Endurance Training (2)
From that day on, the woman struck up a conversation every time I came to the gym.
"I was just going to phone it in today… but seeing you makes me want to push harder for some reason."
"The season's over and you're still working out every day? Do most baseball players do that? Or is it… just you, Doyoon?"
"Are you free after your workout? There's a decent brunch place nearby, and I feel weird going alone…"
At first I brushed her off with halfhearted replies. Answer a few times, draw a clear line, and she'd get the hint and stop—or so I figured.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Everyone works hard. It's our job."
"Sorry. The team manages my diet."
But that wasn't how it went.
Even when I stuck to one-word answers, she refused to back off. She didn't press her body against me or try for physical contact the way she had at our first meeting, but the impression from that day lingered, and the conversations themselves kept feeling oppressive. Drawing the line every single time was becoming its own kind of stress, so I finally decided to change where I worked out.
"…So that's why you dragged me out first thing in the morning?"
"Hehe. I'll only use it a little. This place is just the most comfortable for me."
My senior snorted like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Comfortable, sure. Except for the part where I'm the one stuck dealing with you."
Even as he grumbled, he set out cones at twenty-meter intervals, one by one.
"Still, you did the right thing. There are a lot of people like that these days. They want to walk around saying, 'I'm a baseball player's girlfriend~,' so they go after young players who don't know any better."
"Wait, people like that actually exist?"
"Yeah. Kids like you right now are the perfect target. I don't know if that woman is one of them, but you're just starting to get real attention. Getting tangled up in some girl problem won't do you a single bit of good. Save dating for later."
"Yes, sir."
He shifted another cone, then glanced at me and twisted his face into a scowl.
"Aigoo, seriously. After all this help, at least promote me a little. I need to pick up some students too."
"How much good would my promotion even do?"
"Huh? Kid, do you not know how popular you are these days?"
"Me?"
"You don't look at the internet?"
"Uh… yeah, I barely look at it."
I'd cut myself off from the internet entirely after the doping scandal. I knew the controversy had died down, but I had no desire to go digging. If there was anything good being said, I heard plenty of it from fans after games. Besides, one insult always sticks longer than ten compliments. Even if I didn't go looking for it, the internet was a place where that one comment could find me—so I kept my distance.
"Then take a look at this."
He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and held the screen out toward me. A YouTube video started playing.
"…What is this."
Melancholy music played as familiar scenes flashed by without a moment to breathe.
The Phoenix Flag final. Me collapsing on the mound, clutching my elbow. The games after my return, when I'd lost my velocity and got hammered by hitters. Then the trade announcement, and the moment my uniform changed.
Every single one was a scene I never wanted to relive.
Then the music cut out and the screen went black. When the video resumed, the entire atmosphere had shifted.
"Two months later, his return game—and in his first start after the trade, Han Doyoon retires the side in order against his former team!"
"Oh, Han Doyoon means business today. One-fifty-seven from the first inning."
"Swing and a miss! Strikeout! Bottom of the fifth, Han Doyoon escapes a bases-loaded jam!"
The music changed, and my highlights rolled on with the commentary. The ball slamming into the catcher's mitt. Batters spinning through empty swings. The roar erupting from the stands.
And then—
"Haha… I see. So does that mean you can keep showing this kind of stuff going forward?"
"Yes. That's right."
The video closed on the interview from my return game—me grinning with absolute conviction as I answered.
Runtime was about five minutes. It was a surprisingly polished, surprisingly moving account of how I'd fallen and how I'd climbed back up. Sure, the midsection where I lost my velocity and got lit up by hitters was exaggerated beyond reality—I looked like a total washout—but I could write that off as seasoning for the emotional arc.
And that final scene… the interview. It's a little embarrassing to say about myself, but even I had to admit it looked cool as hell.
"Check the view count."
I looked back down at the screen.
"O-over a million?"
"Yep. Your popularity exploded after this dropped. Touching story, actual talent, and a face that's, well… ahem."
He clearly couldn't bring himself to compliment my looks, so he trailed off into a cough.
"Anyway, promote our center for me. If you put the word out, it's an instant hit."
"I'd love to, but I don't do social media."
"We'll film it later and upload it to my account."
"Oh, like that? Fine by me. You should've said so earlier. I already felt bad coming here for free every day."
I agreed without much thought, and his expression lit up noticeably.
"Okay. Then train hard and head out. I'll handle the cleanup."
It was an unusually warm, affectionate tone I'd never heard from him before. The fact that he was this happy over one promotional video was so funny I couldn't help letting out a snort of laughter.
I laughed, then started training like nothing had happened.
After that, Endurance Training — Normal wrapped up without incident, and I collected the reward.
Position: Starting Pitcher
– Stuff: 65
└ Fastball: 70+5
└ Slider: 60
└ Changeup: 50
└ Cutter: 60+5
– Movement: 60
– Control: 65
– Stamina: 70
– Pickoff: 55
I'd been a little worried the reward box might spit out the 20% failure option, but luckily the 80% success hit and my Stamina rose to 70.
And there was more good news: I hadn't been called up for the finishing camp.
Looking back, it made perfect sense. Finishing camp was the pro equivalent of after-school makeup classes. It was for players who needed adjustments, or whose spot on next season's first-team roster was still up in the air. I'd been summoned every year since turning pro, so I'd just assumed I'd be called again this time too.
But after only four starts, I'd proven myself the most dominant arm on the team and all but locked down a spot in next year's starting rotation. There was no reason for me to sit through "makeup class."
I considered knocking out the remaining Growth Center sessions with the free time, but with a proper rest period finally on my hands, I decided to take it easy. I only had one session left anyway, and there was no rush to clear it now.
I'll just knock it out during spring camp.
I played the games I'd been wanting to play, slept as much as I wanted, and did only the bare minimum of exercise, coasting through a leisurely winter—until one day.
Bzzzt!
In the middle of a lazy gaming session, my phone suddenly buzzed.
I'd heard for years that before the season started, the veteran players would take younger guys along when they went to get in shape ahead of spring camp. Apparently the Wales had that culture too.
But I'd never been the one invited.
My first season I was rehabbing an injury, so that was fair enough—but in my second and third seasons, not a single senior had ever extended that kind of offer. I'd been envious of the guys who got invited, and if I'm honest, a little hurt wondering why it was never me.
The reason was obvious, though. Back then I was just a mediocre prospect whose ceiling had been cut in half.
But this team was different.
This time, the captain himself—Kwak Daehwi—had reached out and asked if I wanted to join early before spring camp. It might have been just one ordinary sentence. But to me, it was a kind of message I'd never received before. Honestly, it moved me a little.
I didn't even need to think about the answer. Of course it was yes. After a short wait, a group chat invite came through along with a message.
The group chat had Kwak Daehwi, Gang Junseong, Kang Daegeun, Kim Gyeongmo, and Park Taejeong. From the looks of it, Kwak Daehwi was running the position-player group while Gang Junseong handled the pitchers.
Light banter bounced around and the group chat loosened up naturally. Even just reading the text, the warm atmosphere came through, and I felt myself warming up along with it.
I checked the schedule. Departure was January 5th. No problem.
Even after sending the reply, I couldn't take my eyes off that group chat for a while. Nothing special was being said. No grand promises were written down. Just idle small talk going back and forth.
And yet I kept looking.
The fact that I'd reached a place where someone would casually call me over and say, "Let's get ready together." The fact that this year, I wouldn't have to build my body alone in silence.
I stared blankly at that group chat until the reality of it fully sank in.