Interest!
It must have been about two months into the season.
Mid-May, give or take?
That was around when I started hearing that scouts had begun showing up at the ballpark.
After Jack told me Major League scouts were coming to watch me, I scanned the stands a few times, half-hoping I might spot one. No luck. Couldn't find a single one.
According to Jack, the first team to make a move was the San Diego Padres.
For some reason, that franchise and ours kept getting tangled up. First the sudden exhibition game, then Barnett coming over from San Diego to join us—and now they were interested in me, too.
"San Diego, though…"
The problem was, I wasn't exactly thrilled about it. A team that hadn't won a single championship in the sixty years since its founding? That stuck in my craw a little. And if that were the only issue, fine—but the way they ran the organization left something to be desired, too.
"You go there and win it for them."
Ho-min had said something about how if I went over, played ace, and delivered a title, I'd go down as a franchise hero. Or whatever.
"Me? Why would I bother?"
Hero, my ass. All I could see was a long, hard road ahead.
Honestly, part of me wanted to stay in Korea. Our owner was offering five billion won after taxes! What was the point of going to America for ten billion if more than half of it got eaten by the tax man?
But it probably wasn't going to happen that way. My promise to the Hooded Woman was that I'd go to the majors and make my mark. We hadn't signed a contract or anything, but a promise to her wasn't something I could break. She'd cut me off the pills in a heartbeat.
So I kept checking in with Jack on which teams had sent scouts. Looking at the ones that had shown real interest through the first half—San Diego, Colorado, Toronto, Miami, Milwaukee, and so on.
"The teams are kind of…"
"Not a single one that makes you go whoa the second you hear the name, right?"
"…Yeah."
"Same. It's just…"
Maybe it was because I hadn't been putting up big numbers for all that long. Instead of the big-market clubs everyone would recognize instantly, it was mostly small-market teams taking the lead.
"Once you get over there and play well, the money will come pouring in."
"I mean, yeah, probably…"
"What? Not feeling it?"
"Just… I don't know."
"So which team do you actually want?"
"Me? Hmm… San Francisco? Or Boston? Houston wouldn't be bad either."
"What's with all those teams…"
I knew exactly what Ho-min was thinking. I'd said them for the same reason.
The San Francisco Giants shared a division with the LA Dodgers—their fiercest rival and the strongest team in baseball. The Boston Red Sox? Need I say more. Sitting right there was the New York Yankees, the most popular team on the planet, the so-called Evil Empire. The Houston Astros, still catching flak worldwide for the sign-stealing scandal, shared a division with the massive Texas franchise.
In other words, every one of them had an absurdly powerful rival in their own division. And there was one more important fact: all three were big-market clubs in their own right. Teams that knew how to open the checkbook when it counted. Not every big-market team threw money around like confetti, but those three would spend when they needed to.
And compared to their division rivals, all three had the same soft spot—their ace. They had good players, sure, but when it came to a true ace, they felt just a half-step behind.
"So basically you want a team that'll treat you like an ace and pay you a fortune?"
"……If I'm going anyway, I might as well get paid."
He was asking the most obvious thing in the world.
The first half had been a little disappointing—not because of my performance, but because of the level of interest from Major League clubs.
Then, not long ago, I ran into Jack with nothing particular on my mind and got some new information.
"Chris McHale wants Kang Hajin."
"????"
"……."
"Who's that?"
"The general manager of the Yankees."
"Oh-ho~"
The Yankees? Out of nowhere? More importantly—
"He said he wants me?"
"Yes. Those were his exact words."
"Which means…"
"It means they intend to participate in the posting."
"……"
Wasn't that completely out of left field? Interest was flattering and all, but—
"Why?"
The Yankees were last season's World Series champions. This year they were sitting comfortably in first place in their division. The strongest title contender going. A team that had built a flawless roster on both sides of the ball—pitching and hitting—and suddenly they wanted me? Did they even have a roster spot?
"Hmm…"
"Not to your liking?"
"It's just a little…"
Something about it rubbed me the wrong way, though I couldn't put my finger on why.
And that was when things really took off.
"The Cubs have started showing interest as well."
"Is that so?"
"Houston this time."
"……"
"Boston."
"……"
"The Rangers."
"……"
What the hell was going on? Had I done something that spectacular?
The big-market clubs that had been quiet all this time were suddenly lining up one after another. And when I sealed my fifteenth win of the season with a shutout in my final July start, that interest exploded even further.
Then a team that had been silent until now finally stepped forward.
"Word is the LA Dodgers have dispatched someone as well."
"……"
What on earth was happening here?
Two years ago I'd been traded to the Savers and made a bit of a splash as a closer. Last year I'd converted to a starter and gone two-way, and this was only my second season doing it. Before that, I'd been such a nobody that even some Dragons fans wouldn't have known my name.
I'd figured a move to the majors was possible. I just never imagined this many teams would be sniffing around.
"But the season's still going. Is it okay for them to be this aggressive already?"
"Yes."
"……???"
Apparently it was. If Jack said so, then it was fine.
I could see them now. The scouts. Any foreigner who looked a little out of place among the roaring fans—that was a scout, no question.
"Quite the crowd again today."
Jeong Jong-seong was behind the plate in the catcher's mask. The kid's bat had been on fire lately. Ko Mandeok still had the edge in pure catching stability, but Manager Park couldn't bring himself to bench Jong-seong's hitting, so he'd been splitting the starts almost fifty-fifty.
"Yeah."
"You're not nervous, hyung?"
"I don't know… not really?"
Honestly, I felt completely flat about it. If the scouts had just shown up for the first time and I'd spotted them, maybe my pulse would've jumped. But according to everyone, these guys had been coming for a while. I'd only just started noticing them. Why get worked up now over people who'd been watching me the whole time without my knowing?
And there was another reason I wasn't nervous: our opponent was the Dragons, currently sitting in last place by a mile.
As if things weren't bad enough for them, Choe Hojung—pretty much the only guy in their lineup who still looked like a real hitter—had gone down with an injury not long ago. The articles said he'd gotten hurt during training, but word on the street was he'd been drinking. On top of that, their foreign hitter was gone too. Officially released for poor performance, though from what I'd heard there had been issues with the manager. Probably Min Gucheol pulling his trademark old-school nonsense on a foreign player.
So the two hitters you actually had to watch out for were both out of the picture. Sure, you could still get burned if you got careless, but—
"Honestly, I'm not worried at all."
A lineup this soft? In this day and age?
Today's game had another attraction, too. Second base. Jo Chang-jun was coming back from injury. While he'd been out, Shane had slid over to third and the rookie Park Chung-ho had been filling in at second—the whole defensive alignment had been shuffled around. Today, that could finally end. Assuming Chang-jun looked like his old self, of course.
He didn't disappoint.
Top of the first. The game started, and I got two outs on three pitches. The first ball was hit toward second, and Chang-jun glided over with light feet and handled it cleanly. Two outs in a blink, and into the three-hole—Choe Hojung's old spot—stepped Kim Tae-gyeong.
Kim Tae-gyeong… he'd been a decent player once. A shortstop with some pop. But after a knee injury ended his season the year before last, or whenever it was, he'd never looked the same. His range had shrunk dramatically, and more than anything, there was no authority left in his swing. The fact that they still had him batting third said everything about how thin the Dragons' roster was right now.
The sign came from Jeong Jong-seong. First pitch, second, third—all the same call.
Swing and a miss—strike three! Kang Hajin punches out Kim Tae-gyeong on three straight four-seam fastballs. Helpless against a 160 km/h heater. We'll be right back for the Savers' half of the first.
Bottom of the first. Jo Chang-jun stepped in as the leadoff hitter, back in his old spot at the top of the order. The opposing pitcher was Na Hong-gi—a pure fastball guy, and our opponent for the day.
Chang-jun was a hitter with an absurd eye and elite bat control. Two weeks on the shelf wasn't nearly enough to dull that.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"He's going to wear the guy out in the first inning at this rate."
Leading off, fouling off everything that caught the zone. So was he working a walk? Not quite—he was fouling off the borderline stuff too. We were already on pitch nine.
"Ball."
He finally laid off one that sailed way outside and jogged down to first. Even from the dugout, you could see Na Hong-gi's face twisting.
And then—
Crack!
Crack!
Back-to-back singles from Ko Young-su and Park Jeonghun.
"What is that? He's just throwing it right down the middle."
"Maybe he can't locate, so he's trying to induce contact?"
"And his solution is nothing but middle-middle heaters?"
Na Hong-gi's whole thing was that wild, unpredictable command of his. Abandoning it to pump the ball down the heart of the plate meant he was getting tattooed every single pitch.
"Ohh… could it be?"
I was starting to get my hopes up when—
"Ball. Ball four."
He walked the captain.
"Gets hit throwing it down the middle, so now he's throwing balls."
Na Hong-gi's garbage command was hitting peak form today. I doubted a single pitch was going where he wanted it.
"The fact that he's still pitching at his age with that kind of control is honestly amazing."
Yeah… hard to argue with that.
Na Hong-gi's pitch found the zone again.
"Foul!"
Shane put a real swing on it, and the ball just barely hooked outside the foul pole. Must have scared the living daylights out of the guy, because the next four pitches were all balls. Shane walked, too.
"Well now~"
Bases loaded, nobody out—and my turn at the plate.