First Steps as Manager (3)
I woke up early in the morning, hopped on the bus, and headed to the stadium for work. With my historic debut as manager kicking off today, my heart had been pounding since dawn. I wondered how my first game as manager would play out. It would be great if things went the way I wanted, but baseball was an unpredictable sport. Stats and probabilities were everywhere, yet they could betray you or get ignored just as easily. Still, I'd prepared as hard as I could even as a coach, so I felt confident we'd put up a good showing.
On the bus ride over, I searched for articles about myself. Naturally, they were overflowing with stories on me. I was prime material: a 25-year-old bullpen catcher with zero experience suddenly taking the reins of the Daejeon Eagles—a team you could call semi-prestigious, no less—and one mired in match-fixing scandals to boot. I felt like the protagonist of a drama no one would script.
Most articles expressed worry and concern. Fans weren't exactly welcoming either.
There were plenty of malicious comments like that. Sure, a few praised my looks, but I wasn't fazed. From the fans' perspective, it was understandable. Even I thought it was absurd; for them, it had to be worse. If we showed results through our preparations, we could win them back anytime.
By the time I reached the training field, players were starting to gather and warm up. Their eyes burned with determination. They had to be under massive pressure too. To turn the fans' anger around, we'd need to pour everything into it.
I checked their training, then submitted the starting lineup. From the usual 28, I dropped Tatusco and Kim Jae-nam as tomorrow's starters, and pulled Lee Dae-seon from the field roster. He'd looked mentally off that morning—probably because he'd been bumped for Kang Si-hak. These little things needed one-on-one talks to sharpen their focus.
Once the lineup was set, Yoon Hye-young stopped by to say the press conference was ready. It was a nonstop whirlwind of a day.
The press room at Eagles Park was packed with reporters. They meant business. As I walked in, flashes exploded in my face, leaving me dazed. But this was my first greeting—I didn't want to look tense, so I took a deep breath and bowed to the cameras before sitting.
"Hello. I'm Lee Jin-ho, the new manager of the Daejeon Eagles. Nice to meet you all."
More flashes erupted.
"What kind of background got you the Eagles' manager job?!"
"Do you really think you can handle being manager?!"
"Someone who's never even played in the first team—how can you manage?!"
Reporters thrust mics forward, questions flying. "One at a time, please—raise your hand for a turn!" The operations team chief stepped in to rein them in. With his help, things calmed down. I pointed to the first reporter with a hand up.
"What kind of background got you the Eagles' manager job?"
It was the perfect opener, so I picked him on purpose.
"Everyone knows I was a bullpen catcher. No talent as a player, right? But apparently, I had it as a coach. Lucky break getting roaming coach, and helping players grow led to this."
"So the first-team players follow a bullpen catcher's orders? No complaints or rebellion? Lots of concerns about that."
A reporter jumped in uncalled, but it was a fair question—one I could answer well.
"Like I said, the players follow me closely. Truth is, their support got me here. Veterans like Jeong Woo-geun, Kim Tae-hoon, Go Jin-dong, Ma Young-il, and Lee Dong-gun welcomed it."
The conference flowed smoothly. Unlike my initial nerves, answering questions loosened me up—turns out I'm a stage guy. I could see my expression softening on the screens.
"Fans are furious about the recent match-fixing. Your thoughts?"
"It's heartbreaking. Match-fixing has no place in any sport. My battery coach Shin Hyun-kyung and I were the first to report it. The club acknowledges responsibility, launched a full investigation, and is pouring resources into prevention. If I may say, the players are the real victims. They trained hard game after game, only for the ex-manager and some coaches' schemes to rob them of rewards. They get the fans' resentment and are training harder to win them back. With me in charge and our first game today, we'll show our loving fans the best we can."
I answered fluidly, no shakes. The team chief's smile told me I was nailing it—boosting my confidence more.
As we wrapped, Yoon Hye-young gave me dual thumbs-up. "Wow... Manager, you're a natural! Reactions are insane—fans are like, 'Did they hire a celebrity?'"
"Really? Thanks. Hope it softens them on the match-fixing."
Checking the live YouTube stream on her say-so, it was flooded with praise—total opposite of morning. Mostly gushing over my face and looks, with nods to the players' hard work. Some rookie-manager worries lingered, but we'd prove it on the field.
Heading to the final training, players looked brighter, clearly seeing the presser and shifting opinions. I gathered them for a pep talk.
"You guys did nothing wrong. But we hurt the fans— you all get that. Only way to repay is max effort, best play. Got it?!"
First time using casual speech with them. A manager can't stay formal forever.
"Got it!!!"
They roared back, unfazed—they believed in me. Loved the energy. Stepping down, I called Lee Dae-seon over. He looked a bit sulky. Born in '81, nine years my senior and a team vet—being benched stung.
"Lee Dae-seon, you're out today for condition. Right calf hurting a bit, right?"
"Huh? How'd you..."
He blinked in shock. Every player has aches, but pinpointing it floored him. I'd seen it in his status window.
"Your walk looked off. That's it—no other reason. Love your hustle, but rest and manage it today."
"Got it, Manager!"
Knowing I cared erased his gripe. Guys are simple like that.
Next, Kang Hyun-jun—stressed from his sudden call-up. I talked him down calmly. Hit key players one-on-one, solving issues and motivating via their status windows. Knowing their headspace made management easy.
Prep done, we marched to the field more united than ever.