Season Wrap-Up
With about a month left on the season schedule, our team was relatively relaxed compared to the others.
The second- and third-place clubs were locked in a brutal fight for second, while the fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-place teams were wringing out every last drop of strength just to claw into the top five.
But for us, fifth place was so far out of sight it might as well have been on another planet, so we had it easy.
"Honestly, there's no real reason to hold on to seventh."
Just like Ko Mandeok said, there was no point burning energy just to stay in seventh. Seventh or eighth—it didn't make a difference either way. Honestly, finishing seventh would only push us further down the rookie draft order.
You might argue it would be better to just tank all the way down, but the teams below us were so far gone that even dropping was hard.
Especially my old team, the Dragons—they'd completely fallen apart after Choe Hojung, the only batter on their roster worth a damn, got hit by me and went season-ending.
At least Hwang Jongdu, my old classmate in the lineup, and catcher Lee Gi-ho were supposedly trying to step up… but even then, they were still just Hwang Jongdu and Lee Gi-ho, so…
They were losing so enthusiastically that you had to wonder if they were even a pro team at all.
Once mid-September rolled around, our team started calling up the rookies from the Second Team who looked like they had potential and putting them into games.
Thanks to that, we started losing more often, which meant fewer chances for me to take the mound than before, and our team settled comfortably into eighth place.
As our record slipped and the Stars got forced up into seventh, their fans were furious, claiming we were tanking—but we had the perfect excuse: rebuilding.
We really did have the youngest average age of any team, and we'd been singing the rebuilding song since the start of the season, so the excuse fit perfectly.
On top of that, the teams duking it out higher up in the standings actually welcomed facing us—easy wins for them.
In that kind of team atmosphere, I gave up two more runs on home runs by the end of September.
One was a clean slider that a batter was sitting on and crushed; the other was when I tried to take it easy against an unexpected ninth batter and got completely wrecked.
Luckily the score gap was big enough, and both were solo shots, so I didn't pick up any losses.
And then October arrived.
On the first day of October, while I was prepping for the game, I got called into Manager Park's office.
"Have a seat."
"Yes, sir."
I sipped the drink Manager Park had pulled from the fridge and waited for him to explain why he'd called me in.
"How's the body?"
"Good."
"Nothing hurting?"
"No. Shoulder feels fine… and with the appearances being a bit spaced out lately, my condition's actually great."
"Disappointed you're not getting up there enough? Want me to put you in more often?"
Well… I wasn't exactly craving it that badly.
"Heh. The reason I called you in today… I think I mentioned it in passing once before…"
"Which…?"
"About being fine throwing long."
"Ah! Yes."
"Just that you can throw it? Or that you're confident you can handle long outings well?"
"I'm confident, of course."
"Yeah? Hmm… how many pitches?"
"Uh… th-that… I used to pitch as a starter, so…"
"That was before, right? From what I know, you haven't done that since coming pro."
"Yes. That's true."
"Right… hmm…"
From the way the conversation was going, I could roughly guess what Manager Park was getting at.
Calling me in out of nowhere to ask if I could throw long. He couldn't possibly mean to use me as a long reliever.
That left only one possibility.
"Starter… I want you to pitch as a starter next year."
"Ah…"
"What? Not confident?"
"No! I can do it."
"You sure you're okay with that?"
"Yes! I'll start preparing the moment the season ends."
"Good. Then that's what we'll do. And… wrap up your appearances for this season next week."
"What?"
"Why so surprised? If you play through next week, there won't be many games left anyway. I'm not just sitting you. The core regulars will all be wrapping up early, so keep that in mind."
"Ah, understood."
As I left the manager's office, Manager Park's words wouldn't leave my head.
Core regular, huh…
On any team, a closer was more than worthy of being called core. I knew that…
But hearing it from the mouth of the team's leader, the manager himself, made me feel strange. Like I was floating or something?
The corners of my mouth kept lifting on their own.
I didn't take the mound again that day. Honestly, with a four-run lead it wouldn't have been crazy to put me in, but Manager Park clearly had no intention.
So I headed home with a fresh, clean body and ran into Ho-min, who'd been holding down the fort.
But the moment I saw the guy, a memory I'd forgotten came flooding back.
That thing he'd said while convincing my parents. How the team would probably convert me to a starter.
And just like that, this bastard's prediction had come true.
"Ohhh…"
"What? What's with that creepy look?"
"Nothing. Just… you hit more things than I expected, is all."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You said it, remember? To my parents. That they'd probably make me a starter."
"Huh? Yeah. I did. Wait—no way?"
"Yep. Starting next year, I'm pitching as a starter."
"Ah… damn it…"
What the?
Ho-min's face crumpled without mercy.
"Why? Didn't you think this would happen too?"
"No. I figured the year after next? I thought there wouldn't be a closer to replace you right away next year."
"And there'd be one the year after?"
"Kang Chanjung hits free agency, right? One of the two mountains of closers in Korea. I figured if they snagged him, they'd flip you to starter."
"Ah…"
So that was it. Free agency hadn't even crossed my mind.
"But that senior'll be thirty next year, right? Kinda late."
"He lost two years to injury."
"Did he…?"
"Sigh. Show a little interest in other people, will you? You're a baseball player—you should at least know about your fellow players' injuries. This wasn't some minor ding; it cost him two whole years."
"…Tch."
"They're not seriously going to paper over it with Jo Sangjun next year… I have no idea what they're thinking."
"They'll figure it out. Anyway, now you know. Oh! Right. But why was your face like that earlier?"
"Ugh, damn it. I already had your whole training schedule mapped out for after the wrap-up camp, and now I have to scrap the whole thing! Seriously."
"……You made that too?"
"Isn't that obvious? If I left it to you, you'd just hit the gym and then flop around the house all day."
"Hey, I've been training hard lately. I even stay after the set times and put in extra work."
"You're acting like doing the bare minimum is some huge achievement. Everyone does that—you're just finally catching up."
"……"
Ho-min muttered about having to rework the schedule and disappeared into his room.
From the grumbling I could hear, he was muttering about building my stamina and getting me ready to handle long innings…
I hadn't said anything to Manager Park or Ho-min, but honestly, I wasn't particularly worried.
Because… it just felt like it'd work out?
You could say I was relying too much on the pills, but somehow I had a feeling those pills had boosted my pitch count too.
A medicine that raised everything a baseball player needed—surely it wouldn't have left pitch count out?
"Still, if I train hard on top of that, it'll only get better. Pitch count and stuff both."
I hadn't thrown long lately, so I couldn't be completely sure, but I was pretty confident my hunch was right.
After two more appearances, just as Manager Park had said, I wrapped up my season early.
And Monday morning. I hesitated for a second at the thought that there were no more games, but I still took the last remaining pill.
Our team finished out 2027 with four games in the final week.
Final ranking: eighth place.
We comfortably locked in eighth, three games behind the seventh-place Stars.
Ho-min kept spouting nonsense about how a pro team being happier with a lower ranking made no sense… but that was pure nonsense.
We weren't making fall baseball either way, so finishing seventh needed at least one upside.
Our team's wrap-up training camp was set for Okinawa.
The date was exactly one week later: October 22nd.
It was confirmed to run for a month from then.
After coming back from there, we'd probably… rest a bit, then start individual training around early December.
Since training was banned during the inactive period and we couldn't do team sessions, I decided to train separately with Ko Mandeok.
With Ho-min helping out on the side, of course.
Ko Mandeok was already gearing up hard, saying he'd practice catching the knuckleball during that stretch.
When he heard I'd be starting next year, he figured the knuckleball usage would go up and said he'd already bought a new mitt…
The inactive period ran through the end of January, so roughly two months.
Ko Mandeok swore that was enough time to catch it perfectly… but personally, I wasn't so sure…
"That guy's got a bit of a bluff in him."
Coming from Ho-min, who'd gotten pretty close with Ko Mandeok, I found myself agreeing quite a bit.
The sweet week of rest flew by in a blink. A full week of doing absolutely nothing but resting.
On the Sunday in the middle of it, I stepped out in front of the house and met the Hooded Woman.
We hadn't set a specific appointment, so I just thought, Maybe if I head out around this time? That time was 7 p.m., right after it got dark.
I threw on some house training clothes, mashed a hat on my head, and headed out saying I was just running to the convenience store—and the moment I stepped out of the apartment building, the Hooded Woman appeared right in front of me, like she'd known I'd come out.
Seeing that woman looking at me with a bright smile the instant I left the building—I was so glad to see her.
The Hooded Woman handed me a small shopping bag wrapped like a gift again and started to leave just like that.
"Hey. I'm heading to Japan for training."
"I know. Why? Worried we won't be able to meet?"
"Uh… well…"
The Hooded Woman just left me with a "no problem" and vanished again like always.
And a few days later, I arrived in Okinawa.