Training Was Insufficient
“Gu Min-seok, come here for a sec.”
After the team huddle wrapped up, Son Tae-ho called out to Gu Min-seok.
“Min-seok-ah.”
“Yeah, hyung.”
“Now that you're up here too, the lineup finally feels solid. For real.”
Son Tae-ho rolled his shoulders like he was tired, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
“Wasn't it pretty good even before I joined?”
“Well, yeah... but it was just 'not bad.' Now it's almost back to last season's peak. The mercenaries' bats have weakened a bit, but our infield defense is rock-solid. And we've got another speedster like Hu-seong... Overall, it's on par with last year in firepower.”
Gu Min-seok nodded.
“What about the manager?”
It was a cautious question.
“I figured he was basically done for... but from what I've heard lately, the vibe's shifting.”
Son Tae-ho let out a deep sigh. His expression carried layers of meaning.
“He's barely hanging on. With the lineup heating up, the front office sees signs of a turnaround. And... honestly, that three-game sweep against the Busan Siguls was huge. Without it, he'd really be in hot water.”
“Guess that's a relief, then.”
“Yeah, that's how it is. He's still the guy who took us to runner-up last season, after all...”
Gu Min-seok nodded, mulling it over.
“Oh, and I heard something from the manager...”
Son Tae-ho leaned forward and continued.
“Looks like he's planning to slot Hu-seong in at leadoff. For the long haul. And you at two.”
Gu Min-seok paused for a beat, then nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, that'd be the most stable setup.”
But he added one more thing.
“But... is that all? Feels like there's more since he called you over...”
Son Tae-ho didn't answer right away. Instead, he exhaled long and slow again.
“Hu-seong's a good player, no doubt. But he doesn't fully get the leadoff role yet. His own play is solid—that's a strength. But that's not all there is to it, right? A leadoff has way more responsibilities. Tell him what he needs to do for the team. And work on his overall social skills too. He's too focused on solo training.”
Son Tae-ho looked straight at Gu Min-seok, his voice dead serious.
“So take him under your wing and show him. From what I've seen, he could veer into being a loose cannon without guidance. That's why he needs someone like you next to him—someone who calculates and reads situations.”
Then, after hesitating a moment, Son Tae-ho added with a small scoff.
“And... he's picking up all the wrong stuff from Hwang Do-yoon lately. Do-yoon looks out for him, which is great... but he's shoving a lot of bad habits in there too.”
“Ah... that late-night stuff recently?”
“Yeah. Even so... whew, honestly, I'm worried. Can't really leave it to Do-yoon... Please rein him in. Got it? Help us turn this around and keep climbing.”
Gu Min-seok chuckled and shrugged.
“Alright, I get the gist, hyung. Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him.”
“Good. Thanks for the trouble.”
With that, the two headed back to their spots.
The short huddle—or player-led meeting—had ended, and training was supposed to start, but the coaching staff had all gone into a meeting, delaying things.
Thanks to that, the players were chatting among themselves, and I watched the groups from afar.
Lately, I'd picked up a new habit. A side effect, maybe? This weird urge to observe people.
Hmm... There were Lim Jae-min and Yoo Seong-jae. Those two were always glued together... Both looked totally sidelined, full of frustration. With senior Hong Yu-chan as infield backup and Kim Seok-hyun covering the outfield, those guys barely got into games anymore. Sure, they might get a spot in a blowout for rest purposes, but ever since I came up, every game's been a dogfight—no room for them.
And over there... Huh? I spotted Son Tae-ho and Gu Min-seok talking. They chatted for a while, then split up, and Gu Min-seok headed straight for me.
“Hu-seong-ah.”
“Yes? Sunbae.”
“Follow me.”
What now? Did I screw up again?
Gu Min-seok stopped in a shady corner and turned to me with a short sigh.
“Hey, how long are you gonna keep calling everyone 'sunbae'?”
I blinked blankly.
“Huh? Is that wrong?”
“Not wrong, exactly.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“But if you keep it up, it'll create distance. Up to five or six years older? Just call 'em hyung, man. All that 'sunbae' stuff makes people feel the gap.”
Aha... Yeah, I'd heard that before. Most guys draw the line: sunbae for some age gap, hyung for closer.
I mentally ran through the team seniors' faces, calculating age differences. He shook his head watching me.
Not easy.
He'd said it that way, but inside, I was breaking a cold sweat. 'Sunbae' was stuck in my mouth—switching to 'hyung' felt weird.
Still, if he was pointing it out, it must be way better that way. Time to change.
Gu Min-seok jumped right to the next topic.
“And one more thing. You're leadoff now, so you gotta know team play.”
Team play? My shoulders twitched a bit.
“Everything you've done so far is great. You get on base, you run well. But that's not all. A good leadoff connects with the team. Tell 'em about the opposing pitcher, the fielders' conditions—you're the first to scout it all.”
“Ah... Got it.”
Honestly, I'd been focused on myself. Not that I ignored others, but I was too busy grinding my own game as a rookie.
“I get what you mean.”
“'Get it' isn't enough.”
Gu Min-seok cut me off firmly.
“I'll teach you the details later. For now, start with what you can do today. Go chat with the team. That way, it'll flow naturally in games.”
“Small talk?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded.
“You're off on your own right now. Training hard is good... but baseball's a team sport. Pay attention to this stuff too.”
Got it. That's what he meant.
“Just circle around today and say hi.”
Gu Min-seok patted my shoulder.
“It's awkward? Fine. But you gotta break through that to improve.”
“Yes... hyung.”
“There you go. Good. Now go mingle.”
I gave an awkward smile and peeled off.
But now that he told me to chat, who first? It felt daunting.
Ah... this is harder.
Lots of same-year guys on the pitching side... but talking pitchers felt off. The point was to connect with the fielders.
Then I spotted the foreign hitter chatting with the interpreter. Edison, the big guy with the scruffy beard—always smiling.
Screw it. Start there.
I took a breath and walked over. The interpreter was explaining something; our eyes met as I approached.
“Hi!”
Edison waved first.
“Hi, hi! Hello... I, I'm... Kim.”
My English sucked, but basic self-intro? Manageable.
Edison burst out laughing.
“Kim? Again Kim?”
He glanced at the interpreter and shrugged.
“Why Korean team, so many Kim? Everybody Kim!”
The interpreter chuckled softly and translated.
“He says there are too many Kims in Korea. Better to use your name.”
“Hu-seong. Hu-seong Kim!”
“Okay, Who~seong.”
I nearly cracked up at Edison's vibe but held it together and nodded.
“So, what's up?”
Like the humor was done, Edison eyed me.
But what to ask...
“Uh... just curious—how do you make shortstop defense look so easy?”
Everyone loves compliments, right?
“Defense... Just train a ton. You know, since you're good at it too.”
“But you've played majors... minors too, tons of training—must be something extra...”
“Extra? Hmm... Korean players train normally. You're a bit more than normal.”
Eh? Me, more than normal?
“Majors guys start at 4 a.m. Any Koreans doing that? Me... I'm adapting here, so not that intense, but back in the States, I did.”
Hoo... So my training was lacking?
All this time, I'd actually been shortchanging myself?