The Substitute Player
"Mmmph. Dude, you really made it."
Ho-min mumbled through a mouth stuffed full of snacks.
"…What are you on about now?"
"It's not just Korea. Your name's blowing up in Japan and the States too. If this isn't making it, I don't know what is."
"Haa…"
"Your interview video got subtitled and went worldwide. The comments are absolute chaos. People are asking what the hell Korea's doing, not selecting the league's top starter."
"And that's exactly why I'm this exhausted right now. Who the hell uploaded that thing?"
Three days had passed since the perfect game—since the interview.
The only reason I could still loaf around at home like this was because Manager Park had given me ten full days off.
And not by putting me on the injured list, either. Actual vacation.
Following Manager Park's orders, I'd gone to the hospital the day after the game.
I'd just gone because I was told to, no questions asked. But once I got there, everything was already set up exactly the way he'd said it would be.
Massage, for example. The trainer who should have been at the ballpark was waiting for me at the hospital.
I got a massage in a private room, snuck in a little light running at the rehab facility, got a vitamin shot, rested a bit, and walked out—only to find an article already plastered everywhere.
The article claimed there was some minor issue with my shoulder… but it didn't seem like anyone actually believed it. Or maybe they just didn't care?
Because articles about my interview were still flooding out nonstop.
If it had just stayed off the video sites, things might have quieted down sooner… but some bastard had slapped subtitles on it and uploaded it, and now I was an international lunatic.
"People know a lot more about you than I expected, though."
"That so?"
"Yeah. Lots of talk about how you could jump to the big leagues after next season."
"Oh? Is that right?"
"Yeah. But they're also saying your military service is the problem. That's why this whole Olympics mess is even louder than expected."
I was sprawled on the couch, snacking, when I turned my head toward the phone I'd shoved far out of reach.
"How long is that thing gonna keep going off?"
"How should I know? I'm the one suffering because of you."
"……"
Ever since the day after the game, I'd been getting absolutely bombarded with calls.
It started when I mindlessly answered a call right after waking up, before heading to the hospital… and some old baseball elder introduced himself. The kind of name you might vaguely recognize if you tried hard enough.
That guy called just to start lecturing me under the guise of "advice," asking what the hell I thought I was doing. I listened for a bit, then hung up without a word. If he'd said something worth responding to, maybe I would've answered—but this?
He was dancing around it, but the bottom line was clear: go stand in front of the reporters and apologize to Manager Min Gucheol. And what else? That I'd been foolish?
Couldn't be bothered answering, so I just hung up.
The next call was the same.
After that, I put the phone on silent and shoved it as far away as possible.
The most absurd part was that even Manager Ko Jangsu of the Dragons had tried to reach me.
I'd briefly considered answering that one, but figured it would just ruin my mood, so I ignored it too.
Somehow he found out and started calling Ho-min's phone instead…
And just like that, Ho-min ended up in the same boat.
After the hospital, I finally noticed Manager Park's missed call and rang him back—that was when he gave me the ten-day vacation, along with the advice not to contact anyone.
And so my ten days of leave began.
"But why hasn't that old guy said a single word yet? Shouldn't he either fire back or at least announce a replacement player?"
"Right?"
Manager Min Gucheol still hadn't said a thing. Like Ho-min said, you'd think he'd have something to say by now.
"Don't tell me he's actually waiting for me to apologize?"
"No way…"
"…Actually, if he's that much of a dinosaur among dinosaurs, it's totally possible. Look at how they're trying to pressure you over the phone. These people operate on a completely different wavelength from the rest of us."
"…… Hell if I know! It'll get settled within ten days. He'll either make some excuse or quietly announce a replacement and be done with it."
"You really have no plan, do you. Ugh…"
"Should I do another interview?"
"…What? Are you insane? What are you gonna spout this time?"
"Hmm… that the old fogeys are harassing me?"
"Haa… fuck. Maybe I should just quit being your manager."
Honestly, even though I'd put on a strong front in front of everyone else, I'd had moments of thinking, Did I go too far?
I'd been pretty worked up during that interview, and with the game going way better than I'd expected, there'd been a definite "eat shit" energy behind what I'd blurted out.
Then when the whole thing blew up bigger than I'd imagined, I'd felt a tiny bit of regret—Maybe I shouldn't have done that—but…
Watching these so-called baseball elders and veterans keep bugging me for three straight days was starting to piss me off and make me stubborn.
Might as well go all the way, right?
Reporters were camped out downstairs at the apartment. Because of them I couldn't even leave the house… which meant I couldn't see Han Song-yi either… Stuck inside for three days with this bastard Ho-min was driving me up the wall…
And those assholes wouldn't even let me use my phone…
"Don't do a single thing until Manager Park comes after you with a bat."
"……"
Apparently Manager Park didn't trust me enough, so he'd called Ho-min too.
Damn it.
Day six of being locked in this prison called home.
"It's out!"
Ho-min's loud voice first thing in the morning dragged my late-sleeping body upright with effort.
"What is?"
"Look at this!"
Someone had dumped the full articles onto the community board Ho-min always checked. Comments were piling up in real time at a ridiculous pace.
"If it's Lee Chan-dong, doesn't that mean they did care about the military exemption?"
"Right?"
"But I guess there really wasn't anyone else to pick. Lee Chan-dong of all people…"
"Last time I saw him, he looked completely cooked…"
"Ever since he got hung up on the pitching rubber when he faced us, he tried to fix it and just fell apart. His command is nonexistent…"
"Yeah."
"Think Manager Seo Jang-ho pushed for him?"
"Doesn't seem like that kind of guy."
"I genuinely don't get it."
I didn't think Ho-min was the only one who didn't get it. Judging by how fast the comments were flying, only a tiny minority seemed to understand…
Once the replacement player was announced, interest in me evaporated almost overnight in the strangest way.
My name, which had been everywhere just days ago, practically vanished, and Lee Chan-dong took its place.
At this point I almost felt sorry for the guy.
He was just getting called up and going, yet he was catching every insult under the sun…
But that was his problem, not mine.
"Damn… he's throwing well."
"Yeah. Our Hyeon-bin's stuff is better than I thought. Chan-young's gonna have to watch his back."
We were watching Hyeon-bin's first pro start—the one he'd gotten in my place.
"He looked a little worn out."
"What, already tired this early in the season?"
Hwang Chan-young had been giving up a lot of hits lately. Home runs too. A lot of hard contact finding holes.
He was still grinding through innings, but he looked shaky more often than not.
Meanwhile Hyeon-bin was putting up a solid showing in his first start as a pro.
Four innings, one run so far.
That slightly unusual lefty sidearm delivery, plus a mix of slow but big-breaking off-speed stuff, was letting him induce weak contact pretty effectively.
Ko Mandeok's head was probably exploding from the pitch sequencing, but from a spectator's seat it was at least fun to watch.
In the fifth, trailing 1–0, Shane crushed a three-run homer, and Hyeon-bin suddenly had the conditions for his first career win as a starter.
"Kinda wasteful to use him as a long reliever."
"So?"
"I don't know… maybe pair him with Oh Gyu-sin."
"You ever seen our manager play the lefty-righty game?"
"He still wouldn't put a righty submarine pitcher in against lefties, though."
"True enough."
Hyeon-bin would definitely be tough on left-handed hitters, that much was clear.
In the end, Hyeon-bin secured the win that day.
And of course, a pitcher who'd just earned his first pro start victory got the interview.
Hyeon-bin answered with the same confidence his massive frame suggested. And when they asked him what kind of pitcher he wanted to become…
"Watching Senior Kang Hajin's game and interview, I felt he was incredible. My dream is to become a pitcher like Senior Kang Hajin!"
He went and said something he absolutely did not need to say.
"What the fuck is that crazy bastard saying right now?"
"……What did you even do to him?"
"What did I do? Fuck, we're not even that close. Why is this lunatic dragging something that was finally dying down back into the light…"
"Hold on. Let me check…"
We scrambled to open the laptop and dive into the community boards.
"……"
"……Should we kill that bastard?"
"……You wanna?"
"Fuck. It had finally quieted down…"
"It's over. They've got their hook now."
Just like Ho-min said, that night Hyeon-bin and I set the community boards on fire all over again.