A Manager in the Stands

The biggest regret while managing from the dugout was that I couldn't see the cheerleaders' cheering section from where I sat. It was the most disappointing thing not to watch my beloved Seon-ah cheering in person. Normally, the cheering section wasn't visible from the dugout, so that was to be expected. Of course, I could occasionally catch glimpses of Seon-ah on the Jumbotron amid the cheerleaders, but that wasn't enough.

But after being ejected and leaving the manager's office to watch from the stands, I could finally see Seon-ah dancing right there. It felt great. I wore a mask and sunglasses, pulling my cap low over my face as I watched the game, but for the sake of my dignity as manager, I felt too awkward to sit right in front of the cheering section, so I took a seat a bit further away.

That's when I realized how rarely I'd ever been to a stadium as a spectator. During my playing days—even as a bullpen catcher—I was either training or in the bullpen loosening up pitchers, so I'd hardly ever watched a game from the stands.

Since I'd been ejected anyway, and we had to head to Changwon for the game against the Dinosaurs, I asked the team for a seat and watched from the stands. Baseball felt even more exciting from out here than from inside.

"Blast it! Run! Heroes' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kim Kang-jun! Blast it! Tear up the ground! Kim! Kang! Jun! Ooooh, run! Run like lightning! Kim! Kang! Jun!"

As Kim Kang-jun stepped up to the plate, his cheering song already started blasting. He'd crushed a homer in his first at-bat and put on a great show, so the cheer captain had whipped up a chant and was leading it early. Surprisingly, the fans were catching on, mimicking the song and the dance bit by bit. And there were fans decked out in jerseys with Kim Kang-jun's name on the back. He was definitely establishing himself as our promising star.

Kim Kang-jun led off again today and ripped a hit. Maybe spurred by that, No. 2 hitter Kang Hyun-jun followed with a hit of his own, igniting the bats from the first inning. Yoo Jun-han was out today, with Im Byung-yoon in center field. Our four rookie hitters—Kim Kang-jun, Kim Seong-ha, Kang Hyun-jun, and Im Byung-yoon—were in fierce competition to stand out.

On top of that, Han Hyun-ho had picked up the win yesterday, and today was Lee Ji-seung's first start.

"Hey, who's this Lee Ji-seung guy?"

"You don't know? He's the high school grad rookie we drafted in the strategy round."

"They really putting a kid like that out there?"

"He's good, so why not? Lee Jin-ho's got a great eye for talent."

The conversation between the two guys in front of me drifted back. They were die-hard fans traveling all the way to Changwon to cheer us on, and hearing their trust in me made me swell with pride.

"Woooaaah!!!"

With runners on first and second after Kang Hyun-jun's hit, No. 3 hitter Kim Seong-ha crushed a homer, giving us the lead right from the jump. Watching those '95 and '96 babies notch hits in a row sent a thrill through me.

Lately, the GM's attitude toward me had shifted dramatically. It was because the rookies I'd nurtured had leveled up big time.

After scoring three in the first, Lee Ji-seung finally took the mound. Our fans held their breath, watching him warm up. His velocity had climbed to 145 km/h now. He still only threw sliders besides fastballs, but his control was coming along nicely. In just five months, Lee Ji-seung had grown tremendously.

He still had plenty of growth left. Even so, raising his abilities this much from November to April—nearly five months—spoke volumes about chief coach Yi Cheol-gang and pitching coach Son Hyeok-su's skills. With Lee Ji-seung, the focus had been on basics, so I hadn't needed to intervene much. Now the notes were calling for curve and changeup instruction, so it was time to get involved.

There was probably some pressure for his first start, but he'd turned it into excitement. Gratitude toward me for trusting him with the rotation, too. His eyes shone clear, determined to live up to that faith.

Whoosh!Thwack!

Lee Ji-seung's pitch sliced through the air, thudding deep into the catcher's mitt. The first-pitch heat clocked 146 km/h, but more than that, the lively tail made it feel even faster. Kim Jong-hoo at the plate couldn't react. His face tightened—he looked rattled.

Lee Ji-seung fired the second pitch, same ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠course. Kim Jong-hoo swung late; the ball had already buried outside. He took a deep breath and threw again—same spot. Kim Jong-hoo's eyes flashed as his bat whipped forward. But the pitch tailed even sharper outside, drawing empty air. Three pitches, three strikes—Lee Ji-seung's first start, first K.

Against a lefty batter, the southpaw's stuff was plenty tempting. The catcher tossed the ball back to the dugout—commemorating the pitcher's first strikeout.

Lee Ji-seung kept the good vibes going after fanning the leadoff man. Unbelievably calm for a debut start. Even on contact—crack!—the ball died quick, sending batters back shaking their heads.

One K and two grounders later, he wrapped the first clean.

"Dude's a beast. Who is that kid?"

"Yeah, that ball's different. How's it just go like that?"

Even casual fans could see it—Lee Ji-seung's pitches looked special. From the mound to the plate, the ball's tail made it seem to float upward. The crowd roared for it. Up in the stands, my fists clenched tight. I'd built him up believing in those stats, and he was paying it back in spades.

The first flew by in a flash. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Watching baseball from the stands was a blast. That's when I noticed the menu and phone number sticker on the handrail.

"What's this?"

They even delivered to the seats. I'd heard chicken and beer hit different in the stadium, but delivery service? Wild. I pulled out my phone and ordered a chicken. Wanted a beer too, but hey, I'm the manager—couldn't be chugging while the team battled.

By the time I ordered, our bats were up again. Starting the second, Dinosaurs' Lee Hak-jae seemed refocused, retiring our 7-8-9 three up, three down. Game moving too fast—the chicken hadn't arrived, and it was Lee Ji-seung's turn again.

Up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠3-0, it turned into a pitchers' duel. Lee Ji-seung handled the second with another three-and-out. Right on cue, the chicken arrived.

I pulled down my mask to eat. Folks stared at the sunglass-guy munching, so I yanked my cap low and ditched the shades too. The drumstick steamed hot, wafting savory aroma. First bite—crisp fry giving way to juicy meat flooding my mouth. Stadium AC making it all the better. They weren't kidding.

"Woooaaahhh!!!"

Mid-bite, the away fans around me jumped up yelling. I stood baffled, chicken in hand—Kim Kang-jun had doubled on his next at-bat. Manager too busy eating to see his own guy go yard. Classic.

Kim Seong-ha answered right back with a single, scoring Kang-jun from second. Now I needed that beer. Spotted a vendor and waved one over. Drumstick in one hand, brew in the other, cheering amid the standing crowd. This was the fun of baseball. Especially watching my guys shine. And damn, that chicken and beer combo slapped.

Our bats exploding and Lee Ji-seung's gem—seven scoreless—pushed us to a four-game win streak.