Bolt from the Blue
"Unfortunately, I won't be able to go with you under Manager Lee Jin-ho next year."
Chairman Kang Seung-yeon's words hit me like a thunderbolt at first. Just moments ago, he'd praised my efforts and promised a 300 million won incentive, painting a golden future in my mind. When I first took the manager role, I knew my position was shaky. But after turning the last-place team into a fourth-place contender, I naturally assumed I'd continue as manager next year too.
But the words from Chairman Kang's mouth weren't about extending my contract.
"What... what do you mean...?"
I couldn't believe it; the words slipped out before I knew it.
"I know what you're thinking. I know how hard you've worked... and what a capable manager you are."
You know? If you know, then why not keep me on as manager? Was that 300 million won incentive just a severance package in disguise? My head spun with all sorts of thoughts.
"Operations team leader, explain it properly."
Reading my expression, Chairman Kang turned to the operations team leader, who looked troubled as he addressed me. It seemed he'd known all along that I couldn't stay on as Eagles manager. A massive sense of betrayal washed over me.
"Ha... First off, Manager Lee Jin-ho, I'm truly sorry. We know how devoted you've been to the team and what a talented manager you are. But due to unavoidable circumstances, the organization has decided not to renew your contract."
"Unavoidable circumstances? What are they?"
When I first became manager, the fans' doubts and the curses on community boards had all but vanished. Instead, the sites overflowed with praise for me.
And so on—praise posts like these flooded in. With all that support, what unavoidable circumstance could there be? It couldn't be the fans; they loved me. The players followed me devotedly, and my relationships with the coaches had smoothed out recently too.
"It's... Manager Kim Geun-seong. He's contacted us saying he wants to take over as Eagles manager."
"Pardon...? Manager Kim Geun-seong?"
My head throbbed like I'd been struck. Kim Geun-seong was the legendary manager who'd led the Incheon Wyverns from 2007 to 2011, winning three championships and one runner-up in five years, building their dynasty. He was fired in 2011 amid a slump, and the Wyverns never fully recovered. He was the symbol of Incheon Wyverns, a true master manager worthy of the title "great."
Why would someone like him suddenly come to the Eagles?
"Yes. Manager Kim has agreed to take the helm, and a bunch of coaches loyal to him will join the first-team staff. After much deliberation, we've decided to go with him instead of renewing with you, Manager Lee."
I had no choice but to accept it. No matter how well I'd done in the second half, I couldn't match his prestige. For the organization, it was an inevitable, even obvious choice. They'd likely figured he was the more stable option all around.
"Manager Lee, I'm sorry. We'll all remember your hard work. Lead the team well through the remaining games. The 300 million won is your incentive, and we'll make sure your severance is generous too."
As the operations team leader finished, Chairman Kang offered his condolences. It was already set in stone; my objections wouldn't change a thing. With the owner's approval, I was powerless.
"Sigh... I understand. Thank you for trusting me all this time."
No other words came. I left the director's office, heading to an empty bathroom and slumping onto the toilet. My legs gave out completely. I'd stayed composed in there, but inside, I was crumbling.
Once I could see players' talents, I knew managing was my true calling. That's why I'd poured in more effort than anyone. As a rookie manager, I'd devised strategies for wins and drilled them into the players. Those efforts flashed by, stirring a helplessness deeper than when I'd ended my playing days as a bullpen catcher. Tears burst out unbidden; I stifled sobs alone for a long while.
One must endure competition in sports, but this defeat never got easier. After crying it out, I splashed cold water on my face to hide the redness before emerging. Luckily, no game today meant I could head home like this. Facing the players now might bring the tears back.
I texted Coach Shin Hyun-kyung: something came up, heading out early. Then I fled the stadium and hopped in a taxi.
At home, I buried myself in bed and cried some more. Only after a day did my mind start to settle.
...
Even after the no-renewal notice, I didn't tell the players. I worried it'd shock them into poor performances. I didn't want my exit hurting the team.
The regular season wrapped 1-1. We finished fourth, qualifying for the postseason. Fans were thrilled at the rare playoffs, showering me with praise, satisfied. I was too distraught over leaving to fully appreciate it.
Our playoff opponent: Changwon Dinosaurs. No slacking just because I was out soon. I oversaw training meticulously, set lineups and tactics carefully. This might be my last games as manager; I couldn't half-ass them.
But the postseason wall was high. Despite solid plans, the pressure got to us: 1-2 loss, out in the wild card. Bitter defeat. We won game one, but losses in the next two ended my Eagles' run.
The next day, the team learned I wouldn't return—and that Kim Geun-seong was the new manager. The club gave me time to say goodbyes. For fans, they'd announce once things settled, to avoid backlash given their love for me.
Entering the training field, players were in tears—from the young ones to veterans. Even some coaches cried. I was stunned. They'd been told about the new manager too, yet here they were, grieving my departure.
"Ah... y-you... guys..."
Seeing grown men weep choked me up too; I couldn't continue. Their feelings hit hard. Especially Lee Dong-gun, Ahn Young-hyun, and Kang Hyun-jun—sobbing storms. All my direct mentees wept. Even bulky Coach Shin Hyun-kyung teared up; that snapped me out of it.
"Ha... come on, everyone, calm down."
I took the podium prepared for me and steadied them first.
"I spent six years with Daejeon Eagles without ever stepping on the first-team stage, finally making it as manager. First, infinite thanks to the organization for the opportunity. And to the players—no, my seniors—and coaches who trusted and followed this mere bullpen catcher: thank you so much. You gave nothing-but-a-nobody like me this chance. Hearing a better, more capable manager is coming lets me step aside without regrets. Even from afar, I'll cheer for Eagles to soar higher without me."
I hadn't prepared, but the words flowed—straight from the heart. Eagles had been so good to me. But my voice trembled more with each word, nearly breaking. The growing sobs around me didn't help.
When I finished, players and coaches rushed me, hugging tight. Massive men embracing, hot tears flowing—that raw emotion only comes from true bonds.
Thus, I bid my final farewells and left the stadium. First I encountered? Han Seon-ah.
"What're you doing? Let's go. Vacation time."
Seeing my swollen eyes, she flashed a bright, refreshing smile, cheering me up.