The Lucky Charm
Sometimes you come across that kind of player.
One who seems clearly talented, then stalls at some point and leaves fans grinding their teeth in frustration.
To Hawks fans, Lee Won-taek was exactly that.
He'd performed solidly from his debut season onward, and the talent was always there.
Fans had believed, without a shred of doubt, that he would lead the team to greater heights as their leadoff hitter.
But Lee Won-taek never lived up to those expectations.
A career .270 batting average and an on-base percentage in the high .360s were certainly respectable numbers — but measured against what the fans had hoped for, they left something to be desired.
On top of that were the half-hearted swings he'd show from time to time.
And since photos of him out drinking at every opportunity kept surfacing on community boards, no small number of fans called out his attitude.
It got so bad that people followed him around with the plea: just don't ever drive drunk.
That Lee Won-taek had changed.
His at-bat in the bottom of the third.
Crack—!
[Lee Won-taek's ball shoots past the first baseman!]
[Ho ho. He really is grinding that pitcher down. He worked the count to eight pitches again before slapping a single through the infield.]
At the sight of him fouling off pitches with rabid stubbornness before finally reaching base, the comment section of the Hawks community caught fire.
Then, when even the number two hitter Seo Ji-hoon followed him with a Texas leaguer that dropped just beyond the shortstop's glove, the boisterous comment section fell silent.
Because it was Kang Hyuk's turn at the plate next.
Everyone had to be glued to the screen.
[Batting third. Kang Hyuk is stepping into the box. So far this season, Kang Hyuk has posted an on-base percentage above .500 and a runners-in-scoring-position average approaching .450.]
[Even after pitchers have started working around him and his average has dipped, he's still hitting over .350.]
[What will the Kingdoms do? The pitcher is readying his windup.]
[Remember, Kang Hyuk has already seen twelve pitches in his previous at-bats, so he'll want to be patient and—]
Craaack—!
[He swung at the first pitch! It keeps carrying… keeps carrying! And over the wall… it's GONE!]
[Ho ho. Unbelievable. With all that fouling off, the pitcher was drowning in pressure to get ahead in the count quickly, you see? And he played that psychology like a fiddle.]
[With a three-run blast, the Daejeon Hawks pull ahead — and once again, Kang Hyuk is at the very center of it!]
When I crossed home plate after the home run, Won-taek, who'd been on base, was there to greet me.
The color in his face said he was over the moon about his own hit.
"Kang Hyuk! Did you see the pitcher's face just now? His expression was completely frozen!"
…Right. He must have gone full villain mode.
Well, fair enough. This was the guy who'd learned to cut fouls specifically to piss off opposing pitchers.
When we entered the dugout, the seniors greeted us by tapping their helmets.
"Isn't that already thirteen homers for Kang Hyuk?"
"Wow. Won-taek couldn't manage that in a full season, and the kid did it in two months."
"Hey now, hyung. Everyone has their role, don't they? My job is to set the whole table — plates and spoons included. All Kang Hyuk has to do is sit down and eat. Put me in the three-hole and I'd hit like him too."
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say."
Apparently pleased with how the game was going, Won-taek was chattier than usual.
"You all owe me one today. I made that pitcher throw nearly twenty pitches and shredded his mental game while I was at it. He'll be easy pickings the rest of the way. Now that's teamwork. Speaking of teamwork, it just reminded me — the reason my home run numbers were always so low was…"
"Aigo, someone shut this guy up already."
"Just saying."
Amid the warm, rowdy atmosphere, Hyung-jun, who'd grounded out in his previous at-bat, sidled up to me.
"Kang Hyuk."
"Yes?"
"Mind if I use your bat this time?"
"Of course not. Go right ahead."
Players sometimes borrow the bat of a guy who just went yard or is swinging a hot bat.
It's less about genuinely believing in superstition and more about wanting to do well by any means necessary.
With me showing no objection, the other seniors swarmed in.
"Can I use it too, Kang Hyuk?"
"Sorry, Hyung-jun. But the batter two hitters from now is me."
Even in the middle of all that, a few of the seniors had their eyes on Won-taek's bat instead.
"Hey, Won-taek. Can I use that taped-up bat of yours? Come to think of it, since when did you tape your knob?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Kang Hyuk taped it for me. If anybody else touches it, it loses its power."
Every hitter's gaze snapped to me at once.
Like I was some talisman of good fortune, the seniors started grabbing at my hands.
"Kang Hyuk, why only Won-taek's bat…?"
"He's not bullying you or anything, is he? If he is, wave your bat."
"Could you tape mine too?"
"Jin-mo hyung, you don't tape your bat in the first place."
"Then at least spray it with something."
…Maybe this team was just superstitious to the bone.
Park Jin-mo, having dinner with Kim Hyun-woo for the first time in a while, brought up what he'd seen.
"You're telling me Won-taek changed his whole approach because of Kang Hyuk?"
"Yeah. It's common knowledge among the hitters. Those two have been joined at the hip lately."
"That stubborn mule listening to anything anyone says? …Well, if he talked himself into it, maybe."
Puzzled as he was, delight was written all over Kim Hyun-woo's face.
For the two of them, who had worked a battery together for so long, there was a shared goal.
To leave behind a legacy — a championship.
And then out of nowhere, one high school graduate rookie had shifted the entire complexion of the team this much.
No wonder everyone's fired up.
Jin-mo himself had been cutting back on his drinking lately, hadn't he?
Kang Hyuk trained harder than anyone, put up monster numbers, and still stayed humble — and that combination radiated a positive energy to everyone around him.
"I hear the MLB scouts were singing his praises last game, too."
"He's earned it."
"What do you see, having spent years in the big leagues yourself?"
Kim Hyun-woo answered with a voice full of conviction.
"As long as Hyuk is here, we have to win it all."
"It's that serious?"
"Even me at my prime would've had my hands full facing that kid."
Kim Hyun-woo replied without a moment's hesitation.
The hitting skill to spray the ball to any part of the field he wanted, left or right.
Power so abundant he'd already cleared the fence entirely three times.
And a batting eye that didn't get fooled by anything decent pitchers threw.
"But here's the thing — I don't think Kang Hyuk sees it that way."
"What do you mean?"
"I know because we share an agent. The kid thinks he needs to be even better."
"He's a rookie out of high school winning monthly MVP. What more does he want?"
Even this month — the one everyone was calling a slump — his on-base percentage was still over .500.
And considering the pitchers were walking him precisely because the hitters behind him were weak, the rest of the lineup should almost feel guilty about it.
"Then I suppose that's why he trains like a maniac every single day?"
"Yep. He thinks even this amount of work isn't enough."
"What a relentless kid…"
Suddenly, Jin-mo grew worried.
"As the season grinds on, his body is going to break down."
Even veterans struggle to manage their conditioning as a season wears on.
Kang Hyuk looked fresh as a daisy right now, sure.
But attrition was inevitable as the games piled up.
I should talk to the coaches about this.
Right after the game ended.
My shoulder had been feeling a little off, so I went to see the medical staff.
"Trainer, sir."
"Hm?"
"My shoulder feels a little tight…"
Word of that somehow reached the hitting coach, who came sprinting over, out of breath.
"Where does it hurt? How bad? Is it bad enough that it's hard to move? Can you play tomorrow?"
"No, sir. It's really not that serious…"
"The severity of an injury isn't for you to decide. Let's get you examined first."
It really doesn't hurt that much, though.
The test results came back.
As expected — nothing worth worrying about.
"No sprain or anything else. It just feels like a muscle tightened up for a moment during play."
"Phew. Thank goodness."
The hitting coach let out a long breath of relief.
The team doctor pushed up his glasses and looked me in the eye.
"That said, I hear your training volume is enormous. If you keep training at this rate, your risk of injury will only climb."
"See? Everyone's already worried about it."
The hitting coach nodded along, studying my face.
"I almost never say this to anyone, but you need to cut back on training."
"But honestly, what I do isn't really all that much—"
"Then let me ask you this. When was the last time you left the dorm?"
"The dorm?"
"Yes. Not baseball — when was the last time you did anything else, out in the world?"
"Well…"
When was it?
Come to think of it, unless it was with teammates, I really had spent nearly all my time training.
The coach sighed at my silence.
"With the other kids, I worry about them getting into trouble outside — women, booze, that sort of thing. With you, I'm worried you won't take a break."
"…"
"For a while, stick to team workouts only. Go enjoy some free time. You're already more than pulling your weight in the games."
I had no choice but to nod.
That evening.
After dinner like any other night, my feet carried me straight toward the weight room on their own.
Beyond the glass door, a good number of players were pumping iron.
I allowed myself a wistful look — but only for a moment.
As I reached for the door, my eyes caught the hitting coach sitting in the corner.
"…Coach?"
"Tsk!"
"No, wait — I was just going to say hi to the guys…"
"Didn't I tell you to rest for a week?"
"Yessir…"
Walking out of the weight room like a man being tossed out on his ear.
Fine. Maybe I'll just get a few swings in, then.
My feet drifted toward the batting cages.
But an ambush was waiting there too.
The pitching coach greeted me as I stepped into the training area.
"Hyuk."
"Yes, Coach."
"The hitting coach says you're barred from here for a while, too. All individual training is off-limits."
"…Understood."
I slipped back out of the training facility and stared blankly at the sky.
An athlete, banned from exercising.
I'm really not even doing that much.
I don't much care for the 'back in my day' line of thinking, but.
Compared to the Tutorial in the White Room, my absolute training volume really had come down.
Then again, that's exactly what made the White Room so great.
I could train without ever worrying about injury.
…Though it did get boring sometimes.
On my way back to the dorm, I spotted a convenience store and, as if in a trance, pushed open the door.
And on the walk back to the dorm.
Somehow, my hands were holding a four-pack of beer that had set me back 13,000 won.