Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Park Siwoo’s declaration of victory didn’t just surprise the fans.
“Wow, winning?”
“Yes. That’s what he said.”
“He doesn’t usually act like this, but in moments like this, he’s like his age again.”
“What, trying to assert some discipline?”
“Discipline? I like it.”
Kim Min-ki stood and immediately put a headlock on the batter, Lee Dohyun, who had spoken.
“Discipline? Is Siwoo your friend?”
“No, just joking! Of course, just joking! Ugh, how old am I to still be doing this?”
“What does age matter? Older than me? And you’ve got two kids, and you’re talking about discipline?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Then this should settle it.”
As Kim Min-ki released his arm, Lee Dohyun quickly stepped away.
Watching him, Kim Min-ki let out a small laugh and leaned back in his chair.
“Winning. Ha. Why did Donghoon suddenly say that? He’s getting old too.”
Thinking about it, it was inevitable even without Donghoon. The team’s momentum was unusual, and Park Siwoo had spent the last three years on teams that reached the Korean Series. It wasn’t strange for the word “championship” to come naturally.
But this happened because Siwoo didn’t fully understand the Mariners yet.
Since their last win in 1992, how many players had shouted that they would win? Star hitters, league aces, expensive FA signings—all had declared victory, yet none came close.
“Even now, the team’s not that strong.”
The Mariners felt like walking on thin ice. Moving forward steadily, yet always on the edge of falling.
Kim Min-ki, who had played over ten years with the Mariners, sensed it.
“One wrong step, and you can’t get back up.”
Siwoo might think that impossible, but this was the Mariners—a team with no championships in the 21st century and over forty years without a title.
At first, one denies it. Claims such a team couldn’t exist, thinks he could change it. Then, when he understands what the Mariners are, there are only two choices: leave or sink with them.
Kim Min-ki had long made his choice, hoping Park Siwoo wouldn’t make the same one.
“Me or Donghoon…”
Because he knew all too well the fate of players like Seo Jin.
Before Siwoo, Ha Seo-jin had spoken similarly—but not anymore.
“Enough.”
Kim Min-ki’s bitter smile lingered as he reached for a cigarette.
“To keep playing, I really need to quit.”
But he lit it anyway, exhaling a sigh of smoke. Kim Min-ki never could quit. His baseball life was proof—he was tangled with the Mariners and couldn’t break free.
The new foreign pitcher, Danny Jones, finally joined the team, though only temporarily to acclimate before 2nd-team appearances.
“Nice to meet you. Call me Danny.”
His first impression was friendly and approachable, even a bit cute. Not “cute” as in childish, but genuinely warm.
“Hailey, say hi.”
A small girl cautiously stepped forward, bowing.
“…Hello.”
To everyone’s surprise, Hailey spoke clear Korean.
“She speaks well, huh?”
“Yes, very well. I’m Park Siwoo, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You helped me fix my mistake.”
Danny watched her proudly before explaining.
“I actually came to Asia because of Hailey. I heard she’s interested in our culture. I almost signed with a Japanese team by mistake.”
“Uh… how is that my business?”
“When I realized my mistake, the only team I could reach was the Mariners. The GM said if it weren’t for you, they might have signed someone else.”
Now, none of this was surprising.
“…Dad.”
“Yes, Hailey. Tired? Want to go rest?”
She shook her head at Danny and glanced at me. I met her eyes.
“Hello, Hailey.”
“…Hello.”
“You speak Korean well. Did you practice alone?”
“With my mom…”
“Ah, mom, got it.”
Danny held Hailey, greeted the others, and headed back to the dorm. There seemed to be a story, but his first impression was solid.
Compared to the previous foreign player, Max Dilton, Danny had Hailey right by his side. He was expected to perform well—America and Japan had tried to sign him too.
“Isn’t she a doll? Wow.”
“The cutest at that age. Next time, we’ll need to bring pocket money.”
“Only in dollars, right? What’s the exchange rate now?”
Even in that short time, Hailey charmed the team. This felt reassuring.
“Okay. We can do this. Gail, let’s show them.”
But why was Gail beside me now?
“…Are you okay?”
“Of course, Siwoo.”
Gail wasn’t unusual being like this. Yesterday I pitched, today it was her turn. She normally kept her distance before a game, but now she muttered as if wanting me to speak. I did, and she brightened, pretending to be surprised.
“Something wrong?”
“A little nervous. My last game wasn’t perfect.”
Gail had a quality start last time: 6 innings, 3 runs. Not bad, but compared to her first two games—7 and 6 scoreless innings—it felt like a drop.
I realized that being after me helped her performance.
“Siwoo, will the manager adjust the rotation?”
“I don’t think so.”
Danny would go next, after me, before Lee Donghoon and Oh Kyungsoo. Next week, Danny’s debut was likely Thursday.
“And if I pitch badly today?”
“…Danny would still be the third starter.”
Gail smiled faintly, tousling her hair.
“Thanks. Then I just need to pitch well.”
Gail Davis tried to calm herself.
“I can do this.”
But it didn’t work. Danny Jones, here to meet the team, stirred her anxiety.
“Is that really the Danny Jones I know?”
Danny didn’t remember her, but she felt an internal familiarity.
He had rocketed past her in the MLB rankings. If he took her spot, could she perform as she had?
Yesterday, she had seen how batters reacted differently with Siwoo behind her.
“I can’t go without him.”
To be recognized in Korea and aim for the majors, she had to keep the starter spot after Siwoo. That thought distracted her completely.
Even though nothing had happened, and the manager said Danny would be the third starter, her imagination raced to failure in the majors.
A sharply hit ball landed in Cha Jae-hoon’s glove, and Gail breathed relief. Two runners had already scored—0 to 2. Unlike yesterday, runs came in the first inning.
Kim Min-ki approached, noticing her disappointment.
“Gail, how’s your condition?”
“…Good.”
“Today’s pitches are great. Forget the first inning. Focus on fastballs in the zone, and no batter will touch it. Can you do it?”
She nodded, and he patted her shoulder before letting her be.
By the fifth inning, she had pitched the minimum for a starter, but five runs were already given up. Despite pitching after Siwoo, it was her worst game. The offense was blocked by the Falcons’ second foreign pitcher, and the game was lost.
Gail couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes afterward.
“…It’s over.”
The second starter spot was gone. She boarded the train to Busan with Siwoo, given a weekend off to rest and prepare.
Yet she couldn’t sleep. Watching Siwoo awake beside her, she thought,
“If I’d pitched like him…”
Imagining herself alongside stars like Eden Kelly and Nathan Wilson, she blushed. Siwoo noticed and took out his earphones.
“What’s up?”
“…Nothing. Just curious.”
“Just watching old videos.”
“Old videos? What’s that?”
“No big deal.”
On his tablet, Siwoo stood in a Phoenix uniform.
“Ah, this was the original team, right?”
Curious, Gail watched. Siwoo’s throws before the knuckleball era stiffened her expression—fortunately, the dark train hid it.
“No big deal?”
His fastball was mid-130s km/h, straight—not the unpredictable knuckleball.
“Why watch this? Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Why? Hmm, just… anxiety.”
“…Anxiety?”
A pitcher with four consecutive nine-inning scoreless games, recognized by Eden Kelly, felt uneasy?
“For me, the knuckleball was pure luck. I enjoy pitching now, but one day I might suddenly fail. I prepare for that. Maybe my velocity returns, but for now…”
“…Why go this far?”
“Never really thought about it… I just like baseball. I want to keep throwing. That’s it.”
The train was dark, but Gail couldn’t meet his eyes. Her reflection seemed pitiful in them.
“You’re really amazing.”
“Thanks.”
The conversation ended there.
At Busan, Siwoo went home, Gail to the dorm. Exhausted, she still couldn’t sleep.
Eventually, she woke up and, without washing, went to Sajik Stadium.
“Gail?”
Siwoo was already training at this hour.
“Not resting?”
“…A little sore.”
Watching him, she gathered courage.
“Siwoo, can we train together?”
“Of course. But you pitched yesterday. Are you okay?”
“I had to run anyway.”
Her real luck wasn’t pitching after Siwoo—it was standing on the mound beside him.
“Yes. Let’s do it together.”