The General Has Entered
"Ah… there it goes."
It was the morning of a rest day. The moment I woke up, I flipped on a Mirae Savers game for the first time in a while.
The Mirae Savers were sitting in third place so far this season. Michael Len, back from injury, was leading the league in wins and looking completely reborn. Roman Marte, who'd successfully re-signed as expected, was holding down the number-two starter spot and solidly backing Michael up.
The rest of the rotation, though — Hwang Chan-young, Lee Yong-hun, Jang Hak-yeon, and the other domestic starters — had been a little disappointing compared to last year. On top of that, closer Kang Chanjung's velocity had dropped from last season, and he'd been looking shaky more often than not.
The bullpen was a different story. The four middle relievers — Oh Gyu-shin, Kim Geun-su, Hyeon-bin, and Min Gyeong-hak — had been locking things down with ironclad reliability.
And then there was the lineup. Park Jeonghun had completely exploded this year, the captain was as steady as ever, and Shane — who'd somehow gotten even bigger — rounded out a middle of the order that was absolutely on fire. Behind them, Ko Mandeok and Jeong Jong-seong were holding things down, and Ju Yang-gyu, who'd earned the starting job this season, was playing well too.
Thanks to all that, they were clinging to third and threatening second place. The Raiders had locked up first early and were basically untouchable, but everyone figured second was still within reach.
The game I was about to watch was against the Stars — the second-place team that had suddenly gone completely insane this year.
The second I turned it on, a clean, screaming line drive flew across the screen. I checked the score: bottom of the third, already down 4–0.
"I got up early on my day off just to watch this…"
The temptation to shut it off, crawl back over to Han Song-yi, and go back to sleep was strong — but I held out. Looking at Ko Mandeok's face as he ripped off his mask and started yelling…
"Not even a year and the guy's aged…"
Was it because I hadn't seen him in a while? He somehow looked older. A few more wrinkles on his face, too. Was he under that much stress?
I remembered something he'd said the last time we talked on the phone.
"People got their expectations sky-high after two straight championships. They can't be satisfied with where we are now."
That was the story. The Savers had been perennial bottom-dwellers — but two consecutive titles had jacked everyone's standards so high that even third place wasn't good enough. Apparently they were getting more abuse now than when they'd been stuck at the bottom of the standings. And of course, according to them, it was all my fault. Win them championships and still get the blame. What more did they want from me?
Hwang Chan-young, today's starter, gave up one more hit but managed to get out of the inning without further damage. The reason that guy was struggling this year compared to last was his command. As a lefty without overpowering velocity, he'd always lived on pinpoint control and clever pitch sequencing. For some reason, though, he'd spent the offseason focused on adding velocity. He'd gained a little, sure — but his command had completely fallen apart. He'd realized too late and tried to dial the velocity back down to find his control again, but that was easier said than done. No choice — he just had to throw through it this year.
Ko Mandeok had cursed him out something fierce over it. Said the idiot had gone off chasing something that was never going to work and made everyone's life harder. If he was complaining that much to me, I could only imagine what he'd said to the guy's face.
Crack!
Park Jeonghun!! Park Jeonghun launches one that clears the wall by a mile! The Savers, who gave up four runs first, are starting their comeback!
If I had to name someone who'd transformed as dramatically as I had in a single moment, it might be that guy. A man finally reaping the rewards of years of quiet, relentless training.
Come to think of it, Ernie Witt had been the same last game. That beautiful go-ahead home run…
I liked players like that. Maybe because they did the things I couldn't. I'd changed overnight too, but that was a different story entirely…
"Yaaawn… You watching?"
The whole reason I'd decided to watch this game today was because of this guy. Ho-min had insisted we watch together, saying today's matchup was critical for the Savers — and yet he'd gotten up later than me and was only just now showing his face.
"……Yeah. Watching."
"They're losing, huh? Figured as much. The rotation's been getting outpitched."
"……You figured they'd lose and still insisted we watch?"
"What, you don't watch your team just because you think they're gonna lose?"
Well, no. If every team that looked like a loser actually lost, the Dragons would go 0–144.
"Just sit back and watch. Your big brother's here now — they're about to start catching up."
"…It's morning and you're already talking nonsense. Shut up and go get me something to drink."
"Just watch, I'm telling you. The captain's about to lead off with a hit."
The words had barely left his mouth.
Crack.
"……"
"See that? Told you he'd hit."
"The captain hits one out of every three at-bats. Big deal."
"No faith. All right, now first and third."
Crack.
"……"
"Our boy Shane's about to hit a fly ball."
Pop.
"……"
What the hell was this? Had something possessed this bastard?
"They won't quite tie it. They'll scratch across one more run, though."
And just as Ho-min said, when the inning ended, the score was 4–3.
"I'm being serious — if a general spirit has entered your body, go back to Korea right now."
With predictive power this sharp, he'd make a better living as a fortune-teller than a data analyst.
"When you do enough analysis, you start seeing the outcome of a game before it happens. That's all it is. Credit the keen insight of a highly capable analyst, if you will?"
I gave him an inch and this was what I got.
"What a load of absolute bullshit."
"Just watch. From here on out, this game's gonna get messy. Both sides are putting up double digits."
"……"
"Wanna bet?"
"……Ah, no."
The gleam in his eyes told me that was a bet I absolutely could not take. Had something actually gotten into this guy?
And the game is tied once again. How many times is that now? Runs scoring every single inning. The score sits at 12–12. We're in the bottom of the eighth, and there's absolutely no predicting which team will come out on top.
What a fantastic game today. Both bullpens rank first and third in the league — absolute powerhouses — and yet neither side has managed a scoreless inning.
Top of the ninth. Savers closer Kang Chanjung is coming in. He did pick up a save last time out, but he allowed two runs and looked shaky doing it. Let's see what kind of outing he has for us today.
"Told you, didn't I?"
"……"
Okay, now I was starting to get a little scared. What the hell was going on?
"S-so. Who do you think's gonna win?"
"The Stars."
"Why?"
"Kang Chanjung's delivery is completely broken. He's been hanging on through pure experience."
"……For real?"
"Looks like he's hurt… like he's forcing himself to throw."
"No way. The manager's not the type to just sit there and watch that…"
"I don't know. Just a feeling. What am I, a fortune-teller? A doctor? Why do you keep asking?"
What was he talking about? He'd been channeling spirits this whole time.
"Then is there any point in watching the rest of this?"
"If the manager pulls him early, who knows."
"No way. You don't yank a closer like that."
"One run. If he gives up one run and gets pulled, anything's possible."
"……"
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
He really did give up exactly one run. Runners on first and second, one out. And then, for the first time in a while, I saw the manager walking out of the dugout toward the mound.
"That's our manager. Pulls him right away."
What even was this? Had Ho-min always been this much better than I gave him credit for? No — even if he was that good, nailing every single score like this? That was impossible.
"Uh… Master Seer…"
"…What is wrong with this lunatic."
"How are our Red Sox looking this year?"
"…We'll win it all."
"Really?"
"Is there even a team that can touch us? We're the clear number one."
"No, not that. What you think… I mean, what does the General say?"
"The General…"
"Or is it the Child Spirit?"
General or child spirit, something had clearly entered him. There was no other explanation.
"What about the Asian Games?"
"That's obvious to anyone looking, isn't it?"
"Yeah, fair…"
"Tsk. Enough."
"Uh… then… what about me?"
"What about you?"
"Like a Cy Young, or MVP…"
"……Probably tough."
Huh?
"Really?"
"Well…"
After everything I'd done? And I was going to keep doing it? And that still wasn't enough? Was it because it was my first season?
"You'll take Rookie of the Year, at least."
"……"
Fucking quack.
Bottom of the twelfth. The Savers' final at-bat. Runner on second, two outs. At the plate, pinch hitter Jeong Jong-seong.
"Man, they're making this hard on themselves."
"…They won?"
"Yep."
"No fucking way?"
"Yeah. Can't you just tell by looking?"
"There are two outs."
"I'm telling you they won. It's a base hit. A hit."
"……"
Crack!
Jeong Jong-seong!! A base hit drops into left-center! The runner from second touches home! After more than four hours, this game is decided in the bottom of the twelfth!
"Okay, now I'm actually starting to get scared."
"Eh, this is nothing."
"……"
"So listen carefully. If I ever say something doesn't look good, you fix it immediately. Got it?"
"…Yes, Master Seer."
"Don't call me that."
That was how the morning of our rest day went. And for the rest of that entire day, Ho-min carried on like he'd genuinely become a mystic, spouting every prophecy under the sun and driving me up the wall. None of them came true, of course. Apparently the spirit that possessed him only got baseball right. It was fascinating at first — after that, the all-day annoyance was beyond words.
The next day.
"Hey. It was you. You told them, didn't you?"
"Told them what?"
"People keep coming up to me begging for fucking prophecies. Who else would it be but you?"
"Charge a consultation fee and give them a reading. The guys'll love it. Heh heh."
If he thought I was going to let a full day of that slide, he was badly mistaken. The second I got to work that morning, I'd gone around telling every player that Ho-min had turned into Nostradamus. They'd laughed it off in front of me, but I knew they wouldn't just let it go. Baseball players were notoriously superstitious. Routines didn't exist for nothing, after all.
"Ah, for fuck's sake! I don't know! I don't know anything!"
He was going to have a long, exhausting day.