I Promise Once Again
The next day arrived, and once all the test results had been reviewed, the attending physician entered the hospital room. He glanced over the chart one more time before looking at me and speaking slowly.
"Your knee isn't as serious as we feared. There's no major structural tear, and it won't make playing professionally impossible."
"That's a relief, then?"
The doctor hesitated for a moment before saying he'd be straightforward.
"But... ahem. There's damage to the patellar tendon and a minor tear in the medial meniscus, so you might not be able to play like you used to."
"..."
"You'll definitely notice a difference in initial acceleration and quick changes of direction."
"What if I get surgery...?"
I trailed off, and the doctor explained the surgery option.
"Surgery could improve things, but I can't guarantee a dramatic recovery. And... if you opt for surgery, recovery would take about three months, and with rehab, four to five months total."
Four to five months? That meant I'd barely make it back for the season start. Of course... if my performance dropped, I probably wouldn't see the first team anyway...
"What if I don't get surgery?"
"Without surgery, you'd rest for about a month before starting rehab. A week of hospitalization, then three weeks of outpatient treatment and rehab combined."
I fell silent for a moment, staring out the window.
Haa...
"I'll need to think about it some more. I want to hear what others think too."
The doctor nodded understandingly and asked if he could check back in two days for my decision, since we'd need to schedule things. I said I'd have an answer by then, and the conversation ended quietly.
During my week in the hospital room, I watched every game. The Turkeys beat the Gwangju Pigeons to advance to the wild card playoffs but lost to the third-place Jamsil Falcons, finishing fourth in the regular season—and overall—for the 2023 season.
Regret and guilt mixed in my chest.
"Sir, time to prepare for discharge."
"Yeah. I saw it all. This is how it'll go."
I quietly packed up. In the meantime, I'd chatted with the seniors. Their common take was that knee injuries rarely fully recover to pre-injury form even with surgery. Plus, once you go under the knife, your whole body feels weaker afterward, so avoid it if possible.
I knew if my speed dropped, baseball was basically over for me. So I wanted surgery if it boosted recovery odds even a little. But hearing the seniors out helped me decide: recover without it.
On the drive home, I stared blankly out the window until a strange feeling washed over me.
"Son, we're home. Son... you okay?"
No answer, so Mom checked again.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
I replied curtly but couldn't say more. I headed straight to my room and flopped onto the bed.
"Haa..."
Staring at the ceiling, I let out a small sigh without realizing it.
One thought looped in my head: What if my speed really slows down? What then?
I'm a player with clear stats. Out of the five key tools for fielders, two are elite. Defense and baserunning are A-grade, shoulder B-grade, power near F, hitting D at best. The cutoff play volume bumps hitting to maybe C.
Even with C hitting, my .300 average comes purely from speed. Lose that, and I'm...
Dark thoughts started piling up.
Bzzzzt.
Right then, my phone vibrated. I checked it—tons of notifications. From Seo Ha-yoon, now fully a friend; school buddies; Turkeys teammates and seniors asking if I was okay.
Seeing the support lifted my mood a bit.
Whew, yeah. It might not slow me down that much. Diligent rehab could fix it.
I shifted to positive thoughts, mind-controlling myself.
Three weeks passed, hitting mid-November. Outpatient treatment had healed me enough to walk normally. Fall ball wrapped up in the meantime.
The 2023 champs: Eulji Crows. The regular-season leaders dominated the Korea Series too, holding first. Their first title in 21 years—watching their vibe, I envied them.
With everything done, the player awards ceremony rolled around. Stolen base king, runs scored king, rookie of the year on the line—I suited up sharp and took my seat in the holding area.
Arriving at the hotel venue, photos flashed everywhere, fans occasionally chatting me up.
"Player Kim Hu-seong, you okay?"
A reporter. Camera shutters clicked nonstop, stinging my eyes.
"Getting treatment now, and look—I can walk fine."
"That's great news."
Not fully recovered, of course. But saying it eased my mind a touch.
Inside the ceremony hall, players started approaching.
"Whoa, Kim Hu-seong's killing it. Eleventh-round rookie snagging all these awards?"
Eulji Crows left fielder Ryu Sung-jae.
"At least two for sure. Runs scored and stolen bases."
"Damn, jealous."
"Nah, just lucky."
As the first-place team's event, tons of Crows players around—more came over. Their shortstop Go Ju-seok clapped my shoulder.
"Man, you should've come to our team. Our skipper would've loved you."
"Haha, thanks."
Joking praise, but it stung oddly.
Haa... maybe I can't anymore...
I thanked him shortly; conversation ended. Ceremony was about to start.
Awards kicked off with second-team league honors, then first-team pitchers. My name came up.
"Stolen base king and runs scored king: Gocheok Turkeys' Kim Hu-seong."
I grabbed two trophies back-to-back for stolen bases and runs.
Whoa, six million won combined—sweet!
On stage at the mic, I kept it brief.
"Thanks for the great award. I'll play even better next season."
Short and steady, then off. Why not longer? Big ones later.
Awards continued to defensive honors—a new award based purely on defensive metrics.
"Our Golden Glove's basically hitting-focused, so they made this, right?"
"Pretty much."
I said to senior Kim Han-seong beside me. He'd won Golden Glove and could snag this too as second baseman.
"Wait, I didn't play enough games, right? Third to second—short on innings?"
Kim Han-seong tilted his head, then shook it.
"Nah. Multi-position? They combine and pick your most-played spot."
Oh right—senior switched positions too...
He took second base defensive award first; then mine.
I got third base defensive award.
Heard Golden Glove'd be tough with Crows' pull, but recognition here felt good.
Depending on my knee, maybe I couldn't show that defense anymore—but at least I got it this season.
Again, short speech and done.
And... after all defensive awards, 2023 rookie of the year candidates dropped.
Mostly pitchers listed. Lone hitter. Others all pre-third round picks, any year...
"The 2023 rookie of the year is..."
Silence hung.
"Gocheok Turkeys' Kim Hu-seong!"
Eleventh-round me took rookie of the year.
Whew...
I walked onstage slowly. Players everywhere. Cameras on me.
Whew... Deep breath at the mic.
"Uh... I was an eleventh-round pick last year. Might not have gone pro, but luckily Gocheok Turkeys took me. Got me here. And... I promised fans my best always—and keeping that got me this award."
I faced the front camera.
"Lots worrying about me... but I'm recovering fast. Next time, not rookie of the year—MVP contender, better play. I promise once again."
Yeah—this was the best I could do now. Self-suggestion: I can rise again.