Championship and Retirement
Before this season even began, not a single person was picking our team to win it all.
Everyone expected the Raiders to run away with it, and beyond that a few other club names got tossed around as contenders. Every now and then some expert would throw the Savers into the mix, but that was as far as it went.
Yet when the season ended, we had taken the regular-season title. Then we swept the Korean Series four games to none and claimed the championship.
After we recorded the final out and the whole place dissolved into a sea of tears, the smiles never left anyone’s face through the entire Korean Series victory ceremony.
Except for me… I had just been hit with something enormous.
“I’m retiring after this season. The skipper and Kyung-min already know. I wanted to thank you first, though, so keep it quiet for now, all right?”
Jo Sangjun said that to me and walked off in another direction.
If he wanted it kept secret, he should have just kept it secret… Why tell me now? He didn’t have to thank me right this second…
Not that I sat around moping by myself. I jumped and shouted and celebrated right along with the rest of the guys. There was just this little ache sitting in one corner of my chest.
Korean Series MVP went to the captain.
Honestly, I’d been a little greedy for it myself… but the captain had been outstanding, especially the two home runs he took off Kwon Jong-jin—including the one that sealed the championship for good. Unless we’d lost today and I’d gotten one more start and thrown a shutout or something… this MVP belonged to the captain. So I clapped for him with a full heart.
I was already being called the near-lock for season MVP, so I’d have to soothe any leftover disappointment with that.
Once the on-field victory events wrapped up, we poured back into the locker room and doused one another in champagne all over again. After showers and a change of clothes we headed straight for Seoul—to the dinner, or party, or whatever it was that our owner had prepared to celebrate the long-held dream of a Korean Series title.
“Man… what kind of hotel is this supposed to be?”
Our owner had reserved a place at a hotel he owned.
“Why? You hate hotels?”
“No… it’s not that.”
Ko Mandeok grumbled as we rode the bus together, and Jo Changjun, sitting nearby, chimed in.
“On a night like this we should just rent out a barbecue place and eat and mess around among ourselves.”
“Right? That’s what I’m saying. At a hotel you end up having to sit there all stiff and proper.”
I understood the complaint, but hadn’t we already done the casual meat-house thing after winning the regular season?
“Haa… the GM and everyone else are coming… Don’t tell me the owner’s showing up too?”
“Ugh, that would really be…”
Yeah, that was possible. I hadn’t even thought that far. I’d just been happy when they said it was set up at a hotel.
Speaking of which—
“Is the owner coming?”
“Who knows. We’ve never won anything before, so how would we know?”
“I’ve never even seen the owner’s face.”
“Me neither. Only on the news.”
Apparently he sometimes slipped into the stadium quietly to watch a game and left without anyone noticing. He’d never appeared in front of us, so of course we wouldn’t recognize him. They said they’d seen him on TV… but I never had. How many years had it been since I last watched the news?
At least Suwon was close. The bus got us there before the exhausted players completely passed out. We snapped ourselves awake and headed into the prepared room.
“Uh… this is not what I pictured.”
We’d assumed a hotel meant something formal—like a wedding reception, maybe. Wine and champagne glasses lined up, everyone putting on airs. What actually greeted our eyes was…
“Is this a sixtieth-birthday party?”
Our owner knew his players perfectly.
“It’s still a hotel, though… soju and beer… next thing you know they’ll bring out yukgaejang.”
“…Well, it’d probably taste good. I’m starving.”
“What is this, a funeral parlor?”
Long tables covered in white cloth—or paper, whatever it was—and on top of them soju, beer, and soft drinks.
“Sit down already. Food comes out the second you sit.”
Wine? Champagne? Forget it. The food, at least, felt like a hotel. Steaks in front of every seat, plus every kind of dish imaginable—side dishes you never see in ordinary restaurants—filled the tables.
“Man, this is weird. Tastes great, but doesn’t it feel like we’re just drinking soju with pork neck?”
You’d think someone would object to describing a high-end steak that way… but the comparison was so dead-on that no one had a comeback.
How much had we eaten? We were using the steak as anju, pouring soju and beer, and the mood was just starting to heat up when—
“The general manager will say a few words.”
The GM, who hadn’t been visible until now, must have arrived; he climbed onto the small stage set up at the front.
“Ahem… players, Manager, coaching staff—you all worked incredibly hard this year. Thank you for delivering the beautiful result of a unified championship.”
He opened with gratitude and then spent a long time talking about how happy and moved he was. And then—
“The owner has promised every one of you the highest bonus the club is allowed to give.”
“Wooooooooooo!!!!”
That was what we’d been waiting for. I knew something like this was coming.
“However!”
It had been going so well… why the “however”?
“Because of the league’s bonus-cap regulations, he is heartbroken that he cannot give you as much as he truly wants.”
“Aww…”
The room deflated instantly.
“So the owner left this message: the rest will be made up in your salaries!”
“Wooooooooooo!!!!”
Were cultists this loud? These guys were practically religious fanatics. They kept screaming and jumping long after the GM stepped down.
How much was he planning to give that he could just say it out loud like that…
“And now, one more person. Jo Sangjun—please come up.”
At the staffer’s call, Jo Sangjun rose and walked forward. The captain and I locked eyes. He gave a small nod, confirming what I was thinking.
The other players probably figured our oldest veteran was just going up to say a few words. The captain and I knew better.
“Uh… first of all, everyone worked hard this year. And thank you for putting up with this inadequate senior. I’ve got a lot I want to say, but I’ll save the rest for one-on-one later…”
He trailed off and looked up at the ceiling. The players watching him finally sensed something was off.
“I turned thirty-seven this year and I’ve always tried to work hard, but I don’t think I’ve ever been as desperate as I was this season. Still, I realized I can’t show the same stuff I used to… so today’s game was my last as a player.”
Absolute silence. No one could speak. The pitchers especially looked stunned. Young guys like Hwang Chan-young, Hyeon-bin, and Oh Gyu-shin already had red eyes.
“I never expected a championship like this in my life… but thanks to all of you, I get to retire wearing a championship ring. Thank you, everyone, for everything.”
He bowed deeply and couldn’t straighten up again. The captain, who had already left his seat and come forward, supported him and led him out for a moment.
“W-what the hell is he talking about? Retirement all of a sudden? His stuff still kills!”
“What’s going on? Hajin, did you know?”
“Really? When? When did you find out? How?”
Because I wasn’t reacting, questions flew at me from every direction. Why only me… ah. The captain had gone out with Jo Sangjun. The skipper knew too, but nobody was going to grill the manager. I was the soft target.
“I only found out after the game today, while we were crying. I don’t know any details either.”
The high from the bonus and salary talk crashed hard under the news of Jo Sangjun’s retirement. The captain and Jo Sangjun didn’t come back right away… and the players started drinking in low, drained voices, trading short conversations.
“But someone like Jo Sangjun hyung would come back as a coach, right?”
Of course he would. Even as an active player he’d coached the young guys so well. I’d learned the splitter from him myself. There was no way the club would just let him walk after he retired.
“Ah! That’s true.”
“Yeah! You’re right!”
What was with these people? Had they seriously not thought of that?
The mood flipped instantly.
“Man, I got all bummed out for nothing. We’ll see him again right away.”
“Hey, hey! Just drink. Why aren’t those two coming back? Are they off somewhere bawling?”
“……”
These were the seniors I was supposed to look up to…
A little later the captain and Jo Sangjun returned to their seats. And that was when the torment of Jo Sangjun began.
“Huh? Coach? They mentioned it. I’m looking at it positively…”
“Hey! Hey! Stop! Stop! I said I’m drinking slowly!”
“Ah, come on! Get lost! You bastard!”
“Quit mixing it!!!!”
It didn’t take long before Jo Sangjun was out cold.
“Ugh… uuugh.”
“Honey~ you awake?”
“Huh? Yeah…”
“Stomach okay?”
“No. I think I’m dying.”
I’d come home to Han Song-yi last night almost completely blacked out. In that state I’d shared one more beer with her, celebrated the win together, and fallen asleep. I finally cracked my eyes open, dragged my creaking body into the bathroom, and after a shower my head cleared a little. Then I hungover-cured myself with the meal she’d set out and carried a cup of coffee back to the sofa.
“Honey~”
“Yeah?”
“You remember we’re going this weekend, right?”
“……?”
“Did you forget? We said we’d go see my parents. We talked about it yesterday—you don’t remember?”
“……!!!!”
I remembered. It had been while I was drinking that beer with her after I got home. And I was pretty sure I’d answered.
“I-I remember~”
“Dad and Mom were so happy when I told them you’d come greet them this weekend.”
“Ah~ th-they were?”
She’d already told them. The words I’d spoken last night—no, early this morning—had already been passed along…
Ah… now what was I supposed to do about this?