Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: 2022 End-of-Season Camp (1)
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A month passed by in the blink of an eye. My daily routine during that time flowed on unchanged.
After workouts, I'd hit the sheets with Hyun-ah, Hye-jin unnie, or Jo-eun, and occasionally go on exorcism gigs with So-young. Just like that, the month wrapped up, and the AT Thunderbirds finished the season in 7th place.
And then November rolled around. I was joining the AT Thunderbirds' end-of-season camp.
"Hey there. I'm Lee Ki-cheol, starting this season as the AT Thunderbirds' second-team battery coach. Nice to meet you all. Let's get along."
"Hello, sir!"
And so, the insufferable coach—aka Ki-cheol hyung—joined the AT Thunderbirds as the second-team battery coach. I'd heard about it from Hye-jin unnie, but seeing his mug here still soured my mood.
'That damn pest. Following me all the way here.'
Of course, after the end-of-season camp, I'd have no reason to drop to the second team, so this was probably the last time I'd see him around.
"Alright, think that's enough coach intros. Rookies, come up and introduce yourselves."
Once the coaches had finished, second-team manager Lee Soo-hyun called up the rookies who'd joined that year.
"Okay, starting with first-round pick one. Ji Maeng-ho."
"Hello. I'm Ji Maeng-ho from Hanchego. Infielder, took a year off so I'm an '03 baby."
Clap clap clap. Applause rang out. That should do it, right?
"That's it? Kids these days got no fire."
But Lee Soo-hyun looked distinctly unsatisfied.
"Pardon?"
"Talent show! Talent show!"
And just like that, the players up front started chanting in unison. Talent show? I didn't prepare anything...
'Mr. Hornsby? What do I do?'
'Why ask me? Just do what the seniors say and get it over with.'
Hornsby betrayed me with an excited grin. Shit. I got nothing...
"Can't do baseball as a talent here, so I'll show my skills on the field."
I decided to push through.
"Ooh, cocky."
"Yeah, first-rounder needs that edge."
"Who the hell's this punk? Do what the seniors say."
A mix of reactions. Yeah, bark all you want. I'm not like you second-team scrubs anyway.
Given the nature of end-of-season camp, most folks here were second-team players. The first-team guys were off on post-season vacation. Well, there were a few 1.5-team level guys and some unexpected faces.
"Enough, enough."
The one shutting down the players wasn't manager Lee Soo-hyun, but the unexpected Woo Kwan-hyung.
Woo Kwan-hyung, currently the AT Thunderbirds' longest-tenured vet. He'd burst onto the scene like a comet as a 2002 high school grad rookie and was still holding down the fort for the Thunderbirds 21 seasons later—the heart of the team.
In other words, the "King of No Rings." Insane career stats, but zero titles or championship rings.
'Why's a guy like that at end-of-season camp?'
Vets of his caliber usually skipped these for rest, but true to his rep as the incarnation of self-discipline, he'd shown up.
"Sure, if your talent's baseball, show it that way. Let's see it. Next up, second-round pick one—who's it?"
Thanks to Woo Kwan-hyung's intervention, I skipped the talent show and headed back to my seat. As I sat, the next guy stepped up.
"Here! I'm Im Jun-ho, pitcher from Hwiun High. Please take care of me! My top fastball clocked 152 once."
Im Jun-ho from Hwiun High, the ones who beat us in the President's Cup. Cocky dude who kept DMing me; I vaguely remembered replying with one-word answers.
"Nice, Im Jun-ho. Welcome to the AT."
"Got a song ready for my talent show!"
And off he went, belting it out. While he sang, I approached Woo Kwan-hyung.
"Thanks for the help, hyung."
"Wasn't helping. Still, watch yourself—skill or no, you've gotta play with basic manners."
...Boomer vibes? Noted.
After that, the new rookies took turns introducing themselves one by one, and all eleven draftees, me included, finished up.
"Alright, last up, we've got one walk-on signee. Step forward. Jeong Hwi-cheol?"
"Hello, seniors! Jeong Hwi-cheol from Gunsan Industrial High. Outfielder! I'll work hard—please take care of me."
Jeong Hwi-cheol—he made the cut too? I remembered him from the Phoenix Cup, snagging my homer. And that image of him collapsing in tears after my walk-off blast was still fresh.
"Got it. You're a walk-on, so hustle harder than your draft classmates. You know that, right?"
"Yes, sir! I'll give it everything!"
"Good. Do a talent show and head back."
"Ugh..."
He froze up, then started crooning some trendy idol track. Should I have done one too?
'What, chickening out?'
'Nah. Just felt weird being the only one who skipped when that guy's doing it.'
'Chickened out.'
'Yeah, yeah, think what you want.'
Once Jeong Hwi-cheol wrapped up, Lee Soo-hyun clapped to grab everyone's attention.
"Okay, head to your dorms, unpack, and assemble in 30. Got it? You'll share rooms for two weeks, so get along with your roommates. Dismissed. Room assignments are posted in the dorm hallway."
"Dismissed!"
One downside to end-of-season camp? Being cooped up for two weeks in the Icheon second-team dorms.
Plus, as the maknae here, I'd be stuck doing laundry and chores no matter who I roomed with. No escaping like in school.
'Please, no weirdos.'
For this two-week camp, I grabbed my bag and headed to the hallway to check roommates.
"Man, jealous!"
"Of what? And I'm older—'hey' me like that? Nuts?"
"What's wrong with bros?"
Im Jun-ho, who'd checked first, slapped my shoulder. Jealous of what?
[Room 204: Woo Kwan-hyung, Ji Maeng-ho.]
Shit! Why the vet? Looking around, Woo Kwan-hyung was eyeing me too.
"Let's make it work."
"Yes, hyung."
He seemed a bit boomer-ish earlier... Could I survive two weeks?
*
"So you wanna room with him?"
"Yes. I'd like to mentor him over these two weeks."
"Sigh, fine. Kwan-hyung, anyone paired with a senior like you is bound to learn something."
A few days before the AT Thunderbirds' end-of-season camp kicked off, second-team manager Lee Soo-hyun was chatting with the team's veteran anchor, Woo Kwan-hyung.
"Saw his interview—total loose cannon. You sure you can handle it?"
"Gotta try."
Ji Maeng-ho, the big rookie who'd stamped himself on seniors' radars with his wild draft interview and buzzed fans. Lee Soo-hyun had been mulling how to handle him, so Woo Kwan-hyung's offer was music to his ears.
'A vet like Kwan-hyung can straighten him out.'
The incarnation of self-care, synonym for consistency, embodiment of pro mindset. Lee Soo-hyun figured reforming one cocky rookie would be child's play for Woo Kwan-hyung.
'Kwan-hyung's reliable.'
Back in 2002—his last season with the Thunderbirds—he'd watched young rookie Woo Kwan-hyung grind endlessly. That was the root of his faith.
Who was Woo Kwan-hyung?
Ask anyone who pops into mind when you say AT Thunderbirds? No-brainer: No. 10, Woo Kwan-hyung. His most famous nickname? "Thunderbirds' Heart."
Sure, fans called him "Our Bro" or "Kwan-woo" too, but officially, "Thunderbirds' Heart." Fittingly, he'd defined the Thunderbirds in the 2000s.
Debuting as a 2002 high school grad, he'd run 21 seasons solely for the Thunderbirds through 2022. Why join a second-team-heavy end-of-season camp?
Simple: hunger for a championship. Or failing that, just postseason play!
In his '02 rookie year, sweeping regular-season MVP, playoffs MVP, and reaching the Korean Series, Kwan-hyung thought it was his season.
But a gut-wrenching walk-off homer crushed those dreams. Still, he figured he'd challenge for the throne again anytime.
The world wasn't so kind. Not even chances to contend came his way.
His rookie splash: .303 average, 115 hits, 13 homers. In '04, first 20HR-20SB. He notched seven more, cementing as KBA's premier five-tool star.
Over 21 seasons: 2,587 games, 2,955 hits, 389 HR, 394 SB. 11 Gold Gloves (OF/DH combined). Never hit 30 HR, but those 389 showed his grit.
Batting lines like .317/.383/.507/.890—beautiful for a Jamsil slugger.
His stats were dazzling. No titles, but the kind only relentless effort yields.
Yet those very stats fueled hate for a guy who'd never sniffed playoffs, let alone won.
Team cancer. Stats-chaser. Brat. Dark aura. Stench. King of No Rings, etc.
Last year, snapping 20 straight .300 seasons got him daily retire calls.
-'Woo Kwan-hyung's washed. Has-been. Dump him or the team dies. He's clogging the lineup. How long you gonna DH a geezer? Develop rookies.'
He wanted to prove he wasn't done. Smash through the criticism head-on.
Hence, joining camp to rebuild his fading stamina.
This winter, he'd train harder than ever—to give loyal fans, Thunderbird fans, that fiery postseason thrill from his rookie days.
But solo? Impossible for playoffs.
'Our roster ain't bad.'
He'd pondered the Thunderbirds' woes. Name value held up against rivals.
No dominators, but end-of-season, 3-4 Gold Glove nods. Solid individuals.
But their signature off-beat baseball always tripped them up. Lineup and starters good? Bullpen blows. Starters and pen solid? Lineup slumps. Lineup and pen click? Starters falter! Plus key injuries at playoff gates!
Not hyperbole to say a dark cloud hung over 21 unlucky years.
Always short in some spot, they swigged playoff elimination year after year.
Start with "This year's different!" End 6th-7th. No draft hauls, no playoffs—stuck in mediocrity, sinking deeper into darkness.
'Changing this team? One guy can't do it.'
Kwan-hyung was KBA elite, but playoffs needed more than him.
To chase that dream: a game-changer. Ace fireballer or homer hero who flips momentum.
He'd tried power-hitting for 30 HR once. Result? Career-worst season, botched first FA.
Seeing their superstar flop soured the org on sluggers. Vicious cycle.
'Maybe I ruined the team. Post-that-season, they shied from power hitters.'
If he'd succeeded? Team rebuilt? Pointless what-if. He failed.
So for long-awaited power prospect Ji Maeng-ho, he hoped no repeat road. As potentially the org's last first-rounder, he wanted to pass everything: pre-season prep, conditioning, slumps, all.
Thus, requesting to room with him at camp.
And now camp began.
"Please take care of me, hyung."
Ji Maeng-ho stood before him.