Preparing to Soar (1)
“·····”
Lee Hajun stared down at his own hand after smashing the fastball of Shim Jaehun, one of the premier closers representing Korean professional baseball.
The ball was famous for its sheer weight, and connecting with it left his palm still tingling.
Of course, it was not an unpleasant sensation.
It wasn’t particularly difficult.
It had not only been Shim Jaehun’s heavy fastball; even the full-effort pitches from the other bullpen arms had once felt like disasters to Hajun.
This time, though, he had cleanly tracked Shim Jaehun’s pitch and met it square in the sweet spot of the bat.
Before, when pitchers who trusted their fastballs would fire them in with everything they had, he had not even dared to think of hitting them.
“Hoo·····”
Hajun steeled himself.
He had clearly changed, and he would keep changing.
But he could not lean on that alone.
In the end, the one actually playing the game was himself.
Paaang-!
“Strike out!”
The game was over.
Just like that, a 4–2 victory for the Daegu Warriors.
As the leadoff hitter, Hajun had created a scoring chance with a runner on second and no outs, yet the batters who followed failed to bring the speedy runner home.
Shim Jaehun, closer for the Daegu Lions who were battling for the pennant race title.
His second-team outing today: one inning, one hit allowed, three strikeouts, no runs.
A line no one could question.
“Good work out there!”
Players from both sides exchanged greetings.
“Whoa, you’re not even up in the first team yet and you’re throwing full power like that?”
Ji Gyeongjun, second baseman for the losing Hawks, said.
“I’m scheduled to return before the All-Star break, but·····”
Shim Jaehun watched Lee Hajun walking away in the distance.
That kid must have taken it to heart.
As far as Ji Gyeongjun knew, Shim Jaehun was a pitcher with fierce confidence in his fastball.
Without that kind of confidence no one could hold the grueling closer’s role in professional baseball, and it was even more true for Shim Jaehun, whose fastball usage rate ran unusually high.
“When we train together, that guy’s swing looks pretty good.”
“What? Isn’t he just a pinch runner?”
“I wouldn’t know, but he’s definitely good. You saw it today—his defense is no joke either.”
Ji Gyeongjun spoke with an easy smile.
The kid was not a competitor for his own position, and he was at an age and career stage where he could simply enjoy watching a young, promising junior.
The listener, however, felt differently.
Coincidence····· no?
It had not been lucky timing that produced contact; he had attacked my fastball with that sharp hitting ability?
Even the league’s best hitters struggle when my fastball is properly located.
A specialist pinch-runner had beaten my pitch with pure skill.
That was an impossible statement for Shim Jaehun.
“·····”
He could not accept it.
For now, though, Shim Jaehun would wait for the day they met again.
The closer’s job was not one where confidence alone could carry you.
“Haa·····”
Park Taesik, manager of the Daejeon Hawks, let out a deep sigh.
He had not yet turned fifty, yet the gray in his hair was spreading faster than among his peers.
He had never been a superstar, but he had enjoyed a solid career of nearly ten years as the starting second baseman for the Daejeon Hawks in his prime.
He had steadily built coaching experience in Japan and the United States before returning home.
Then, as a first-team coach, he had contributed to back-to-back championships for the Gwangju Kings.
After the Hawks successively fired managers, he had been appointed to the top job.
He had taken the post amid cheers from every Hawks fan, yet those cheers were turning into doubts as summer wore on.
The Daejeon Hawks, who had underperformed last season when their new home stadium debuted, were still scraping the bottom under the new manager this year.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
Creak.
“Coach Yoo, what’s the sudden matter?”
Park Taesik raised his head as he spoke.
No matter how close they were, the captain of a team could not afford to show weakness.
“I have something to report about the second team right now.”
“Didn’t we already talk about Gyeongjun earlier? He said his body is fine.”
“It’s not about that Gyeongjun kid.”
“Huh?”
There were no particular players he was watching carefully in the second team at the moment.
The recent draft prospects were being developed according to plan, and the left-hander Jin Yeongil acquired in the trade had already been called up to the first team.
“Here’s the report.”
“·····”
The subject of the report Park Taesik was reading was Lee Hajun, the young infielder who had come over in the recent major trade.
When starting pitcher Park Dohyun had shown poor body management, Park Taesik had firmly proposed a trade to the general manager; this young infielder had arrived as part of the package that moved him out.
“The hitting and defense he shows in training are extraordinary. Especially the defense—good enough to call up to the first team right away. Hitting has high competitiveness at the shortstop position·····”
Park Taesik wore a puzzled expression even as he read.
The second-team manager and coaches of the Hawks were trustworthy people.
Yet could they all be offering such unanimous praise?
“Extremely diligent, training late into the night, serving as a role model for the young players. Haha, well·····”
If the kid were truly that caliber, there was no way Park Taesik would not already know.
He prided himself on analyzing players more thoroughly than anyone else in the professional baseball world.
Moreover, if he were that good, why would the Lakers have traded him?
From the information he already possessed and the earlier reports that had come up, Lee Hajun was merely a pinch runner with no real talent for hitting at the professional level.
His defensive ability had never been considered significant because the innings he had played were too few.
“Interesting. Interesting.”
“He’s started appearing as a starter recently and has multi-hit games in two consecutive contests.”
“Well, of course they’d recommend him if he’s producing results in games.”
“And Manager, that kid’s main position is·····”
Lee Hajun was a shortstop.
Exactly the position that seemed cursed for the Daejeon Hawks right now.
Every player they put there suffered injuries and slumps.
A few years earlier the shortstop Bae Hojun the Hawks had signed had been called overpaid from the start; now he was showing weak hitting more suited to a backup.
Moreover, Oh Jeongmin and An Junpyo, who had competed for the starting shortstop job until two or three years ago, were falling further short of expectations by the day.
What am I supposed to do with this?
Park Taesik crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.
He was a man who believed in data. And the vast majority of baseball players had their limits and the right fit for them.
He already did not see Lee Hajun as more than a pinch runner. From the beginning the kid had not been his pick but a resource that came along during the general manager’s negotiations.
From what he had assessed, Lee Hajun’s hitting ceiling was absolutely not a level that could survive in professional baseball—a hitting talent that looked even bleaker for the future than the present.
If there was ever a chance to call him up to the first team, he planned to use him as a pinch runner and defensive backup.
He had reached that conclusion, yet·····
“No. No.”
Giving him at-bats and defensive innings by calling him up to the first team to this extent was unreasonable.
Even though the shortstops were not to his liking, fortunately the entire professional baseball was suffering from a drought of shortstops who could hit.
“Let’s watch a bit more.”
“Mm····· Understood.”
The words of Park Taesik, who held more absolute authority than managers on other clubs.
And so the cheerful report from the second-team coaching staff ended in a hold.
Thwaaack-!
Balls flew sharply and evenly off the bat to left, center, and right.
“Looking good again today?”
“·····”
Ji Gyeongjun approached Hajun, who was taking pre-game practice.
For the past several days the two of them had been forming the keystone combination.
Thwaaack-!
“I still have a long way to go.”
Even to the words of senior Ji Gyeongjun, Hajun kept his focus locked on training.
In truth his head was so full of growth and the first-team call-up that he could spare attention for nothing else.
I have to go up quickly.
The All-Star break was not far off now.
If he failed to at least make an impression before then, he could not guarantee what would happen afterward.
No matter how hard you struggle, opportunities are given by people.
“Here.”
“Ah·····”
After finishing training and waiting for the game, Ji Gyeongjun handed Hajun a drink.
“Thank you.”
Gulp gulp.
Hajun immediately chugged the electrolyte drink.
The product’s taste could not have changed, yet strangely it tasted sweeter today.
One spoonful of higher-intensity training than before.
One spoonful of expectation for the future.
Invisible sugar had been mixed in.
“The Lakers are pretty tough over there, right?”
“Haha·····”
“Donghyun’s there, and Jincheol’s doing well too.”
Go Donghyun, the shortstop called the heart of the Lakers.
Woo Jincheol, the utility infielder who had continuously threatened his position and shown explosive growth over two years.
Because of those two it had been hard for Hajun to receive many defensive innings.
To make matters worse, Park Jisu—who had now changed uniforms to the Hawks—had been firmly holding the remaining infield backup spots at the time.
“Yes, that’s probably right.”
“I also feel stifled looking at their lineup when we play the Lakers.”
“That’s right. Even when they won the championship, their lineup was no joke.”
“They just beat everyone with pure bats.”
Ji Gyeongjun spoke while drinking his own beverage.
As a high-school graduate who had been the starting second baseman for the Gwangju Kings in his first year, Ji Gyeongjun could not fully understand Hajun’s position.
Yet the years and experience he had already piled up were more than enough to encourage a junior who seemed full of potential.
Yeah. Survive somehow.
Ji Gyeongjun cheered for Hajun inwardly.
Personally he hoped a hardworking kid would receive even a little recognition.
Thwaaack-!
“Huh?”
Thud!
“·····”
Hajun, whose batting order had risen from the day before, stroked another single.
“Whoa, Hajun’s really heating up.”
“Shouldn’t he go up to the first team while he’s hot right now?”
“He’s just sitting on it and hitting?”
“Earlier he hit the sinker with the grain, and this time he pulled the curve right back.”
The coaches murmured among themselves.
The second-team players were simply bewildered by this suddenly appeared presence.
What the hell is this, really?
Watching Hajun, who was currently three-for-three in today’s game, Ji Gyeongjun began to wonder whether he himself was the one who needed the encouragement.