Spring Camp
The training schedule we'd planned wrapped up without a hitch.
Both Ko Mandeok and I had hit the targets we'd set as our top priorities, and with a hitting coach joining us out of nowhere, we'd even managed to polish up our swings in the short time we had left.
Especially me—unlike Mandeok, who'd focused on tweaking his existing form, I'd practically built mine from the ground up.
"Whoa… it's seriously identical."
"Right? No—doesn't Hajin swing even more like a caveman?"
"There's a little of that, yeah."
"See? It's not just me, right?"
On the last day Coach Cho Hyun-joon had agreed to work with us, I showed the others the rough framework of my new swing. Their jaws hit the floor.
The reason for the reaction was simple: my form looked almost exactly like someone else's.
Not just anyone—Lee Gijun's.
"But can he even make contact swinging that big? With Gijun it's one thing… he always swung like that and still crushed the ball, so you figure that's just him, but…"
"Yeah. Looks like he's putting every ounce of strength into every cut."
Taeseong-hyung and Ho-min stared at my swing in open shock, then started fretting a little.
Fair enough. My new form—the one that mirrored Lee Gijun's—was a massive, looping swing.
The kind you almost never saw in Korea. The kind the giant sluggers in the majors sometimes uncorked.
"I heard it's a swing that completely ignores breaking balls?"
Ko Mandeok, who'd trained alongside me and overheard Coach Cho, passed the info along.
"What? He only hits fastballs? What happens when three breakers come in a row?"
"A pitcher's coming in as a pinch hitter—who's gonna throw three breaking balls?"
"Huh?"
"Ah…"
"So for now he's just ditching the breaking stuff, I guess. What'd he say? Something like if you keep watching, you'll start hitting them naturally? Weird stuff like that."
"…What the hell is that."
"Beats me."
The two listening wore faces that said they couldn't make sense of it at all. Mandeok, the one talking, looked just as lost.
Our team's spring camp was set to start February 1st. The location: Australia. Naturally, both Mandeok and I made the roster.
Because of the long haul to Australia, we were scheduled to leave on January 30th. After landing, we'd take a full day to shake off the jet lag before diving into official training.
One week left. Once camp started I'd be throwing until I dropped, so Taeseong-hyung told me to rest the shoulder. Just like that, I was back to a ball-free lifestyle.
I'd signed my contract and reinvented myself as a hard worker, but once I actually started resting…
"See? I knew it. You of all people… sigh."
Ho-min's nagging from the side didn't help.
"Taeseong-hyung told me to rest! I'm dying to throw right this second, okay?"
This time I had more than enough excuses ready.
A full week of perfect rest left me in peak condition.
January 30th. We hit the airport and took off for Australia.
After landing we headed straight to the assigned lodging. I'd roomed with Ko Mandeok during the wrap-up camp and figured it might happen again this time, but—
"Looking forward to working with you~"
A junior with a vaguely slippery look ended up as my roommate.
He introduced himself as Hwang Chan-young. He'd joined last year, spent the whole season in the Second Team, and was finally making spring camp this year.
He claimed he was 186 cm, but one look told you the guy was massive—easily over a hundred kilos. Not fat, either. Just solid. Built like a brick wall.
With a frame like that I figured his main weapon had to be pure heat, but—
"Top velocity? Around 144, I think?"
"…A-and the average?"
"About 140."
"R-right."
Way more ordinary than I'd expected.
Being a lefty, that velocity could still play, sure—but for a body like his, it felt like a waste.
"Pitch mix? Four-seam, slider, circle change, curve."
"Got it…"
Pretty standard stuff, I thought.
"Which one's your out pitch?"
"Ah… I've got good command."
"…I see."
By this point I had a pretty clear idea why they'd stuck us in the same room. Then the kid went even further.
"I just can't figure out why it won't drop. No matter how carefully I do what they tell me… it drops, sure, but not enough to actually use."
"…"
This kid was a carbon copy of my old self.
The coaching staff's thinking was probably something like: This guy's way too similar to the old Kang Hajin. Stick them together and maybe he'll pick a few things up?
Problem was… my stuff came from a system boost.
Still, there was one clear difference between us.
"You're going where? Wait—you want me to come?"
"Just a light run. If you're up for it, maybe some catch too…"
"You're not tired?"
"Still can't skip training."
"…"
The slippery first impression was completely wrong. This kid was a pure grinder.
He looked at me with shining eyes, making a request that wasn't quite a request, and I couldn't bring myself to say no. So I ended up stuck with evening training I never signed up for.
"Ah, damn. Something tells me this camp's gonna be exhausting as hell…"
I hoped the bad feeling was wrong.
After the rest day, February 1st arrived. Official training began.
The first two days were pure weights. The idea was to prep the body before the real intensity kicked in—and just hearing that sent a chill down my spine.
They'd already worked us to death at the wrap-up camp. How brutal was this going to be if they needed a full warm-up phase first…
Then came day three. Finally, the camp's first bullpen session.
After a long-toss warm-up with Hwang Chan-young, I walked into the training facility. Michael Len—last year's ace—had started ahead of me and gave me a friendly greeting.
On the mound, the new foreign pitcher, Roman Marte, was throwing.
He'd posted double-digit wins as a starter in the majors. Word was he threw a four-seam that nearly touched 160 and had a filthy curve.
It wasn't empty talk. Even on a light first-day check, the break on that curve was nasty.
The vertical slider and circle change looked sharp too.
"Everything he throws drops."
I had my own dropping pitches now, but watching him still made me a little jealous.
Once Roman Marte finished his bullpen check, it was my turn.
The reason we were waiting in line like this was that Manager Park wanted Ko Mandeok catching all of us.
From the order, it looked like he was having Mandeok handle the guys expected to anchor the rotation this year…
Last year's ace first, the new foreign arm second. So that made me… the third starter?
I hadn't thrown a single pitch yet, but I happily drank that kimchi soup and stepped onto the mound.
"First ten, focus on the delivery and find your balance."
"Yes, sir."
Just like Manager Park said, I ignored velocity and command and concentrated on balance. After a week off, the arm felt fantastic turning over.
Once the first ten were done, Manager Park's next order was: "Throw like it's a real game."
Roman Marte just did a light condition check… so why me…
Not that I was complaining. Honestly, I'd rather throw fewer pitches that exploded into the mitt than lob soft ones all day.
I started with the four-seam.
Whap!
Whap!
Whap!
The mitt cracks echoing through the indoor facility were deeply satisfying.
"Whoa—could jump straight into the season with that."
The pitching coach's face lit up.
"Next, slider."
After ten four-seams I checked the slider and changeup.
"Wow!"
The second the slider left my hand, a gasp came from behind. I turned to see Marte giving me a big thumbs-up. Michael Len next to him was clapping too.
Getting that reaction from pitchers with major-league experience felt pretty damn good. I was about to throw the splitter when—
"Let's see that one now."
Manager Park, who'd been watching quietly the whole time, called for it.
"Yes, sir."
The moment the order came, Ko Mandeok's catching stance shifted slightly.
He crouched a little lower than usual, ready to block at any second.
"…We're gonna have to fix that."
Manager Park clearly didn't like the look. A catcher telegraphing the pitch before it even left the hand was basically handing the other team the sign.
But—
"Do we really need to? It's not like knowing helps you hit it. Let's watch him catch a few first."
The pitching coach had a point. Sign or no sign, catching the thing came first.
Thinking about finally showing off everything we'd ground through after the season ended made me a little nervous. If I felt that way, how was Mandeok feeling, crouched down there waiting for the ball?
"Here we go."
The pitching coach raised the radar gun.
I deliberately slowed the windup, giving Mandeok every extra fraction of a second to prepare. Smooth delivery. Then two fingertips shoved the ball forward.
"What the!"
"Oh······!"
Pop~
The ball floated, fluttered left and right, then dropped off to the side—the knuckleball's signature, utterly unpredictable dance.
But Ko Mandeok's mitt tracked it smoothly and swallowed it whole.
"Good!!!"
Both foreign pitchers—especially the new guy, Marte—exploded into cheers and applause.
Then another. Then another. Ten knuckleballs total.
Nothing like the last time I'd thrown in front of Manager Park, when fewer than half had been decent. This time, not a single miss.
And Ko Mandeok caught every last one of those ten knuckleballs perfectly.
"Good. Both of you worked hard."
Praise that rarely left Manager Park's mouth.
That wrapped the first pitching session. From that moment on, the two foreign pitchers started taking a serious interest in me.
Michael Len I could understand—we'd gotten along fine last season—but…
"Ah, seriously! What are you even saying?! It's not even English—how am I supposed to answer if I can't understand a word?!"
For some reason, Marte latched onto me and wouldn't let go.