More Names?

Thwack! The sharp crack of the bat filled the indoor training facility.

"Hmm! I bet even a random elementary school kid playing baseball around here could hit better than that."

...Damn! Not this either? Well... how long had it been since he'd swung right-handed? No wonder it felt off from the moment he stepped into the batter's box. He'd known it was awkward after so long, but he hadn't expected this kind of feedback.

Yeah, this side was hopeless too. The thought flashed through his mind, and real anxiety gripped his chest—was he truly screwed?

Huh? But oddly, Kim Ho-seong sunbae was smiling. Not a mocking grin, but the expression of someone whose calculations had just checked out.

"...? But why are you smiling like that?"

"Not bad. That's why."

Kim Ho-seong sunbae checked a few things off on his tablet as he spoke.

"You're right that the righty swing feels awkward, but that means it's practically a blank slate. I told you—it feels like an elementary schooler's swing. It's not loaded with bad habits like your lefty one. Starting fresh on a clean canvas is a piece of cake."

His spirits, which had plummeted to rock bottom, lifted just a fraction at those words.

"Alright, now we've got a direction."

Sunbae laid out the plan ahead.

"The next two weeks are gonna be boring, honestly. We'll focus purely on stance—no full swings, just tee work. Week three, we'll move to the pitching machine for reps. By week four, there'll be other players training here—you'll spar with them one by one."

"Oh..."

"If we had a bit more time... you might even train or scrimmage with high school players, college guys, or hell, even minor leaguers if we're lucky. Spring camps are starting soon. But... the schedule's tight, so no guarantees."

He mentally tallied the dates like punching numbers into a calculator.

"So the longer I stay here, the better?"

"Of course... but your schedule matters. You can't stick around forever since you have to rejoin the team."

Hmm... So what was the play?

"I'll stay as long as I can somehow."

"Yeah, that's the move. But one thing you need to know: what we do here is just building the foundation. You'll finish it back in Korea, got it?"

"Yes."

"I'd love to keep coaching you, but time and money make it unrealistic. Still, in a month, you'll pick up everything you need right away. Let's start with the basics. Swing again."

Thwack!

"Hmm... it's gonna take some work. Still sloppy."

Meanwhile, March in Korea was unusually heated—and not just because of the weather.

The news that Major League Baseball would hold games in Seoul had the entire baseball world buzzing. When word spread that the LA Dodgers and San Diego Padres would play the opening series there, all hell broke loose.

The MLB commissioner's office had gone all out to accommodate Korea. Just hosting games here was huge news, but they'd scheduled a full four games. It wasn't a one-off event; it was a proper series.

The venue split was clever too. Korea had two domed stadiums, so they slotted two games at Eulji Crows' home field and two at Gocheok Turkeys Stadium.

To balance home and away on paper, the Dodgers would play exhibitions against the Crows, while the Padres got practice games and exhibitions at the Turkeys' dome—giving each team time to acclimate.

For the perpetually cash-strapped Turkeys, this was a godsend. Owning a dome alone had landed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them this blockbuster event, easing the club's finances.

With ticket sales, ads, sponsors, and side events, the short stint would rake in serious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠money.

Plus, Gocheok Turkeys had now sent their fourth MLB player with Jeong Yi-hoon, making them familiar territory for big-league teams. And the Padres roster included Kim Hyun-seong, a former Turkey who'd made the majors.

The Crows' stadium had better facilities, nearly sparking a venue dispute, but Kim Hyun-seong gave the Padres a perfect excuse to pick Gocheok—and smoothed everything over.

The Turkeys GM reviewed preparations, then called the KBO commissioner right away.

"Hu-seong. Do you even know what day it is? Staying in America over a month?"

"...Sorry."

2군 manager Oh Tae-sik scolded him.

"You gotta time it right. Team schedule matters. We're just heading out for exhibitions, and you're off training solo? Crazy bastard—talk to the club at least. You know how wiped you must've been midway?"

He shrugged slightly.

"Ahem, I... stayed longer to learn more."

The manager snorted.

"Aigoo, not 'cause your money ran out?"

Spot on. He froze, unable to hide his stiff expression.

"How'd you know exactly?"

"I know your salary, and rough daily spend in the States. Obvious."

Oh Tae-sik said casually.

"No debt's a win."

His face hardened more, and the manager narrowed his eyes.

"You didn't... take on debt, did you?"

He swallowed a sigh.

"Call it an investment in my future. Took a loan to extend a bit."

"Crazy bastard..."

Oh Tae-sik muttered, then clapped suddenly.

"Oh, right. You're in deep shit."

"Why? What happened?"

"Lee Kyu-yong. Retired from injury to coach, but after overseas training, no outfielders—so they signed him as a playing coach."

His eyes widened.

"What?"

"Sang-hyeon left, vets thin—they filled with him. 1군's patching holes from Sang-hyeon and Yi-hoon with Kyu-yong and Seok-hyun."

Fuck... The curse nearly slipped, but he composed himself.

"Eh, whatever. Yawwwn."

"You good for training? Look half-dead."

"Me? Oh... jet lag. Flew in last night, straight to practice."

"Sigh, crazy. Go train."

"Yes, sir."

He headed for outfield fungoes. After fielding a few, break time hit, and Oh Tae-sik nodded.

"Okay. Defense is solid. You practiced that too?"

"Yeah. Got chances to train with others, picked up tips."

"Explains the teamwork. Good enough for games. Now batting."

He grabbed a bat in the cages. The manager's face changed.

"What? Why the righty box?"

"Switched to righty."

"...Kim Ho-seong didn't mention that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠key bit. Fine! Hit some."

"Yes, sir."

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Oh Tae-sik watched silently, arms crossed, then muttered low.

"Keep going."

Then he dialed. It was the 1군 chief coach.