The Exhibition Game
During the first-team spring camp, I grew quite close to Alberto and Luis. Luis, in particular, being a fellow position player, practically attached himself to my hip whenever we were off the field—unlike Alberto, who spent most of his days over with the pitching staff on a separate diamond.
"Papi. How are you going to survive afternoon drills if you pack away that much food?"
"Even you're calling me Papi now, Luis...? Well, this much is nothing."
"I suppose you're still in your growing years, so you need the fuel."
Alberto was in his late twenties, and Luis had just turned thirty. Unlike the two of them, who were close enough in age to be peers, there was a noticeable generational gap between them and me.
Truth be told, I was unusually young for this setting. Merely standing in a major league spring training camp at nineteen would be completely unthinkable in the States. At that age, an American prospect would either be grinding through college ball or buried deep in the lower minor leagues.
Back in my past life, I had earned my big league call-up at twenty-two, which was already considered blisteringly fast. Barring once-in-a-decade generational prodigies, most prospects didn't make their Major League debuts until twenty-three or twenty-four.
Regardless, Luis stared in sheer disbelief at the mountain of food disappearing down my throat. Perhaps because my frame was still expanding, no matter how much I shoveled in, I never felt fully satiated. It was bad enough that back in middle school, my mother had thrown her hands up, handed me an allowance, and told me to go eat out because she couldn't keep the pantry stocked.
Over the past few weeks, a handful of players had been shuttled back and forth between the first and second-team camps, but my spot remained untouched. Kanghyuk-hyung had been bounced around a couple of times, largely due to defensive liabilities, though he was currently hanging on with the big league squad.
He lacked the pure slugging profile needed to carve out an everyday designated hitter role, and he was still far too young to be stashed there anyway. If the organization wanted to register him on the active roster and groom him properly, he had to find a home in the field somewhere. It was already too late for this spring, but come next off-season, he would have no choice but to take thousands of fungo grounders until his glove wore thin. In the end, there was no substitute for defensive reps.
"Nephew. Here, take this glove. It's just gatherin' dust on me, so it's yours."
"Thank you, sunbae-nim."
"Did ya say you're only cleared for the big club startin' in June?"
"Yes."
"Take it easy down on the farm, then. Just keep your timin' sharp and save your strength for the summer, hear?"
"Aren't your expectations a bit steep for an unranked developmental walk-on?"
"What's this? Lost the stomach to push me off first base already?"
"I figure it'll take me about three years, give or take..."
"Then ya better work your tail off."
As the team captain and the undisputed leader of the lineup, Hwang Jaehun remained warm and generous toward me. My relationships with the rest of the position players, however, were still somewhat awkward. I wasn't the type to go out of my way to play the eager rookie, after all.
Instead, I found myself getting along remarkably well with the pitchers. After I bailed them out with a string of difficult plays at third during intrasquad scrimmages and live fielding drills, they started approaching me first. Jamie Lucas was particularly friendly, and to my pleasant surprise, he turned out to be a die-hard Philadelphia Phillies fan.
Talk about a man of impeccable taste. The Phillies—now that was a truly magnificent franchise. Born and raised in Philadelphia, Lucas had played college baseball in the city before going pro. He was as pure-blooded a Philadelphian as they came. His lifelong dream had been nothing short of pulling on the pinstripes at Citizens Bank Park.
Ah, the memories. Few sights in sports were as heartwarming as the Philly faithful showering visiting opponents and their own hometown heroes alike with equal, unvarnished profanity.
"Damn it, Yoo. To think I'd find an actual Phillies fan in South Korea. I thought this entire country was crawling with nothing but filthy Dodgers bandwagons."
"The Phillies possess an undeniable charm that casual fans fail to appreciate. Their ignorance is a genuine tragedy."
"Damn straight! Listen, let's put up monstrous numbers here together and punch our tickets straight to Philly. Have you ever been to CBP?"
"Frequently. In my dreams."
"You'll be standing on that dirt in person before you know it. Just keep flashing that leather and giving me run support whenever I take the mound. I'll make it there first and put in a hell of a word for you when you post."
"Hate to burst your bubble, but I'm barred from the active roster until June."
"What?! Why in the world not? Other than Mr. Hwang, there isn't a single hitter on this entire squad who squares up a baseball better than you!"
"Regulations are regulations. What can you do?"
Citizens Bank Park. The home of the Philadelphia Phillies, and the hallowed ground where I had spent twenty years of my past life. A truly magnificent ballpark.
Having established solid rapport with the foreign imports and several members of the pitching staff, the spring training exhibition schedule finally arrived. Word came down that the scrimmages would be broadcast live on the club's official YouTube channel, so I shot a quick message to Eunha.
Our opening exhibition opponent was the first-team squad of Nippon Professional Baseball's Chiba Lotte Marines. Under the manager's strict decree that practice games were to be contested with the intensity of the postseason, our analytics department provided a comprehensive scouting report on their scheduled starter, Natsuki.
They had even scraped together dossiers on every potential reliever expected to emerge from the bullpen. Still, veteran first-team arms typically treated exhibition outings as personal test labs. They would tinker with newly developed pitches and ease off maximum effort to minimize injury risk.
Knowing this, I took the data with a grain of salt.
All in all, it was a gorgeous afternoon for baseball.
"Hello, Titans fans streaming on YouTube! I'm your play-by-play caster, Kim Jun. Wonderful to be with you today."
"And hello, everyone. I'm pitcher Park Hajin, stepping into the booth today to provide guest commentary."
Though a professional broadcaster by trade, Kim Jun had found his schedule clear during the off-season and gladly accepted the Titans' invitation for a special exhibition gig. Beside him sat Park Hajin, an active player on the roster.
As the Titans' prospective fourth starter, Hajin had suffered a torn elbow ligament the previous year that wiped out his entire campaign. Seeing him healthy and smiling behind the microphone brought immediate cheer to the fan base. Blessed with boyish good looks, the twenty-three-year-old former first-round pick enjoyed considerable popularity.
"Greetings, everyone. I'm just picking up a little side hustle today! Haha. And look at that—we already have over three thousand viewers tuning in."
Kim Jun tossed out lighthearted banter to set an easygoing tone. While public enthusiasm for the Titans had waned following their dreadful slump, Hwang Jaehun's triumphant return had reignited a spark among the local base.
Ticket sales at Sajik Baseball Stadium had ticked upward compared to the agonizing rebuild seasons of two years prior, though attendance figures were still a far cry from the glory days when the stands shook with twenty-five thousand roaring fans.
"My arm is completely fine now," Hajin assured the chat. "I'm slated to rejoin the regular starting rotation in April! I took the hill during an intrasquad scrimmage recently, but my velocity was sitting a touch low, so the coaching staff wants me to build up my arm speed before joining the active roster. Since I'm sitting out today's game, I get to try my hand at commentary."
"All right, let's take a look at the starting lineup for the Titans!"
As Kim Jun read through the batting order, the live chat erupted into chaos.
"Ah, I see a lot of comments buzzing about Seonghyun," Hajin chimed in, leaning eagerly into his microphone. "You folks should genuinely get your hopes up. The kid can flat-out hit."
The skepticism flooding the screen was biting, yet entirely predictable. If an undrafted walk-on possessed that much thunder in his bat, why on earth would he have signed on as a mere developmental player? Watching the chat tear into the rookie, Hajin felt an instinctive prickle of indignation. The kid might be taciturn, but he was a damn good teammate.
During that scrimmage where Hajin had pitched, Seonghyun had snared a blistering line drive destined to rattle into the left-field corner, turning a sure extra-base hit into an out with effortless grace. And his bat was lethal enough that even Hwang Jaehun doted on him like a favorite protégé...
"I'm telling you, Jaehun-hyung literally calls him 'nephew'!" Hajin declared passionately. "You can get your hopes up. For real."
"All right, all right, let's pull back from the peanut gallery for a moment," Kim Jun interjected with a smooth chuckle. "Play ball! The Titans will take the first licks today, facing off against Lotte's starting pitcher, Natsuki. He posted a sparkling sub-3.00 ERA last season—an exceptional arm."
"Leading off for the Titans is their vanguard, shortstop Choi Junhyung," Kim Jun announced.
"Junhyung-hyung busted his tail during spring camp," Hajin added enthusiastically. "You can definitely look forward to—"
Before Hajin could finish his sentence, Choi Junhyung hacked at the very first pitch, rolling a weak grounder straight to second base for a routine out.
"Ahem. Stepping into the box as the number two hitter," Kim Jun cleared his throat quickly, "is the reigning hit champion and Gold Glove winner, left fielder Raul Ruiz!"
"Well, everyone already knows what Luis brings to the table, right?" Hajin said.
Raul Ruiz boasted a contact rate exceeding ninety percent on pitches inside the zone, and over forty percent on balls well outside of it. He was the quintessential, textbook bad-ball hitter—the type of batsman who would happily hack at a pitch buried in the dirt even in a three-ball count if he decided he liked the look of it.
Natsuki whipped a first-pitch four-seam fastball that bit down below the knees. Leaning down into the trajectory, Ruiz flicked his wrists effortlessly, squaring the ball up along its path and punching a clean line drive into left field for a single.
"Now up in the three-hole is a player I'm seeing for the very first time myself," Kim Jun continued, adjusting his headset. "Signed out of the emergency winter tryout, he's barely one month into his professional career—Yoo Seonghyun. He's slotted in as the designated hitter today."
"Everyone, you can genuinely get excited this time!" Hajin cheered, his voice rising a full octave. "I swear, I'm dying to know why on earth this guy ever quit baseball in high school in the first place!"
"Hajin-ssi, let's settle down just a—"
Before Kim Jun could rein him in, a thunderous, whip-like crack echoed straight through the broadcast microphones.
Kim Jun's vocal cords went from zero to full throttle in a heartbeat.
"FIRST PITCH, INSIDE FASTBALL—HE OPENS UP HIS HIPS AND TURNS ON IT WITH VIOLENCE!! Every single fielder has frozen in their tracks! The right fielder is tracking back, just watching it sail! It's still carrying! Still climbing! Still going!OVER THE WALL—!! A TOWERING SLEDGEHAMMER INTO THE RIGHT-FIELD SEATS! A clean, emphatic, two-run blast to draw first blood!"
"See?!" Hajin roared triumphantly, banging his palm on the desk. "I told you to get your hopes up!!"
And just like that, with a single violent unraveling of his hips and arms, Yoo Seonghyun seared his existence indelibly into the collective consciousness of the Busan Titans faithful.