Waiting (2)
Over those nine days, we endured some truly grueling times. The biggest blow was the gaping hole left by Seo Geon-cheol, our everyday second baseman. His torn ACL could mean season-ending if it was severe, and even in the best case, he'd need at least two months. Fortunately, the prognosis wasn't that bad—no full season out—but he was still far from recovery.
Kim Su-ji and Seo Dong-hun stepped up to compete for the backup role, but holding the line with just the two of them was the best they could manage. Seo Geon-cheol's absence was simply too massive.
The second issue was Kim Kang-jun's vacancy. Kang-jun's bat was top-tier even in the majors. Go Jong-hun showed solid hitting and baserunning. And that was it. Enough to patch the holes left by Seo and Kang-jun, but nowhere near replacing them fully.
Then there was our lack of a reliable fifth starter. With Song Young-shin, Ha Min-young, and Choi Tae-won, it was tough. The first four were solid, but for the fifth, we planned to pivot to long relief if things crumbled. If the fifth starter faltered early, we'd yank him quick and hand long relief to Ha and Choi. That approach was covering us, more or less.
Nine days later, the time came to call Kim Kang-jun back up to the majors. Unfortunately, Im Byung-yoon still needed more seasoning in the minors.
After calling up Kim Kang-jun to the bigs, I summoned him to the manager's office.
"You wanted to see me, Manager?"
Kim Kang-jun looked like he'd fully regained his confidence down in the minors. He'd been hitting .600 there, even earning jokes about being an invasive species disrupting the ecosystem.
Name: Kim Kang-jun
Age: 20
Position: Right-handed throw/bat, 1B, 2B (Optimal: 1B)
Stamina: 90/100
Current / Potential Ability: 48/93
Contact: 54
Power: 52
Plate Vision: 65
Baserunning: 53
Defense: 32
Intelligence: 33
Growth Potential: Explosive growth still possible.
Mental: Gained confidence in defense while learning it in the minors.
Note: Plate vision rising naturally with accumulated experience. Consistent majors games will boost it further.
His current ability had already climbed to 48. At that level, he could definitely hold his own in the majors. But Kim Kang-jun's 48 didn't feel like 48. His standout plate vision seemed to drag the rest of his skills along, creating unexpected synergy. Otherwise, how else to explain his standout major-league performances at that rating?
Overall stat growth mattered, sure, but having one elite tool could amplify the same current ability into something more potent.
What really shocked me looking at Kim Kang-jun, though, was the note. No special training needed—just piling on experience would keep raising his stats naturally. He'd lacked reps before, but now with a solid foundation, the gains would come organically. Especially plate vision, the toughest stat for players to improve.
We'd truly stolen a gem from the Eagles. I'd gotten him plenty of time at first base in the minors, plus work at second. So his optimal spot was 1B for now, but I'd use him as DH and 2B short-term. Once Seo returned, shift him to 1B and slide Park Byung-hyun to DH. We needed a contingency for Byung-hyun's eventual MLB departure. Kim Kang-jun's power looked promising enough already.
"Uh... Manager?"
Kim Kang-jun spoke up again as I stared silently at the status window.
"Huh? Oh, right. How was life in the minors?"
"Thanks to you, Manager, I learned a ton. I won't freeze up on defense in the majors now."
"Good. Between first and second, where do you feel more comfortable?"
"First base is easier for me."
I already knew he'd prefer 1B.
"Yeah? But stick at second until Seo comes back. We'll readjust positions after."
"Got it, Manager."
"Welcome back solid. Time to show 'em what you've got."
"Thank you! I'll head out."
Kim Kang-jun gave a crisp salute and marched out of the office. I was itching to get him in a game ASAP, to unleash the new-and-improved version.
...
May 12, 2015. Tuesday.
We boarded the bus for Busan. A three-game series against the Busan Giants awaited.
Road trips to Busan, Changwon, or Gwangju were a relief—they put us up in hotels. Places like Daejeon, Daegu, or Suwon meant busing home after night games, brutal on player stamina. Other teams booked hotels for most roadies, but we were strapped for cash, so short trips were round-trips by bus. Up at night, crash a bit, down the next day—it wore guys out.
At least long hauls like Busan forced hotel stays, making those roads preferable. Being broke showed everywhere.
Back at the opener, when Kim Kang-jun crushed a homer in his first at-bat, Chief Coach Yi Cheol-gang dropped the most shocking line.
"Kang-jun, drink all the ion drinks you want today."
I was baffled. Ion drinks? The stuff players chug from the dugout cooler nonstop? Then I spotted the lock on the ion drink fridge. My eyes went wide.
"Chief? What's that?"
"Uh... well..."
Yi Cheol-gang scratched his head. With skimpy team funding, they couldn't stock drinks freely. Stunned, I started buying them out of pocket, stocking the fridge full. Rookies shrugged it off, but the vets loved it—no more rationing sips, especially after strikeouts with a parched throat.
That simple fix? Skyrocketed morale. Some players' mental stats even noted: 'Manager lets us drink freely—feels great.'
We unpacked in the Sajik Stadium clubhouse. Before games, home team warms up first, gets more time—home-field advantage, obviously.
As our guys stretched, Giants manager Yeom Kyung-young approached. Players halted, bowing deeply. He was our ex-manager, after all.
I held him in high regard too. He'd stepped aside for me, and backed me publicly against Kim Geun-seong.
I approached and bowed.
"Senior, good to see you."
"Ah, you. Quite the splash you're making."
He greeted me warmly.
"You're too kind."
"How'd you think to convert Ji-seung to pitching?"
Lee Ji-seung was his draft pick, so his awe at the ace's success felt genuine.
"All hashed out with Chief Coach Yi Cheol-gang."
"Ever the humble one... We share a lot in common, you know?"
I nodded cautiously. Yeom hadn't been a star player. Yi Cheol-gang's resume outshone his, even if Yeom had major-league seasoning I lacked.
"True, manager and player roles differ hugely. No one dwells on your playing days anymore, but don't get hung up—hone your managerial chops. I'll be rooting for you."
He patted my back, greeted each player personally, then headed to his dugout.
No wonder they called him a master tactician. A few words, and he had you wrapped around his finger. A manager's gift. With him acknowledging me, I burned to prove myself. Just let the game start already.