Shock of the 11th Round Draft
"Got drafted, fuck. You're doing damn good."
The players from both teams, lined up in rows, faced each other and bowed their heads. "Good game."
The final Phoenix Tournament round-of-32 match. No miracles happened. The scoreboard read 6:0. After my hit, there were no more singles, and even our ace, Lee Su-creang, got figured out, giving up runs steadily.
And just like that, the last high school game for us third-years from Botong High, including me, came to an end.
"Everyone, gather up."
After finishing greetings with the opposing team, the coach called us all together.
"You all worked hard. Especially our starters. Thanks to you, we got to see the round of 32—nice."
Botong High School's starters nodded. But I didn't.
"No, Coach! Thank you so much for everything!"
"Thank you, Coach!"
"Alright, let's head back."
"Got it."
Everyone started packing their gear. And so did I.
Finally, this is over too. I thought as I organized my heavy bag.
Most players carry two or three gloves. Two—one for games and one spare—is standard. Adding a training glove makes three, which is common.
But me... because of the coach's orders, I haul around several. Infield glove, outfield glove, first base mitt, an all-purpose glove for every position as backup, and an extra training one just in case. Five in total—heavy load.
"Everyone, great job! Now onto the round of 16!"
"Yeah! Let's go!"
A massive cheer erupted from the Seoul Suseok High players across the field. They celebrated their win, hyping each other up for the next round.
Envy hit hard. We'd made it to the round of 32—wanted to climb higher at least once... My first start as a regular, and it ends like this.
No... for our team's level, even the round of 32 is impressive, right?
"Hu-seong, you got all your stuff?"
Lee Su-creang came over and clapped my shoulder.
"Yeah, almost done."
He hesitated a moment before speaking. "Hu-seong, good work today."
"You too. You okay? Threw a ton again."
"A ton? I gave up four and got pulled. Suseok's tough—real tough."
"Yeah..."
I nodded quietly.
"High school's over, huh? Kinda bittersweet, right?"
"Totally. We busted our asses all this time..."
Bittersweet? Tch, for me it's just bitter...
Starters and backups see it differently, I guess. But he came to console me, so I didn't show it.
Back at the dorm, I pushed open the door heavily. The room was quiet. I flopped onto the bed like dead weight.
"Hoo... ugh. Exhausted..."
Staring at the ceiling, I let out a quiet sigh. Now that baseball's done... my chest feels tight.
Then the door opened—Lee Su-creang walked in.
"Hey! What, already lying down?"
"Yeah, why? Need a break. Starting tires you out."
"Bullshit... Anyway, what's next for you?"
"What next? Rest."
"Nah, draft's coming up, colleges calling—which you wanna go to?"
"Pfft, what team picks a scrub like me? You go shine and land a good one."
I laughed like it was ridiculous.
"Say it nicer, man. I'm praying for even a late round. We're not that different."
Hey, asshole. We are different. Is he messing with me?
"Well..."
"Our school hit round of 32, sure, but sixteen teams ahead of us. They'll look our way?"
Uh... true. Mid-to-lower tier high schoolers breaking into pro ball? Tough.
About 110 get drafted yearly. Sounds like 100 rivals, but colleges take plenty too. Narrows the door more—you gotta be a standout.
Su-creang... borderline, maybe? Ace of the team, though.
I got serious. "If you don't go pro, what's the plan?"
"College."
"Keep playing there?"
He thought, then nodded. "Yeah, college ball at least. Grades are decent—got options. Not top-tier, but."
He had solid pitching stats. Me? Batting average late .100s. Versatile defense might help, but colleges value that?
"Dunno about me. Hitting's so bad, even colleges might pass. Anywhere that takes me is a win."
"Can't say till it happens. It's all about your drive."
My drive? It's the scouts' call.
"College at least—could teach PE later."
I spun a baseball in my hand.
"You as a PE teacher? Kids'd drop dead from your workouts."
"That's what they assign, not me."
"How many handle that? Stick to baseball. Too early to quit."
His joke drew a faint smile.
"You do better. Can't get hit like today."
"You hit better. Obvious they'd like you then."
"Yeah, yeah. College ball, let's crush it. Pro or not."
I'll bail elsewhere, obviously.
Su-creang nodded big. "Damn right. Not over yet."
Night deepened. They gazed at the ceiling, pondering futures. Uneasy days loomed, but a sliver of hope lingered.
Weeks later. Draft day.
Downstairs in Seoul Botong High's dorm lounge, players watched the draft. Would anyone from our school go pro? Su-creang, the ace, had a shot.
He stared tensely at the screen.
Me? I ate a big school lunch, headed back, and crashed in bed.
While friends watched, I relaxed. Why bother? Got nothing to do with me now.
Training down to a quarter. Rest doubled. I tossed balls to juniors like a coach sometimes.
Now, nap time. Blissful sleep, free of baseball worries.
"Woooaaah!"
How long later? A roar from the hall.
Ugh... loud. Su-creang must've gotten picked—big reaction.
Half-asleep, I felt glad for my friend. Pro from our school.
Then, pounding footsteps rushed down the hall.
"Senior Hu-seong! Where's Senior Hu-seong?!"
Someone yelled.
Huh? Why me?
Bang! Door flew open.
Juniors burst in, panting.
Still drowsy on the bed, I eyed them. "What? Su-creang get picked?"
One gasped out, "No! Not that—"
"Senior, you got drafted!"
Huh? I doubted my ears. Eyes wide like an idiot.
"What?"
He shouted louder. "You got drafted, Senior! In the draft!"
I bolted upright. Heart raced, ears rang. Head spun from sitting up too fast.
"What'd you say? I got picked? How?!"
"Just announced! 11th round—Gocheok Turkeys!"
Kim Hu-seong's mind went blank.
11th round? Pro?
Never dreamed it'd happen. Mid-lower high school defensive sub. .100 hitter—pro material?
Dazed, I stumbled downstairs. Friends and juniors pointed at the screen—names scrolling through 11 rounds.
And there, bottom of round 11: my name, clear as day.