The Coach's Proposal
The proposal team had already notched four straight wins. It wasn't just Dong-gun hyung and Young-hyun hyung, whom I'd advised—other pitchers were putting up great numbers too. And yesterday, Kang Si-hak, who was making his first appearance as a batter, had shown up. Si-hak was two years my junior. He had growth potential but hadn't properly broken into the first team yet. Since debuting, he'd only played in two games before enlisting, so now that he was back, he needed to train hard and develop.
I'd advised Si-hak to simplify his kicking motion and grip the bat a bit shorter. And today, he came in as a defensive sub in the seventh, then delivered a walk-off hit in the bottom of the ninth to lead the team to victory. Seeing Si-hak, who was named Player of the Game for the first time and broke down crying in his interview, nearly brought tears to my eyes too. I could fully empathize with how he felt.
Sigh... better clean this up...
I wondered if I was being too nosy. Sure, Dong-gun hyung and Si-hak had improved after my advice, but in the end, I was just a bullpen catcher. Even now, after the game, I was alone sorting through the scattered training gear. I had to categorize the players' bats and equipment one by one. Days as the second-team bullpen catcher, nights as the first-team one—that was my place.
Ding! My phone buzzed with a KakaoTalk while I was cleaning.
Chatting with Seon-ah brought a smile to my face. She was precious to me, always cheering me on no matter what, unwavering in her support for my situation. But thinking about her suddenly made the cleanup feel tedious—it was like staring my reality in the face.
"Jin-ho! What're you doing!"
"Ah! Coach. What brings you here."
"What brings me? You punk, your coach came to see your face."
Shin Hyun-kyung coach showed up out of nowhere. He was always kind to me, so it felt especially nice to see him. We'd been together from morning till evening, only parting briefly for the game.
"I'll finish up quick. Just give me a sec."
"Huh? Let me help."
Coach bent down to help sort things out.
"Ahh! No, you don't have to. Why's the coach doing this? I'll handle it. Just wait a bit."
"No time. Day's almost over. Let's hurry."
Despite my protests, Coach kept helping, and thanks to him, we wrapped up fast.
Once done, as I approached, he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "Jin-ho, wanna grab a drink tonight?"
"A drink???"
Sometimes when I was exhausted, I'd whine to Coach about buying me a drink, and he'd always do it without a word. Lately, though, I'd been too busy for even a meal with him, let alone drinks.
"Yeah. It's been ages—let's have one."
"Sure. As long as it's not too late..."
"Not thinking about tomorrow's training again, are you?"
Shin Hyun-kyung coach smiled softly at me.
"Well... yeah..."
Even I wasn't fully convinced I needed to keep up this training grind. But what could I do? I had to.
"You punk... Come on, let's go."
Coach perfectly read my mind and patted my back. His large hand brought a sense of stability.
Following him out of Daejeon Eagles Stadium, the streets were still bustling. Street food stalls were everywhere. With the come-from-behind walk-off win, fans were in high spirits, drinking away.
We stepped out, but among the crowds, few recognized us. Coach got occasional greetings since he'd played for the Eagles here, but no one knew me.
Thanks to that, we snagged seats at a stall without hassle. If we were popular players, we'd be mobbed for autographs on a night like this, but our obscurity let us relax quietly.
"Boss, one serving of braised eel and a bottle of soju, please."
Coach ordered and sat, then poured me a shot of soju that arrived soon after.
"How's it going? Manageable?"
"Yeah... sorta..."
"I mean... as a player. You really wanna keep going?"
His words hit my chest hard. I'd heard it before, but tonight it stung deeper. Si-hak had struggled like me without real playing time, subbing in after discharge and even hitting a walk-off. He was doing way better than me. Not that I wasn't jealous.
One day... me too...?
I fell silent, and Coach clinked his glass against mine. The soju burned sweet going down. Life was bitter enough that booze tasted sweet by comparison.
"Heard from Dong-gun. You been advising the players?"
Coach tossed it out casually, but to me, it landed differently. I wasn't in a position to advise.
"Ah... well... that is..."
"Whoa, not scolding you."
Seeing me deflate, Coach waved it off reassuringly.
"Then..."
"One more shot."
He started to say something but poured instead and clinked again. No food yet, and we were on our second.
"Whew... hits the spot."
Coach eyed me, chuckled, and continued. "I'll be straight: you got no talent. Pitcher, hitter—doesn't matter."
My heart twinged. Coach was like a big brother, so it hurt more. I knew it, but he'd never said it outright. He'd always encouraged me, sincere or not.
"I... know... but I can't quit..."
At 25, I'd chased this for over a decade. Others might say I was young, but high school and beyond were all baseball—no time to learn anything else. What could I even do outside?
"But here's the thing?" Coach smiled like he got it.
"You seem to have talent as a coach. Players improve after your advice, right?"
Huh...? Never crossed my mind. But yeah, the status windows were a huge edge.
"Build experience as a coach, maybe become manager someday. Who says managers need playing skills? Scout talent, develop players—that's enough. In the US, some start as pro managers without playing."
His words piled on, leaving my head spinning. Not as a player, but coach or manager...?
"I told the manager. How about coaching in the second army? Guide players openly, build a resume. Whether you play or your trainees do, team wins, right?"
That last bit—"team wins"—shook me.
"Uh... Coach... I've never thought about that... Can I have time to consider?"
"Course. Quitting as a player ain't easy after your baseball life. Think it over. Hard for me to say it too."
His big hand patted my back again, warmth conveying everything. It couldn't have been easy for him either, but he said it to help— even approaching the manager himself.
Clink! Glasses met once more.
"Gulp..."
Oddly, this soju tasted bitter. The first two had been sweet. Was it reluctance to quit, or life sweetening up? Either way, I kept clinking with Coach. We knew each other's hearts as comrades—mostly him consoling me. Lucky to have met someone like him...
Huh?
My head throbbed like it might split. We'd been drinking, but where...? Coming to, I was home. No memory of how much or how I got back.
"Ugh... what time...?"
Rummaging, I found my phone—not the time first, but four missed calls. It was 2 p.m. And it vibrated again.
Oh... shit...