No One Left to Check Me
The front office at the Gocheok Turkeys was far busier than usual. As the trade deadline loomed, phones rang every few minutes, and the general manager shuffled endlessly through stacks of documents on his desk without a moment's rest. It was a time demanding both caution and speed—deciding how to offload the last scraps of inventory, what combinations would best balance the team's lineup, all while keeping next month's schedule in mind.
Finally, his cell phone buzzed. After a brief call, he slumped back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
"Phew... it's over."
The scouting director, who'd been watching the proceedings beside him, rolled his shoulders in relief.
"Finally wrapped up. This one was a real grind."
The GM nodded, eyeing the finalized trade results.
"Yeah... not bad deals overall."
The scouting director flipped through the files.
"Spot on. We nailed the placements perfectly. Daejeon MacPies needed outfield help, so sending Yoo Seong-jae was a win-win. Daegu Eagles had a hole at first base backup due to injuries, so Ha Jin-woo was an easy fit they wanted. Busan Siguls' infield was weak, so they were after Im Jae-min... Solid matches across the board. We've got Hong Yu-chan and Kim Seok-hyeon to cover infield and outfield backups, so we're in good shape."
The Turkeys GM sighed softly despite the rundown.
"True... up to there it's fine. The problem's what we got back. Three pitchers barely scraping by in the loss squad... Not sure they can even hold an inning."
The scouting director chuckled.
"Our bullpen's all mediocrity right now—win squad or loss squad, doesn't matter. Better to grab guys with upside than limp to the finish line."
The GM crossed his arms and nodded.
"Of course... but actually using them's the issue. If all three flop, it's a disaster..."
The scouting director spread out the pitcher reports he'd prepared.
"If one of the three pans out, it's a win. All three? Greedy. Personally, I'd call it a grand slam if one goes to Double-A, one sticks in the loss squad, and one makes the win squad. New environment might flip one of these loss-squad guys for the better."
The GM muttered as he scanned the pages.
"Guys who suddenly improve with a change of scenery... Yeah, it happens."
He stared silently at the desk for a while, then slowly stood.
"Gotta believe it... Have to. Time to tell the players. Sooner the better—gives them time to pack and settle minds before the next game."
The scouting director rose too.
"I'll compile the details and share with the front office."
"Thanks."
The GM headed for the door, rolling his shoulders. Exhaustion was plain, but so was the relief of closure.
It was nearing the end of morning practice. As I took a swig from my water bottle after batting drills, a team staffer suddenly appeared by the field and started calling out names.
"Im Jae-min, Yoo Seong-jae, Ha Jin-woo. Could you come here a sec?"
My hand froze on the bottle. Why those three all of a sudden? Practice was in full swing—no normal reason to single them out like that.
Then Gu Min-seok tapped my shoulder from behind.
"Hey, that's the thing."
"The thing...?"
What thing? No way!
"...Trade?"
Gu Min-seok nodded deeply.
"Yep. Perfect timing. Handled it well—they're offloading even those guys. Your influence helped a bit there too."
I pressed my lips tight. I'd half-expected it, but reality brought a strange tension.
Moments later, the three returned from hearing the news, and the other players caught on quick. Soon, Im Jae-min, Yoo Seong-jae, and Ha Jin-woo came over for final goodbyes before packing.
But Son Tae-ho beat them to it.
"You three... good work. Safe travels."
"Thanks for everything."
Trades always carried a bitter edge. Teammates you'd shared meals and sweat with turned rivals or vanished overnight—never got easier.
But this one wasn't terrible.
"Lucky for us, we're all heading to spots with needs, so straight to the first team."
"Good. Real good."
The others followed with handshakes and back pats. As I watched them grab bags and head to their new squads, footsteps approached from behind.
Son Tae-ho.
"Hey, no more assholes checking you now—feels good, right?"
I blinked.
"Checking me? Haven't felt that in ages."
He squinted playfully.
"Oh~ Mr. Starting Regular now, huh? Getting cocky, Kim Hu-seong."
I grinned faintly, adjusting my helmet.
"Not cocky. Just facts."
"Oh~ Rookie with balls of steel?"
"Gotta have this mindset or get pushed out."
Son Tae-ho looked exasperated.
"Says the guy whose eyes were spinning wild last few days."
"That's just killer aura from a top player. Comes naturally."
"Pfft. Bull... Still got venom in those eyes. Loosen up."
"Gotta keep it. My vow to crush every team we face."
"Do you, kid."
The cheerleaders' YouTube shoot kicked off. Q&A format: Jeong Su-a as questioner, Seo Ha-yoon answering. Camera rolled, and they slipped into bright smiles, hitting mid-segment smoothly.
Jeong Su-a glanced at her notes and frowned slightly.
"This question... some fan feedback includes complaints."
"Complaints?"
Seo Ha-yoon nodded, a touch tense.
"Yeah. About Kim Hu-seong: hard to get his autograph."
Jeong Su-a read steadily.
"Sneaky hard to spot him. Tough even at restaurants or bars off-duty. Even at commute times, no sightings. Avoiding fan service?"
The camera panned slowly between them. Jeong Su-a turned to Seo Ha-yoon.
"Thoughts?"
That instant, Seo Ha-yoon's eyes sparkled. She lit up visibly, excited.
"Ah! I know this one. Got something to say!"
Jeong Su-a blinked in surprise—didn't expect that fire.
"...Really? Spill for the fans."
Seo Ha-yoon straightened eagerly.
"Fans, know when players arrive for afternoon home games? Uh... Jeong Su-a team leader?"
Jeong Su-a gave the standard.
"As a veteran cheerleader, I know: fielders around midnight, pitchers a bit later—30 minutes to an hour difference usually."
Seo Ha-yoon clapped lightly, beaming.
"Exactly!"
She dove in.
"Anyone in the know gets it... but Kim Hu-seong? Arrives 5 or 6 a.m.."
A few promo staff and Jeong Su-a startled. Jeong Su-a recalled that time he'd crashed in the cheerleaders' gear spot.
"Ah~ We saw proof once. But every day?"
"Yep, from what I know."
Seo Ha-yoon softened her tone cautiously.
"Sure, 2 p.m. games, most arrive by 7... but he hits at 5 or 6. That's why you miss him."
Jeong Su-a nodded, convinced.
"Ah... makes sense."
"Yes!"
Seo Ha-yoon nodded confidently.
"Fans wait at 10 or 11 for signs, but by then he's done training and resting. Not dodging service—schedules clash. He's just insanely diligent."
She pleaded gently to fans.
"Same for leaving: early in, out sharp. Preps for tomorrow."
Jeong Su-a marveled.
"That's... more dedicated than anyone?"
"Totally. In my eyes, he maxes every prep a player can. That's why I admire him so much. Explains his success—eyes only on baseball."
Seo Ha-yoon smiled softly on camera.
"See him not as fan-service slacker, but guy always practicing, so invisible. Or... wait at 4 a.m. for that autograph?"