Play Ball
The three of us left the manager’s office, gathered our gear, and boarded the team shuttle bus bound for Wonju Civic Stadium. Unlike the familiar Flyers Baseball Park, the exterior looked shabby—but the interior had been cleanly renovated, which left a strong impression.
—Crack!
—Crack!
When we stepped into the clubhouse, a player was already taking batting practice even though there was still plenty of time before the game.
“Hello, sir!”
True to our rookie status, we waited for the crack of the bat to stop before offering our greetings.
“Oh, yeah. Hello?”
The man inside the batting cage was the captain of the Wonju Flyers—Kwak Daehwi.
The Flyers had always been short on franchise stars. Whenever a good player emerged, he was traded for prospects right before free agency, or the team simply refused to spend the money once he hit the open market. In a franchise like that, Kwak Daehwi was the sole remaining symbol. Solid defense, reliable contact, and the power to clear the fence whenever he wanted. His legs weren’t especially fast, but his sharp baserunning instincts let him post a consistent .300 average with twenty home runs and twenty steals year after year. Fans even joked that he single-handedly carried the “Wonju Flyer” part of the team name.
The reason he stayed was pure love for the club. Born and raised in Wonju, Kwak Daehwi’s attachment ran deep. The story of him counter-offering at half his market value just to remain with the team was already legendary among the fans. On top of that, he never missed a single off-season of community service and donations, earning the title of a true franchise star in every sense of the word.
“Gyeongmo, long time no see. And you two are…”
Kim Gyeongmo had been with the organization long enough that Kwak recognized him immediately, but Kang Daegeun and Park Taejeong didn’t seem to ring a bell right away.
“I’m Kang Daegeun, second-round first pick in this year’s draft, sir.”
“Ah… hello… I’m Park Taejeong…”
“Ah, right, right. Sorry. I saw you guys at spring camp. Getting old—my memory’s starting to slip. Haha. Cut me some slack.”
Once Kang Daegeun and Park Taejeong introduced themselves, recognition clicked. Kwak clapped his hands and greeted them like old acquaintances.
“Daegeun’s an infielder, right? And Taejeong… ah, outfielder. Real glove man.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Th-thank you…”
While the original Flyers players exchanged greetings…
…
I stood quietly behind them with my head bowed. Seeing Kwak Daehwi’s face brought that day’s memories flooding back, leaving me both gloomy and strangely uncomfortable.
Then—
“Doyoon’s here too.”
“Ah, well…”
Kwak spoke to me. I awkwardly dipped my head. He read my expression for a second, then gave a small smile and lightly tapped my shoulder.
“Doyoon, don’t go sulking over that. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
He said it with a genuinely warm smile—nothing forced about it.
“I-I’m not sulking…”
Kwak threw an arm around my shoulders entirely.
“We’re on the same team now. Stop being so stiff. You send anything my way, I’ll snag it all. Got it?”
His easygoing charm loosened the knot in my chest.
“…Is that a promise?”
“Whoa, look at this kid. One error and he’s ready to flip the dugout, senior or not?”
When I met his eyes head-on, Kwak looked briefly surprised, then playfully thumped my shoulder.
“Still, I like the guts. Let’s do this.”
“Yes, sir. Looking forward to working with you.”
After greeting Kwak Daehwi, we all headed together to the manager’s office.
“Oh, Daegeun can play shortstop too?”
“Ah, shortstop is actually my primary position.”
“Oh, really? That’s a relief.”
Kwak nodded, looking pleased.
“We’ve been scrambling to fill shortstop ever since Seonyeop left. At my age, I just can’t handle short anymore~”
The original starting shortstop for the Wonju Flyers had been Kang Seonyeop. After he was traded away, Kwak Daehwi—originally a third baseman—had been forced to take over the position.
And the player they got in return for that trade was me. Ahem.
It wasn’t my fault, of course, but hearing a thirty-four-year-old veteran talk about how hard it had been covering shortstop still left me feeling a little guilty.
—Knock knock.
“Manager, mind if we come in for a moment?”
“Come in.”
The answer came from inside the moment Kwak knocked.
—Creak.
When we opened the door, Manager Jang Hojin welcomed us. It had been exactly two months since the developmental squad assignment—two months since I’d last seen the first-team manager.
“Ah, good. You came with Daehwi?”
Manager Jang nodded with a pleased look.
“Ran into him during batting practice.”
Kwak answered with a bright smile.
“So, did you and Doyoon make up?”
The manager glanced my way with a faintly amused smile.
“Nope. Doyoon threatened me. Said he’d kill me if I made an error.”
Kwak’s playful jab made Kim Gyeongmo snort with laughter beside us. Park Taejeong and Kang Daegeun, standing in front of the manager, looked frozen solid.
“Wh-when did I ever say that?!”
I waved my hands in frantic protest, but the mood had already run away from me.
“Hahaha. Doyoon’s got more fire than he looks. Last time, with me, he actually—”
“Ah—Manager. I was truly sorry about that. I just… lost my head for a second…”
It was obvious he was about to bring up the time I’d stared him straight in the eye and said, “I think this needs an explanation,” while throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go to the developmental squad. So I cut him off mid-sentence, manners be damned.
“Why? I actually liked it. A pitcher needs that kind of fire. Absolutely.”
Manager Jang finished teasing me and moved on to the main point.
“Anyway, congratulations on making the first team, all of you. We’re in last place right now, which is exactly why rookies like you need to breathe life back into this club. Don’t we owe it to the fans to fight until the very end of the season?”
He met each of our eyes in turn. That simple exchange of gazes steeled our resolve another notch.
“Park Taejeong, Kim Gyeongmo, Kang Daegeun. You three will start the week on the bench. Get comfortable with the seniors, build some chemistry, and then we’ll get you into games.”
“Yes, sir!”
All three answered at once, faces full of anticipation.
“And Han Doyoon.”
Manager Jang’s gaze settled on me. The gentle tone he’d used until now suddenly turned solemn the moment he spoke my name.
“Yes, sir.”
I could feel something important coming. Tension slowly filled my chest.
What was he about to say? I looked him straight in the eye, but he only smiled faintly.
After a deliberate pause, the words that left his mouth were—
“Next week. You’re starting Game One against the Wales.”
It was more than enough to stun me. It overflowed.
The instant I heard the name “Wales,” my heart slammed hard against my ribs.
My former team. The club I’d cheered for since childhood. The strongest team in the league, currently sitting in first place. My comeback start had been set against them.
“I won’t tell you not to feel the pressure. How could you not?”
The manager took a short breath, then continued in a firm voice.
“All I can say is this. Give it everything you’ve got. You can do it.”
“…Yes, sir. Understood.”
My mouth answered calmly, but my chest was already boiling. Every drop of blood in my body ran hot.
“Good evening, everyone. We’re coming to you live from Wales Park, home of the Seoul Wales. Today marks the fourteenth matchup of the season between the first-place Seoul Wales and the last-place Wonju Flyers.”
The broadcast camera slowly panned across the stadium. Under a sky that had slipped from late summer into early autumn, the rhythmic clash of cheering tools filled the air. The red-and-black of the Wales uniforms spilled from the home stands all the way into the visitors’ section, while the Flyers’ blue appeared only in scattered pockets of the away seats.
“Yes, looking purely at the standings this might seem like a one-sided affair, but today’s game carries a different kind of weight. The Flyers’ starter is none other than—”
The camera zoomed in on the dugout. A player with his cap pulled low stood with arms crossed, staring out at the field.
“Han Doyoon.”
“That’s right—Han Doyoon. Originally the Wales’ first-round tenth pick. He showed promise in his debut season, but after struggling through his third year he was traded to the Flyers midseason.”
The screen split. On the left, Han Doyoon’s set face; on the right, Kang Seonyeop standing at shortstop in a Wales uniform.
“That trade made quite a splash at the time. The Flyers gave up their starting shortstop, Kang Seonyeop, to bring him in.”
“Exactly. There was a lot of talk then. People said it was a completely one-sided win for the Wales, even whispered that cash must have changed hands under the table.”
“Right. And when Han Doyoon didn’t appear for nearly two months after the trade, the questions only got louder—‘Why on earth did the Flyers make that deal?’”
The camera returned to the field. The sky was clear, yet the diamond itself felt tense, almost bleak by contrast.
“That’s why today’s game is drawing so much attention. The Flyers have already locked up last place this season, but how Han Doyoon pitches today—that might be the last chance to rewrite the verdict on that trade.”
At that moment the home-plate umpire raised his hand high. The familiar cry rang out across the stadium.
“Play ball!”