The Veteran's Crossroads
June 14th, top of the 5th inning in the home game against the Memphis Aces. The score was 4-2, with the home team Nashville Ports leading. Roy Yoo, today's starting pitcher on the mound, glanced toward first and third base.
Two outs, runners on first and third. And they'd just given up a run on a single. A burdensome situation for any pitcher.
Memphis Aces' most threatening hitter, Kevin Green, had been called up to the majors. Of course, even without him, the Aces' lineup was still a powerhouse, one of the best in the minors—but the weight had lightened a bit.
Roy scanned the runners on base. His pickoff skills were well-known, so stolen base attempts had dropped off sharply.
He turned his head to the batter's box. The next hitter was settling into his stance, waiting for the pitch. Roy fired a quick-motion delivery.
Thwack!Whoosh.
A 96 mph fastball slammed straight into the mitt. The batter, who had swung at the first pitch, grimaced. Roy stared back with an expressionless face, preparing his next throw.
"What do you think?"
Manager Wedden asked Kevin, who was sitting off to one side of the dugout.
The inning ended without further runs, and the fielders returned to the dugout. Among them, Roy descended from the mound with the same unflappable look he'd had up there.
In response to the manager's question, Kevin said, "He's pitching well."
Starting with that simple assessment, he continued. "Especially in that jam just now—it was impressive. Not a hint of nerves."
"Strongest heart on our staff," Manager Wedden said with a low chuckle. "Crisis management on point?"
"It's not that Roy's particularly great at managing crises. He just doesn't let his composure crack, no matter the situation."
He always ran the game calmly. When runs had to be given up, he didn't obsess over a shutout—he surrendered what was inevitable and focused on the next pitch.
Manager Wedden considered that Roy's greatest strength.
"Doesn't he just ooze veteran savvy?"
At the manager's words, Kevin looked at Roy returning to the dugout and gave a wry smile. Veteran poise from a 20-year-old pitcher? Ridiculous. But there was no denying it—Roy, starting today, carried that seasoned air.
Is that what they call talent?
Kevin shook his head at the thought.
"Doesn't look like I have anything to offer him."
"Not in Roy's case," Manager Wedden nodded.
Kevin was a 36-year-old veteran pitcher. For a player with more gas in the tank, he'd fight to climb back up—but the organization didn't see enough left in him to warrant it. A fact Kevin himself acknowledged.
That was why Oakland had extended a hand. Needing a spot starter early-to-mid season, they'd signed him to a cheap FA deal with the promise of a graceful retirement on their terms.
So Kevin had fully expected the minor league demotion. With one foot out of the competition, his odds of a call-up were slim to none.
What, then, could he do in Triple-A? What a veteran could: mentor the kids.
"Kevin, get loose in the pen."
"Yes, sir."
Kevin nodded at Manager Wedden's order and headed to the bullpen.
A few days had passed since Kevin joined the Nashville Ports. His stats there weren't bad. No flash, but steady game management—he was a solid bullpen arm.
The relievers didn't see him as competition, though. His age made that clear. Rather than wariness, they viewed him as a font of wisdom, seeking advice and lessons.
Of course, some didn't bother asking Kevin anything...
Roy and Chamber, for one. Neither felt the need.
June 22nd. Roy started on the road. After giving up 3 runs through 6 innings, Chamber relieved him. The score was 4-3, win conditions met.
But Chamber imploded for 2 runs and got yanked. Enter Kevin.
The righty topped out at 89 mph, throwing a slider and circle changeup. He sighed lightly atop the mound.
That day, Kevin shut out the rest of the game through the 8th, picking up the win.
Even pitching like this, no way back up.
After the game, Kevin muttered to himself, eyeing Chamber packing up in the clubhouse.
If he could just stay cooler on the mound, he'd thrive as a closer in the majors.
With that thought, Kevin left the clubhouse for his lodging. Then his phone rang.
Checking the screen, he saw it was his agent and picked up with a puzzled look.
"Hello? What's up, Hamel?"
"Kevin. Solid outing today?"
-"What good's a good outing? I'm just a washed-up old timer on the retirement track."
Kevin gave a wry smile as he spoke. His agent replied,
-"Still set on retiring?"
"Yeah. Back in the day, I'd claw my way up no matter how far I fell... but at this age? Can't even dream of it."
Kevin chuckled self-deprecatingly. Hamel paused, then said,
-"A team wants you."
"What? Who?"
Kevin shot back in surprise. A team still after him, with his stuff fading?
-"Not a major league club."
"Indy ball?"
-"No, not a U.S. team."
"Hm?"
-"Incheon Warriors in Korea. They want you."
Kevin's face registered shock at the unexpected bombshell from his agent.
On the bus back from the road trip, deep in thought, Kevin approached Roy.
"Hey, Roy."
"Yeah?"
Roy looked up curiously as Kevin called him.
"Got a question."
"Shoot."
"The Incheon Warriors scouted me."
Incheon Warriors? Ho-seok's team.
"Heard you spent a year in Korea a couple years back."
"Yeah."
"Figured you might know something about it."
Roy paused thoughtfully at Kevin's question, then spoke.
"Korea's pro league is a single circuit with 10 teams. Foreign players come as mercenaries—pitchers usually sign as starters."
"Starter? Ha."
Kevin laughed, lacking confidence.
"If it's a scout offer, it came through your agent—ask him for details."
"..."
Kevin fell silent, then chuckled wryly.
"Told him no thanks."
He shrugged.
"Their Dominican guy's out for the season—injured. Needed a replacement, spotted me. But new country at my age? And as a temp? Passed."
"I see."
Roy nodded understandingly, went quiet, then said,
"You can still pitch, though, right Kevin?"
"Huh? Yeah."
"Isn't it a waste to retire?"
"What?"
Kevin blinked blankly at Roy's question.
"You can still throw—doesn't quitting feel like a shame?"
"Never thought of it that way."
Kevin smiled bitterly.
"But yeah, it does."
Never imagined getting life advice from a 20-year-old.
Silence followed, then Kevin spoke again.
"Sorry to bug you while you're resting."
He returned to his seat.
Tyrone, who'd been listening, said,
"What's Korea like from your view? Think Kevin could hack it?"
"Hard to say. Their league's no joke."
"Better to retire than grind overseas at his age, no?"
"Not that simple."
Roy smiled wryly.
"When retirement looms, players know best how tough it is. But regrets linger big-time."
And they call those regrets passion for the game. Especially for grinders like Kevin, hanging on day by day—retiring hits harder.
Wayne Coach watched Chamber seriously from the bullpen, practicing his throws.
Full slump lately.
Since collapsing on the road, Chamber had been shaky on the mound.
Hoped Kevin might steady him.
No change.
One big shake-up, and he crumbles.
Sure, plenty of major leaguers had that flaw. But Wayne wanted Chamber fixed ASAP.
Solve the mental side, and he's Oakland's next closer.
As Wayne thought that, Chamber finished and left the pen. Sitting to rest and wipe sweat, someone handed him a water bottle.
It was Kevin.