First Game (4)
Yoon Jun-myeong stared at Kang Hyun-jun in astonishment, even though he'd thrown a pitch right tight on the inside corner. For a high school grad rookie stepping up to the plate for the first time in pro ball, you'd expect nerves and pressure like crazy—but there wasn't a hint of that on Hyun-jun.
I hadn't expected to throw him in like this either. I'd wanted to ease him into a more relaxed spot. No way did I want to pile on too much pressure. But Hyun-jun seemed born to be a superstar, way beyond what I'd imagined. No tension showed on his face in his very first at-bat.
Yoon wound up after exchanging signs with the catcher and fired one in. This time, it was a straight fastball right down the middle—perfect to hit. Yes! I cheered inwardly. With Hyun-jun's skills, he could crush something like that.
But Hyun-jun didn't swing again. The ball dove low and was called a ball. It looked delicious to me, but his eye was clearly sharper than mine. Rookies often struggle with breaking balls, yet he laid off it. Yoon tilted his head, his face saying, He's not swinging at that?
Before the third pitch, the pitcher-catcher signs dragged on. Yoon kept shaking his head, rejecting the catcher's calls. Finally, they synced up, and he unleashed another one. This was a real heater, tailing off to the outside. Hyun-jun's bat finally whipped around.
Crack! But it was too far outside—foul ball. Still, his timing on the fastball looked solid. The pitch was just too good, jammed outside.
Yoon took a quick deep breath and fired again, this one diving inside. Hyun-jun's eyes flashed, and his bat spun. Having seen one inside fastball already, his timing was perfect now, tracing a beautiful arc on the swing.
CRAAACK!!! The clean ping of ball meeting bat rang out crystal clear.
"Whoaaaaaaa!!!"
The crowd leaped to their feet, roaring as the ball rocketed off. Our dugout exploded too. The second it connected, we all knew. This one's big. Home run.
Hyun-jun looked a bit dazed at first, then grinned wide as he trotted the bases after clearing the center-field wall with room to spare.
First at-bat. Bases loaded, two outs, a 20-year-old high school rookie debuting in pro ball—and he crushes a grand slam. With a monster swing, no less.
When I first coached him, I figured building shoulder strength for power would blend with contact to boost it more. But I never dreamed he'd launch one like this. The status window's potential was even more insane than I'd thought.
Yoon, watching his pitch sail away, collapsed on the mound in a daze. No way he'd imagined a high school rook crushing him for a homer.
Score: 8-5, us. The next hitter, Chu Woo-seung, flew out to center. But Park Jin-jeong in the 7th, Song Chang-ik in the 8th, and closer Yoon Jin-gyu in the 9th shut the door tight. Victory ours.
MVP: Hyun-jun at the plate, Lee Dong-gun on the mound. Hyun-jun added a double in the 8th for 2-for-2 beyond the slam. Dong-gun stabilized the tough spots through the 6th, paving our win.
Post-win, players lined up and bowed to the fans. Not for any mistakes on their part, but to apologize for the team's scandals that'd let them down. The crowd clapped back warmly, like forgiveness.
"Keep this up, and we'll come every game!!"
"Great job!!!"
"Fighting!!!"
They cheered the come-from-behind win from the heart. My first game as manager left me stunned, but thrilled with the W.
Afterward, players and coaches gathered in the lounge. The second I walked in, thunderous applause. Celebrating my first managerial win.
My lineup calls, subs, baserunning—nothing flopped today. More than just not screwing up; I'd nailed it.
"Th-thank you all. So happy to grab the first one. Still kinda dazed. I'm a rookie manager, but I want to grow with you guys. Thanks."
More applause, even from the coaches. They seemed to agree I'd looked solid out there.
We scattered quick for tomorrow. I had lineups to set, opponent scouting to cram.
My own situation felt surreal. How long since I quit playing to coach? And boom, managing a game. But it fueled me to do better. Coaching felt more my fit than playing, weirdly. As a player, effort hit walls. Now, it paid off. And directing talent suited me way more. Sure, regret over not being a star player—but I'd be the best damn manager instead.
...
In two weeks, we won 9 of 12. Jumped to 7th. Just 2.5 back of 6th, 5 from 5th. Postseason hopes swirled around us after that grind.
Our 9th-place drop? More coaching staff rot than player talent. With that gone, skills shone brighter. My hands-on training helped too.
Coaches' attitudes shifted with results. Early snubs and eye-rolls turned to respect.
Team transformed. Kim Jae-nam demoted—three stars full, occasional call-ups flopped. Up came Im Young-gi, sidearm rookie with solid upside. Good 2nd-arm showings and work ethic earned it.
Chu Woo-seung down, No Kwang-su up. He'd grinded in minors, great glove and wheels. Polish the bat, he's gold. Hyun-jun locked DH, thriving post-slam confidence. Leading every game.
Swept Changwon Dinosaurs today. Off tomorrow—dinner drinks with Coach Shin Hyun-kyung and Seon-ah.
TV face everywhere now; tough grabbing drinks out. Handsome curse. Private room it was.
Shin already there. "Aigoo, Manager's here!"
"Come on, Coach—in private, relax."
"No way! You're saving the Eagles from the abyss..."
He boomed laughs, bantering casual despite my protests. Hell, he was my lifesaver—got me to manager. Felt awkward.
In walked Seon-ah... with another girl. Kim Soo-hyun, fellow cheerleader.
"Manager, first time IRL. Honored."
She bowed deep. Treatment I'd only caught as bullpen guy—and now? Body cringing.
"Girl, relax—same age as Jin-ho. All peers."
"Hey! 'Jin-ho' to our sky-high manager?! Right...?"
Soo-hyun pouted cute, smacking Seon-ah's arm. They were tight; Seon-ah just laughed it off.
Shin blinked at the extra guest, then burst laughing. "Anyway, let's have fun~"
He poured shots, lighting the mood. 15-year gap, but his easy vibe made it comfy.