Life as a Coach
After the other coaches left, Shin Hyun-kyung patted my back as I stood there alone.
"You okay?"
"Huh? Ah... yeah... I saw it coming, but it's still a bit shocking."
They knew my background better than anyone, so I figured they'd have their reservations about me becoming a roaming coach. But now that I was starting over as a coach, I had no intention of backing down.
That's when Kang Hyun-jun approached me.
"Um... Coach...?"
He came over cautiously and spoke up. I'd been worried he might get in trouble since he'd ignored Ji Dong-su's instructions and followed my advice instead.
"Yeah? You okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm not even on the first team yet anyway... But that's not it..."
"Huh? What then?"
"I want to keep training the way you taught me. Could you teach me more?"
Surprisingly, Hyun-jun preferred my methods over Ji Dong-su's.
"You sure that's okay?"
Getting on a coach's bad side could mean no playing time.
"I'm not even mentally on the first team yet. Once I improve, they'll call me up eventually."
Kim Jae-nam had been the Eagles' first-round draft pick, but Kang Hyun-jun was different. Picked sixth, in that awkward spot. In reality, Hyun-jun had higher potential than Jae-nam, but everyone else was hung up on Jae-nam's high school heroics. Hyun-jun didn't seem to expect immediate play this season. Unlike Jae-nam, he wasn't even on the first-team roster.
Still, I wondered why he was so eager to train with me.
"You know as well as I do—training with me might piss off the other coaches. Why me specifically?"
Hyun-jun scratched his head and answered.
"Well... I've had my own ideas about training, but they weren't working out. Coach Ji told me to swing for contact, but it didn't feel right for me. Then you explained things, and it was like, yes, this is it. My head cleared up. I just want to trust you, Coach."
He poured out his honest feelings. It was my first day as a coach, but his words filled me with a real sense of pride.
"If you're okay with it, I'll teach you anytime. I'll put together a training plan today, so follow it step by step."
"Thank you! Coach!!"
Kang Hyun-jun bowed deeply to me. Watching this, Shin Hyun-kyung smiled and said,
"Look at you, already a full-fledged coach. That's how it's done. Don't rush it. Take it steady."
Hyun-jun had me; I had Shin Hyun-kyung.
"Thank you, Coach."
I bowed sincerely to him as well. He'd looked out for me since my bullpen catcher days and made it possible for me to become a coach.
Shin Hyun-kyung chuckled and patted my back again. Seeing someone believe in me like this only made me want to work harder.
......
My official role was roaming coach, but I could hardly set foot near the first-team training field. The moment I showed up, the coaches shot me dirty looks. Naturally, the players were hesitant to train with me too.
Lee Dong-gun and Ahn Young-hyun came to me for help since I'd already proven useful, but the others didn't. Plenty didn't want to risk the coaches' ire.
So I hung around the second-team field, observing the players. A few with high potential stood out.
Among the pitchers, there was Lim Young-gi, three years younger than me—a rare sidearm guy. Then there was rookie Jo Woo-young. Not as promising as Lim, but with some polishing, he could turn into something decent.
For hitters, No Kwang-su was worth developing. Great speed, solid defense. Good contact skills, but lacking power. His eye wasn't great for his contact ability, so he struck out a lot.
Beyond that, the second team didn't have much raw talent worth growing.
My gift was elevating players with potential. But I couldn't create it from nothing—if the baseline was too low, there was no fixing it.
So I focused on the demoted first-teamers, training them hard. At night, I studied relentlessly.
I'd become a coach solely because of my status window. I had no natural coaching pedigree. Swing mechanics, pitching form—sports science had endless puzzles to solve. And I needed to learn exactly what training boosted which stats.
But my edge was knowing the problems and studying the fixes. For Kang Hyun-jun, it was shoulder strengthening; Lim Young-gi, control; Jo Woo-young, velocity and spin; No Kwang-su, eye discipline.
Once I pinpointed the needs, I dove into the research. My coaching life was going smoothly enough.
......
The season's first half wrapped up before I knew it. The players I'd developed were making their mark in the first team. They weren't finished products yet—plenty of rough edges—but they were getting spot starts and contributing.
Watching them succeed felt like I was the one shining. This must be a coach's joy.
But the team's record was tanking. They'd climbed to fourth in May, only to plummet from June on. By the All-Star break in July, they were eighth. Morale was in the gutter.
Mass demotions hit, rosters shuffled repeatedly. I passed on my know-how to those first-team guys. Most were my seniors, so they weren't thrilled about a junior coaching them. Plus, many saw second-team stints as a quick breather.
Still, the motivated ones took to my advice and earned quick call-ups through second-team play. Word spread—now even seniors sought me out when demoted. Rumors flew that players actually wanted to drop down for my coaching.
Some first-teamers snuck to the second-team field for tips, avoiding the coaches. Since I rarely hit the first-team area, second team was the only option.
They kept it quiet to dodge the coaches' wrath. At first, the seniors bantered casually with me, but after veteran Ma Young-il got my help, everyone started calling me "Coach" with respect.
Later I learned Ma had rounded up the team and laid down the law. Second team became known as a "coaching hotspot."
Player stats were climbing, yet the team sank. Fans whispered about firing the manager.
Shin Hyun-kyung and I headed to Daejeon after second-team games to catch first-team action. It was the series opener for the second half—high stakes.
The coaches glared daggers when I appeared at practice, but at the stadium, they ignored me. Probably to avoid cameras catching any drama.
Either way, I got to watch comfortably. Today's starter was Lee Tae-young, same enlistment class as me. Not close—we came from different worlds—but he was one of the guys who sought me out as a peer.
Under my guidance, his velocity was up lately. He'd been a reliever until foreign pitcher Clay Clop got injured and released, bumping Tae-young into the rotation. Solid control plus heat made him effective this season.
But something felt off as I watched. The manager's defensive shifts were weird. The opposing hitter specialized in pushing to left as a righty, yet the infield was shifted left.
Tae-young grooved one. A fastball away that the hitter half-pushed weakly—straight through the 2B hole. Normal positioning catches it as a groundout, but the lefty shift turned it into a hit.
It wasn't just defense. Lineup had hot hitter Lee Yong-gyun buried at sixth, while slumping guys clogged the three-hole. For a team this bad, was there more to it? The suspicion hit me right then.