Chapter 29
Chapter 29
While preparing to pitch, Lee Dong-hoon recalled what Manager Kwak Gu-beom had said the day before.
‘Rotation is going to shift…’
A new foreign pitcher was joining the vacant spot on the team.
It was good news amid a positive atmosphere, and a rotation adjustment was natural.
Lee Dong-hoon had expected it.
But the ones affected by the shift were just him and two other domestic pitchers.
‘So this day comes, huh.’
His nickname was Marines’ eternal third starter.
When he debuted, he immediately took the third starter spot, the domestic ace position.
Over time, many players tried to challenge him, but his spot remained firm.
Not strong enough to take a foreigner’s spot, but among domestic pitchers, he was top-tier.
That was the evaluation of Lee Dong-hoon.
‘Well, that’s true.’
He knew his own skills best.
He lacked what it took to play abroad, and even in the national team, he mostly pitched against weaker opponents.
The problem was the Marines.
Even as his skills declined, his position remained unshaken.
Fans joked online: if this continued, Lee Dong-hoon would remain third starter until retirement.
Some said the team should disband, others marveled that at 36, he didn’t seem to age.
The truth was that even the “aged” Lee Dong-hoon had no domestic pitcher surpassing him.
Finally, Lee Dong-hoon’s rotation was adjusted.
‘I expected it, but now that it’s real, it feels strange.’
He was 36.
This should have happened long ago, ideally when he could have pitched a full season without worries.
Then maybe he could have chased the dreams he had once abandoned.
‘Guess I’ve really aged.’
He remembered the championship dreams he thought he had let go.
Chuckling to himself, he picked up his phone.
He opened a mobile game as part of his routine and noticed a familiar face approaching.
“Si-woo. Already at work? Your stamina is impressive.”
“Senior, hello. I heard the manager wanted to see me.”
Park Si-woo bowed as he approached, and Lee Dong-hoon watched him carefully.
Why Lee Dong-hoon was pushed to fourth starter was obvious.
Three games, 27 innings, no runs.
Park Si-woo, with miraculous stats, was recognized as the team’s first starter.
‘Unlike me.’
If Park Si-woo had only mediocre results like Lee Dong-hoon, taking the third starter spot would have felt frustrating.
But the traded rookie was dominating not just the Marines, but all teams.
Though the sample was still small, Lee Dong-hoon felt a strange certainty.
Perhaps Park Si-woo could achieve the dreams he had given up.
“Guess I’ve really aged.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Oh, while you’re here, press this once for me.”
Lee Dong-hoon opened the game’s gacha screen.
He hadn’t asked Park Si-woo to help in the last game because of the chaos.
“Oh, same as last time?”
“Yes. Just press this. Thanks.”
Park Si-woo pressed the button, nodded, and walked away. Lee Dong-hoon glanced at the screen.
Golden sparkles flashed.
‘Unbelievable.’
Smiling, he closed the game and called someone.
“Where are you?”
-...What now.
“Hurry to the stadium. Let’s warm up together, it’s been a while.”
-Did you take medicine? Ugh, so annoying.
Kim Min-gi grumbled but arrived quickly.
“Ugh, stiff as hell. So, what’s up?”
“A new foreign pitcher is coming.”
“Oh? That’s good.”
Kim Min-gi paused, studying Lee Dong-hoon with a curious expression.
“You okay with this?”
“At my age, being third starter is stranger than anything. Anyway, just catch the ball.”
Kim Min-gi laughed and geared up.
“You’re getting old too.”
“You won’t be long either. I’m still fourth starter, but if you drop, aren’t you backup immediately?”
“Who? Song Min-seok? He’s still far from ready. A catcher needs weight in his game.”
Remembering Kim Min-gi’s young self, Lee Dong-hoon laughed.
“Hey, stop laughing. Why are you like this? I can’t be third starter anymore, are you crazy?”
They laughed together, feeling relieved.
News of the new foreign pitcher spread among the team quickly.
And another piece of news arrived.
“Oh, first starter is here!”
“...Senior.”
Senior Park Hyun-woo bowed sharply.
Fearful someone might see, Lee Dong-hoon straightened him, revealing Park Hyun-woo’s laughing face.
“Honestly, with your performance, if you got bumped, that’d be weird.”
“Just luck.”
“Yes. If luck could make you pitch 27 scoreless innings, I’d want some too. Come on, follow me.”
“Where to?”
“Today is our great Lee Dong-hoon senior’s 400th start. Didn’t you know?”
“Yes.”
“You’re new to the team, so I guess you didn’t notice. Let’s go.”
Following Park Hyun-woo led them to PD Oh Na-eun, camera ready.
“Park Si-woo, over here!”
“PD, am I invisible? Come on.”
“Hey, I saved a spot for you too. Sit.”
Sitting awkwardly, PD Oh Na-eun instructed them.
“You just say what you want to Lee Dong-hoon.”
“Start with me?”
Park Hyun-woo spoke at length.
They had known each other for nearly ten years.
“Okay! I’ll edit this well. Next, Park Si-woo! Say one line to Lee Dong-hoon!”
“Uh, thank you for looking out for me since the trade. Congrats on 400 starts, and I hope we keep doing well together.”
Not much to say.
He wasn’t awkward with Lee Dong-hoon, but speaking this way felt strange.
Luckily, PD Oh Na-eun cheered, “Thanks to both of you!”
“Yes. Good work.”
On the way back, Park Si-woo asked, “All 400 starts were as starter, right?”
“Yep. You too?”
“Yes, but from year two, I was in the bullpen.”
Pitching 400 games as a starter meant at least 13–14 years without major injury or slump.
Even minor injuries would break that streak.
“Wow. 300th start feels like yesterday. Time flies. Warm up, I’ll go in, you rest first.”
“Okay, see you later.”
The ceremony finished, Kim Min-gi and Incheon Stars’ manager handed bouquets.
Fans filled the stands, cheering Lee Dong-hoon.
“Dong-hoon! Don’t retire yet!”
“Still third starter in ten years too!”
Lee Dong-hoon smiled subtly.
In the game, he mixed a fastball up to 145 km/h with four different breaking balls, pitching strategically.
He no longer overpowered hitters with sheer speed, instead varying his approach with craft and boldness.
Six breaking balls to one hitter, then pure fastballs to the next.
-Whack!
Sometimes his daring caused trouble.
“Jung-woo! What was that?”
“Wow, didn’t expect him to field that.”
Defense helped him immensely, and the offense scored enough to win.
But as innings passed, more batters reached base.
By the sixth inning, with a 4–0 lead, two outs, runners on first and second, pitch count at 98, the manager came to the mound.
A brief talk, then fans cheered.
“Lee Dong-hoon! Lee Dong-hoon! Lee Dong-hoon!”
He exhaled deeply and pitched again.
-Whack!
The ball flew endlessly, tension rose, but Senior Ha Seo-jin calmly finished it.
“Out!”
“Wow. Thought that was it.”
Park Hyun-woo sighed in relief, running out.
“That finish? Come on!”
“Fun, huh?”
That was his outing.
I clapped from afar.
Lee Dong-hoon sat beside me.
“Water?”
“Yes, here.”
“Thanks. Ah, finally.”
“Good work.”
“Thanks.”
I expected him to sit beside Park Hyun-woo.
To break awkwardness, I asked about earlier.
“How did your gacha go?”
“Oh, right. Forgot to check. Sorry.”
“No worries. Just curious.”
“Should’ve checked, but forgot while calling Min-gi. Ah, I’ve aged too.”
“You were great today.”
“Almost gave up a homer at the end. If I were younger, just a ground out. Right?”
He drank the rest of his water.
“Not sure how long fans want me pitching. After forty, maybe I need a knuckleball.”
“Shall I teach you?”
“Joke. I can’t throw that well. Hands too stiff.”
“You throw breaking balls well though.”
“Just survival pitches.”
“Didn’t expect that.”
“Why? Thought I had talent for breaking balls?”
“Yes, you throw so well I assumed.”
“Fastball didn’t work, so I tried breaking balls, then others. Not talent, just practice. That’s it.”
Even speaking casually, it was impressive for someone who almost quit last winter.
I couldn’t help but say,
“You’re amazing, senior.”
“Me?”
“Yes. 400 starts isn’t easy. I missed almost a year due to injury. Staying healthy and consistent is real talent.”
“...Thanks.”
After that, we watched comfortably.
Seventh inning shaky, but survived.
“See? Worth it.”
Eighth, Park Hyun-woo.
“Strike out!”
Ninth, Park Jung-won closed, securing victory.
After the game, we waited in the locker room for Lee Dong-hoon.
When he arrived,
“Attack!”
Park Hyun-woo’s order, everyone rushed with cakes.
Lee Dong-hoon got soaked, cake smeared on his face, laughing.
“Remember, every anniversary, you’re dead!”
After joking, he met each player’s eyes.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t cry!”
“Not yet. Seriously, stay injury-free to my age. That’s it.”
“Shouldn’t you make a wish today?”
“Birthday? Forget it.”
Everyone tried, Lee Dong-hoon smiled faintly.
“…Never had anything specific I wanted. Just lived day by day. But now I do.”
He met my eyes.
“I want a championship. Or at least pitch once in Korean Series. And I feel you can make it happen.”
“Geez, retirement speech?”
Park Hyun-woo stifled tears.
Lee Dong-hoon laughed, looked at me.
“You can do it. And if my ability stayed healthy and consistent, I can still pitch then. Keep it up. Thanks, everyone.”
After the after-party, Park Si-woo left first, looking for someone.
“PD?”
“Park Si-woo?”
“Can we redo what we filmed?”
“Redo?”
Editing was done; only Lee Dong-hoon’s reaction remained.
Time tight, but Park Si-woo was an exception.
He slowly spoke in front of the camera.
“Senior. The wish you mentioned today, I’ll make it come true. Done.”
“Pardon? What wish?”
“Well, I don’t know. Please take care of it.”
Oh Na-eun quickly positioned the camera.
Time passed, Lee Dong-hoon hesitated entering.
“Ah, don’t make me do this.”
“Sit.”
He laughed watching the footage.
“Geez, why so long-winded?”
“Park Hyun-woo likes you a lot.”
Next, Park Si-woo appeared again, video just recorded.
‘Si-woo?’
“Senior, the wish today. I’ll make it come true.”
Lee Dong-hoon laughed, bursting out.
‘Si-woo, what have you done.’
Fans would never forgive him now.
“My wish?”
He looked genuinely happy.
“Championship.”