at us, eyed Gu Min-seok.
"They ain't changing, huh?"
"Probably not."
Yeah, probably.
Countless practices got me here. I won't be a dugout sitter anymore.
This is my path.
Still... gotta quit post-game training. Rest does boost condition, for sure.