Crush the Rookie
The youngest cheerleader of the Gocheok Turkeys, Seo Ha-yoon, was swamped during the away game. With fewer cheerleaders than usual, there was twice as much work to do. What the staff might handle at home games fell to the rookie on the road.
Seo Ha-yoon flung open the lounge door, cracked the window, and cranked the AC to max. Once cool air blasted out and the open window cleared the stale air, she stocked the fridge with bottled waters, one by one. Lining up the labels perfectly was her little quirk. It just looked nicer for the seniors.
"Phew... that should do it."
After closing the window and confirming the room was chilling nicely, she caught her breath and stepped into the hallway. The stadium was still quiet. Players were warming up, and only a handful of fans dotted the stands.
Seo Ha-yoon took a sip of water, just wanting some fresh air. That's when she spotted two guys at the end of the outfield tunnel. Smoking and chatting. Turkeys uniforms—left fielder Yoo Seong-jae and third baseman Im Jae-min. Solid mid-tier pros.
She would've ignored them normally. But a familiar name floated through their words.
"That rookie's been doing pretty good, huh?"
Seo Ha-yoon's hand froze. Im Jae-min's voice, laced with a sneer through the cigarette smoke.
"When Jeong Hoon comes back, you gonna get pushed out? Better watch yourself."
Yoo Seong-jae snorted.
"Gotta crush him first."
'Crush him?' Seo Ha-yoon's face hardened.
"But I hear he's solid in the infield too? Doesn't that put you at risk, Mr. Third Base?"
"Oh yeah... Guess I'll have to crush him too."
Im Jae-min's words sent them both into snickering fits.
"You know what? That guy's got insane luck. Total bullshit."
"Luck? What luck?"
Yoo Seong-jae asked. Im Jae-min exhaled smoke and lowered his voice.
"Heard from the scouting director—he wasn't even supposed to get drafted."
"What?"
"For real. Guess why they picked him? His name."
"Name?"
Seo Ha-yoon perked her ears instinctively.
"Think about it. Kim Ho-seong to Pittsburgh, Kim Hyeon-seong to San Diego. And Kim Han-seong might head to the majors too. Kim H.S. They liked the name so much, they grabbed him in the 11th round. 'What if he goes major league too?' Like that."
Im Jae-min finished, and Yoo Seong-jae cracked up, grinning ear to ear.
"Haha! That's hilarious. Dude's got name luck for days. Pro debut on a gimmick? Hilarious. Makes sense for our cheap-ass team—needs one guy to hit the majors and cash in on posting fees."
Seo Ha-yoon felt like she couldn't breathe.
Yoo Seong-jae flicked his ash.
"One slip-up from that punk, and I'll cuss him out till he gets mouthy and suspended."
"Same here. If Jin-woo or anyone messes up infield defense, I'll rip 'em. Especially Jin-woo at first—tell him to freak if the ball's off even a bit. Who does this rookie think he is? Utility or not, he should rot in Double-A for a year. That's why we stuck the dorm there."
They chuckled again, stubbed out their smokes, and sauntered off.
Seo Ha-yoon watched silently. Her water bottle had gone lukewarm, and her chest tightened uncomfortably.
'Kim Hu-seong... What do I do...'
Pros compete. Against other teams, sure—but inside the club, for starting spots too. That's what sharpens skills.
But this? This wasn't competition. It was deliberate sabotage of one rookie.
She closed her eyes briefly.
'Should I tell him?'
Then—
"Ha-yoon! What're you doing?"
A senior cheerleader called. Ha-yoon snapped to.
"Oh, yeah! Coming!"
She hurried back to the lounge. But her mind was a tangle.
'Or... just pretend I didn't hear?'
A rookie cheerleader blabbing about players could backfire. But smiling and cheering like nothing happened? She couldn't fake it.
Seo Ha-yoon regretted it a bit. Running into Kim Hu-seong minutes ago, overhearing this mess.
Alright, decision made.
Not like I'm playing the whole game. But saying this ain't easy. Even if I bought the booze, calling out a pro for pounding drinks? One word, and it's Double-A for me.
But... losing with trash play would suck worse, right?
Done agonizing in the locker room, I headed to the manager.
"Manager."
A familiar voice cut in.
"Hey! Kim Hu-seong! Still alive?"
Son Tae-ho sunbae, grinning as he slapped my shoulder playfully.
"Manager, this guy's a solid drinker."
Kim Young-ho turned, eyeing me.
"Him? And that's a brag?"
"Nah, just... rookie's got tolerance, haha..."
The manager sighed my way.
"Kim Hu-seong."
"Yes..."
"You're playing today—get your head straight. Got it? Skipping Monday training after one good day? Earn it. Understood?"
My mind blanked. Fucked.
Say I'm sick now? Mouth wouldn't move.
Monday training—slumping players volunteer extra. Skip after this game? Risky.
In this vibe, "Can't play" screams red flag.
"Yes... I'll do my best!"
Forced a grin. Shuffled back, sour-faced.
Idiot. Why chug like that!
Hangover wrecked, can't even complain.
Do it again, asshole.
I cursed two-days-ago me, splashed cold water on my face at the sink.
Puha! Puuhaa~!
Cold hit, brain woke a bit. Okay, nail training. Survive the game.
Self-pep-talked, grabbed gear, to the dugout.
But training went sideways from jump. Chasing fly balls in outfield practice—ball vanished mid-air.
Hangover haze? Sun glaring, head throbbing, couldn't track.
Ah! Where's it dropping...?
Forced focus, but senses dulled—body lagged half-beat. Snagged it barely, but stumbled, balance shot.
Post-catch wobble nearly ate shit.
Voice from behind:
"Hey! Straighten up! Why half-ass it!"
Left fielder Yoo Seong-jae, pissed.
"Sorry..."
Head down, back to spot. Gut burned worse from sunbae's bark.
Today's gonna suck...
Ominous dread crept up.
Game started—brain fogged instant. Heart pounding, throat dry. Kept face neutral.
Luckily, ninth batter. Late order, breathing room.
Watched sunbaes bat top of first till three outs, then field.
Outfield breeze cooled my face. Luck struck—all grounders, infield handled. No balls my way. Blessed.
Inning over, trudged to dugout.
Just hold on... please.
Then bile rose. Stomach boiling.
Slipped to bathroom quiet-like.
"Urk. Sudden bullshit."
Quick cold splash, clung to sanity.
Fucking hangover.
Heading back, someone approached hall end. Stopped right in front.
Third baseman Im Jae-min sunbae. Face icy.
"Hey, what the hell are you?"
Startled bow.
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
"Not playing straight?"
What? What'd I mess?
"Sorry... sunbae."
"Saw it all, punk."
"Rookie starting nonstop, acting big? Why not hustle back to position?"
Choked. But... I did hustle...
Unspoken rule: sprint to spot. Thought I did, despite crap condition.
Looked like slacking?
"Sorry... I'll hustle proper."
Im Jae-min glared, snorted.
"Hey! Eyes on you—do it right."
Slapped my shoulder—harder than expected, body rocked.
Whew... that all? Lucky maybe?