The Scent of Match-Fixing

Once that suspicion took hold, I became genuinely curious. I turned to Shin Hyun-kyung, the coach watching beside me.

"Coach, doesn't something feel off? Are they trying to lose on purpose?"

"Huh? Why do you say that??"

He looked genuinely puzzled by my words.

"I don't know... it just seems weird. The defensive shifts, the lineup—everything. Ah! Look at this right now. We're attacking with a runner on first, one out, and they're calling for a bunt? The runner isn't even fast."

Kim Tae-hoon was on first, and it was Lee Yong-gyun's at-bat behind him, but the manager was signaling for a bunt.

"Hmm...? Yeah, you're right. What the hell? Is it a judgment error from the manager?"

Shin Hyun-kyung seemed to sense something off too, based on my comment.

In the end, the play went through, and Lee Yong-gyun, who was solid at executing bunts, laid one down and advanced the runner to second. He hustled hard himself but ended up dying at first—a sacrifice bunt. His expression was grim as he slowly trudged back to the dugout. He clearly wondered why he'd been asked to sacrifice like that.

Next up was Jo Sung-in, the Daejeon Eagles' star catcher. He had a low crouch that made him great at throwing out runners, but his bat didn't inspire much confidence. Sure enough, Jo Sung-in's contact died in the air, ending the inning with a flyout to right field.

"Coach, any promising rookies in this draft?"

I asked just in case they were tanking on purpose.

"Well, there are some prospects, but we're halfway through the season—they wouldn't tank now. Plus, the draft's based on last year's standings anyway... Still, it is weird, huh?"

Shin Hyun-kyung tilted his head, looking puzzled. He'd played professionally for years, especially as a catcher, so he knew tactics better than anyone.

With that nagging doubt in my mind, we ended up losing the game. We mounted a comeback in the late innings, but it wasn't enough to overcome the deficit. On top of that, with the score at 11-4 in the seventh, the manager pulled all the starters. It was common to sub in reserves for stamina management when a game's already lost. The replacements from the second army did their jobs, but without the core lineup, we fell 12-9.

The fans' communities exploded in outrage. If the manager hadn't yanked the starters so early, we might've had a shot at a comeback. News articles and forums burned with furious rants from pissed-off fans.

The articles overflowed with rage, mockery, and jeers.

Vitriol poured out in raw, unfiltered blasts. Amid the fury, there were some logical breakdowns of the game.

Most dismissed the long post as nonsense, but a few replied it could be possible. Seeing it hit me too: Is it really match-fixing? I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠searched posts by the author, BaldEagle. He seemed legit on baseball—detailed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tactics and terms only a serious fan would know. But true to his word, no match-fixing posts survived; only player analyses remained.

After the game, boos rained on the team bus. Inside, it was dead silent and somber. The players had tried, but things just didn't click. Plenty of hits, but no clutch RBIs meant low scoring. Lee Tae-young especially hung his head like a criminal.

One thing was clear: Lee Tae-young hadn't pitched poorly. BaldEagle hadn't mentioned defensive shifts, but to my eyes, those were botched too.

I pulled out my phone and showed Shin Hyun-kyung the post. It had tons of comments and upvotes now, so it hadn't been deleted.

"What's this?"

"Uh... something from the community. Wanna take a look?"

He took my phone and read slowly. His face hardened with every line.

"Jin-ho, don't breathe a word of this anywhere. It'll tear the team apart."

"Got it... But what do you think?"

"Sigh... I felt something off today too, so I'll talk to the manager. But with the coaching staff's mood lately, I'll wait till things cool down."

"Understood. I'll stay quiet."

"Yeah. Lay low for a bit, kid."

"I will..."

His worried tone hit home. I still wasn't coaching the first-team guys properly. Luckily, the second-army callups—who I had been working with—saved us. Most followed me closely, even the vets. They were desperate, clinging to my drills because they saw real growth. Quietly, I was taking over the team from the bottom up. The first-team coaches would've flipped if they knew.

Not long after that game, we ghosted through a five-game skid, dropping to 9th ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place. And the real shocker: Shin Hyun-kyung got demoted from second-army battery coach to development coach. Manager's orders.

No one worked harder, so the sudden reassignment screamed retaliation for the post I'd shown him.

I called him immediately to get the story.

"Hey... Jin-ho?"

His voice sounded drained over the line.

"Coach, what happened? Development team?"

"Told the manager, and boom—he shipped me here. Damn... something's definitely up."

Just as I'd suspected. Whatever he said about match-fixing, the manager reacted fast with this "personnel move." Couldn't fire or reassign per contract, so they kept the title but banned him from the second-army field. Exile, basically.

"Public opinion's tanking—should I step in?"

"What can you do?"

"Post on the community. I'm decent at it."

"Kid, that's whistleblowing. You're staff."

He voiced real concern. Insiders posting could spark a shitstorm.

"Whistleblowing...? Might work. Better yet, tip a reporter—not the community. No security breach if it's off-record."

"Sigh... Don't do a thing. I'll handle it."

He tried reining me in again, worried I'd get hurt.

"Coach, without you, I'm out of this organization."

"Who said I'm leaving? Just wait. I'll fix it. This is Shin Hyun-kyung you're talking to."

His voice gained steel, unlike the initial weariness. I just hoped he wasn't overdoing it for me.