The Leaked Photo Scandal
While scraping the dirt floor of the dugout corner with a spike, head bowed, the base running coach approached.
"Kim Hu-seong."
"Yes, Coach."
I reflexively lifted my head, but I didn't have the guts to meet his eyes. The coach stared at me for a moment before speaking quietly.
"Hu-seong. We don't give the steal sign for no reason. It's because we think you can make it."
I bit my lip and muttered softly.
"I'm sorry. I still don't have a good feel for the timing."
The coach slowly shook his head and rested his elbows on the bench.
"Listen. Do you know the Suwon Igrets catcher's caught stealing percentage?"
"No, sir."
"Twenty percent. Twenty percent. Out of ten attempts, they only nab two. Way below the league average of 25%. And what kind of runner are you? Your time from first to second is in the 3.1-second range. You're one of the fastest guys out there. Plus, you've gotten pretty good at headfirst slides lately, right?"
Kuhhh... That means...
"You think we send the sign just for fun? We do it because we've judged it's a winnable battle for you. We're not asking you to take pointless risks."
I swallowed hard. It hurts... Getting hit with facts hurts even more... Losing battles I should be winning...
Damn it...
"And we don't call for steals against lefties. But against a righty, with perfect timing? If you hesitate and get thrown out, what then? We're telling you to go for the easy one. All it takes is a little courage. You can't keep blowing these chances."
"I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."
The coach patted my shoulder lightly.
"Good. No need to beat yourself up too much. Well, you should feel bad. You're a rookie, after all. But next time, show us everything you've got. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
After the game ended and I got home, I showered haphazardly and collapsed onto the bed. But sleep wouldn't come. My mind kept replaying scenes from the game over and over.
Baseball is tough... I muttered to myself.
That thrill from opening day, stepping onto the first-team stage for the first time—it was gone now. Back then, everything sparkled, and I felt like the chosen one. Not anymore. Reality was far colder.
Looking back, the coaches' advice was spot on. Pointing out flaws in my swing, telling me to fix my lead-off timing after getting on base—all correct. This is the era of data baseball. Opponent catcher's caught stealing rate, pitcher's interval between throws, my own sprint speed—every stat laid out plain as day. Their analysis is precise. Numbers don't lie.
So the problem is... me.
Even following their instructions, nothing changed. My hitting got worse, and I still got thrown out on the steal.
So what's wrong? The coaches' data isn't off. It's all right. Which means the screw-up is me.
Then what exactly is wrong...
Fundamentals. The first-team manager and coaches teach based on assuming you already have solid basics. I don't, so disasters like this happen...
So what do I do now?
The moment I asked myself that, my thoughts tangled into a mess. Start over from basics? Or stick it out trusting the coaches' methods to the end? Plenty of options, no answers.
One thing was clear: As I am now, I can't survive in the first team.
Bzzzzt. That's when my phone vibrated. The screen showed Seo Ha-yoon.
I stared blankly at the screen for a moment before slowly typing a reply.
I hesitated, then sent a short response.
I stared at the phone screen for a long while even after sending it. Grateful for Seo Ha-yoon's apology, but wondering if it was okay to shut her down like that.
She's kinda cute... No, but no choice. Baseball is my biggest problem right now.
"Ah... I'm late!"
The next morning, the alarm woke me, but it had already screamed itself hoarse. When I finally opened my eyes, I was 30 minutes past schedule. I bolted out of bed, washed up, threw on some clothes, and rushed to the stadium.
"Haa... I always got here super early, but today I'm just on time."
Something felt off. Unlike usual, the atmosphere buzzed with a strange commotion. Whispers everywhere, sidelong glances my way.
I swallowed my unease. What? Did I mess up? Is the manager pissed about yesterday's steal? Or demotion to second team? My head spun, cold sweat trickling.
Then a team staffer approached.
"Kim Hu-seong, come with me for a sec."
My gut screamed something was wrong. Staff pulling me aside? Rare. Unless it's the first-team manager...
Damn, this is nuts...
He led me to a small conference room. Inside, several people already sat: the first-team manager, two marketing staff, and cheerleader team leader Jeong Su-a. The air was icy.
The manager sat with arms crossed, eyes closed. A staffer held a binder, eyeing me.
"Player Kim Hu-seong, do you know what this is about?"
My hands shook as I took the documents. The first page was a screenshot from an online community. Bold title:
↳ Hasn't named Kim Han-seong yet.
↳ Not Kim Han-seong? Then who?
Deny reality all you want. Makes sense a rookie stud is messing with cheerleaders.
↳ Doesn't add up... Isn't Kim Hu-seong hotter tho?
My breath caught. Endless comments like that.
My fingertips chilled as I turned to the second page.
The next post included a photo. Low-res, but unmistakable: that quiet bar where I'd been with Seo Ha-yoon and two senior cheerleaders. Faces shadowed by lights, but my clothes, hat, posture—anyone could tell it was me.
My mind went blank. We're totally busted... Fucked... And...
Aw, shit... My throat dried up, hands went limp.
First-team manager Kim Young-ho slowly raised his head.
"Kim Hu-seong. Is this you?"
A staffer, sensing the freeze, waved his hands hurriedly.
"Ah, Kim Hu-seong. We're not grilling you or anything. No misunderstanding."
Soft tone, but... This feels like an interrogation?
"It's like, this could be Kim Han-seong too, so we're just confirming. Not pressuring you. You get it, right?"
The staffer forced a smile and continued.
"And the 'cheerleaders' in the photo? Not sure which team. Can't assume... Could be another player. Right?"
He glanced at Jeong Su-a. Silence hung.
Jeong Su-a said nothing at first, but her eyes wavered. She'd clocked it. The outfits looked familiar. She bowed her head.
"...Sorry. Those cheerleaders in the photo look like Turkeys cheerleaders."
The room froze solid. Staffers exchanged looks, breathing quietly. The manager let out a long sigh that thudded to the floor.
"Haa... For real."
He pressed his temple with a finger.
"You're in charge of the cheerleaders, right?"
"Yes... I'm sorry."
Jeong Su-a nodded quietly.
"Why does this turn into a problem like this? Team vibe's already a mess, results are tanking... Why are cheerleaders meeting players?"
The manager's tone sharpened.
"If it's Kim Han-seong, huge disaster. Even if it's this guy, we're swamped already! And if media gets this, the whole team takes a hit. Why do scandals keep popping from this side?"
Amid it all, I felt a tiny spark of relief. Even if it's me, it's a hassle. But now, time to clean up.
How do I handle this?