A Promotion Over Dinner and an Outfield Crisis
“Heh heh... Eating in a place this nice two days in a row? Man, I've really made it.”
Yesterday had been dinner with the president of Nixon Baseball, and today it was a meal with who could be seen as her boss—the owner of the Phoenix. Shin Ha-yoon took a quick look around the upscale restaurant before heading into Room 2.
“Oh, there you are! Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Food'll be out soon.”
The Phoenix boss in the flesh...!
As an intern for the Phoenix first and foremost—but more importantly, a die-hard Phoenix fan—Shin Ha-yoon sat down comfortably, just as he'd suggested. He didn't feel like some distant superior; there was a sense of warmth and approachability about him.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice. So, any guess why I called you in today?”
“Something to do with the Cha Tae-hyun controversy?”
The owner chuckled and nodded. “Spot on. Things worked out great thanks to you. And I always make sure to reward good performance. What you pulled off this time was huge.”
“Aw, come on. It was just what I was supposed to do.”
Shin Ha-yoon smiled modestly, and a grin spread across the owner's face too.
So she's the precious one Cha Tae-hyun was talking about? Makes sense why he'd go to the trouble of getting a dedicated seat made. She seems like a good kid—solid character, pretty too.
They still hadn't managed to create that dedicated seat due to friction with the operations team, but seeing her now, the owner thought it was time to push things through, even if it meant getting a little forceful.
“Being humble is great, but I always take care of performance bonuses. First off, resolving the Cha Tae-hyun mess... And you brought Maxwell back too, right? All that combined... Hmm. Pretty much anything reasonable, just name it.”
This was basically a blank check. He'd even hand over a house or a car if she asked. But what came out of Shin Ha-yoon's mouth was a bit unexpected.
“Could you... assign me as Cha Tae-hyun's dedicated coach?”
The owner tilted his head. “You know there's no such thing as a 'dedicated coach' for players, right? We could create the position, but we can't call it that officially. Doesn't exist.”
“Yes, I know. I'd be fine just handling the role.”
“Alright then. Probably something like dedicated trainer or manager... That work? If you're building a coaching career, strategy analysis would be better.”
“That's fine. And it's my own little investment too.”
“Hmm...? Investment?”
Shin Ha-yoon grinned. “When Cha Tae-hyun leads the Phoenix to a championship and says in the interview it was all thanks to his manager—'He's gonna be an amazing coach'—that alone makes a career, right? Who needs specs?”
The owner burst out laughing and nodded. If that happens, it'll be way better than being on strategy analysis.
“Smart newbie you've got here. Alright, I'll make the call. When our star Cha Tae-hyun gets back, take good care of him.”
Truth be told, Shin Ha-yoon didn't care about careers or specs.
Now I can see his face more often, right?
She just missed the days before joining the Phoenix, when she'd coach Cha Tae-hyun one-on-one.
“Thank you! I mean it! I'll work so hard!”
The Phoenix was currently leading second place by a single game, holding firm at the top. They'd passed their golden month of April—peak “Spring Phoenix”—and into May, still maintaining the position. It was definitely encouraging.
Phoenix fans were already acting like the championship was in the bag, fretting over Korean Series ticket reservations. Their hype was somewhat understandable. The first team was undeniably strong this season. Last year, they were the Winners' easy prey; this year, the tables had turned.
Today's Game 3 was in the top of the 6th, and we were up 5-2. But fans didn't know the inside story. Sure, the bullpen was an issue, but our real Achilles' heel was the massive gap between starters and backups—like heaven and earth—and between first and second teams, paradise and hell.
Why was I dwelling on this harsh reality now...?
“Urghhh!!!”
“Hey! Hoon-gi, you okay?!”
Because our pathetic depth was about to be exposed.
I Hoon-gi, chasing a ball in the outfield, dove for it and caught it—but let out a scream, clutching the back of his knee. It wasn't just a cramp; he writhed in pain for a while before being carted off on a stretcher. Hamstring injury, judging by the spot. If so, he'd be out for a good long while.
Jo Jun-ho, an outfield resource who'd never seen the field before, rushed in as his replacement.
“High fly to right field. Jo Jun-ho goes for it... Oh no! Misjudged the distance. The ball drops, and the runner from second scores!”
He'd already etched his name in the fans' minds from the jump.
Ugh... Yeah, this team. Not easy.
Jo Jun-ho's error let in a run, but Shaun wrapped the inning without further damage, logging a quality start with 6 innings, 3 runs. Bottom of the 7th, our mound saw Cha Si-hwan take the hill. He'd been called a “Si-hwan bomb” or “control trash” early on, but now he was a solid setup man. Fans even said they couldn't relax without him lately.
The guy who'd feared release from Double-A had transformed—and the reason was obvious.
Crack!
“Foul off the first pitch, but it's off the end. Doesn't go far—Cha Tae-hyun fields it clean. One out.”
He gripped it like a four-seam, but it moved like a sinker. Underhand delivery was rare enough to adjust to, and when it was on with that movement, even solid contact didn't carry.
Groundball extraordinaire. That's why I always tensed up a bit more when Si-hwan hyung came in. Grounders meant infield defense mattered big time for his ERA.
Crack!
The batter chased the dropping sinker, but it was weak contact. Easy play—but no room for lapses. Eyes on the ball till the end.
“Liner right at short—bounces up! Cha Tae-hyun stays cool, snags it, and fires to first! Textbook focus from Cha Tae-hyun!”
Si-hwan hyung's heavy movement caused those irregular hops often. Throw to first for the out, and he pumped his fist in joy.
Next pitch.
Crack!
Another grounder my way—routine, no weird bounce, slow speed. Drop a play like this, you're no shortstop. Scoop and throw to first.
“Out!”
Clean inning erased. The Winners bats were choking up, clearly targeting our outfield hole, but Si-hwan hyung wasn't having it.
As I headed to the dugout, here came Si-hwan hyung, as always. Gratitude time. (And this happened even without my highlights.)
“Whoa... Thanks a ton, Tae-hyun! You always keep me alive out there.”
“Like I always say, Si-hwan hyung—just doing my job at short.”
“Nah, there are shortstops who can't even do the basics. That's why I gotta thank you. Right? I'm always grateful. Without you, I'd be pushing 6 ERA right now?”
I gave an awkward smile and nodded. Couldn't argue with that earnest face.
“Man, today's game was a nail-biter.”
Post-game on the team bus, Sin Si-woo in the next seat piped up. Yeah, it was close. Held 5-3 through 8, then Geon-hyuk hyung loaded the bases in the 9th, yanking fans' chains. If we'd blown it, he'd be Piggyback Cart fodder for weeks.
“Eh, bad luck though. No way Hoon-gi hyung goes down, no loaded bases.”
“True... Just that outfield error, and the inning's over.”
Sin Si-woo glanced around and whispered, “Our depth is straight-up hopeless, right?”
“Not 'right'—it is hopeless. Jun-ho hyung today was probably our best outfield backup.”
“No way... You're messing with me.”
“Deny reality all you want.”
Sin Si-woo shook his head. “Hoon-gi hyung won't be back quick? Looked like it hurt bad.”
“Probably not. Hamstring vibes.”
His face fell instantly. I was impressed by the team spirit... until.
“...Screwed. Whole family's coming for Children's Day.”
That was it.
“Scared we'll lose?”
“Yeah, my cousins keep calling me 'hyung' or 'oppa,' begging for a win. They all became Phoenix fans 'cause of me...”
I nodded despite thinking he was over-worrying one hole. Jo Jun-ho's bat was Si-woo level or better, from what I'd seen. Translation: no answer.
“Don't stress too much though.”
“Huh? You pitching on Children's Day early?”
“What—no need to grind my shoulder. Look.”
I pulled up the first-team roster moves on my phone.
“They already demoted Jun-ho hyung and Hoon-gi hyung to Double-A...?”
“Yup, called up two outfielders. If they're swapping that fast, better options than Jun-ho hyung.”
“And if not?”
Then...
“We grind harder.”
Our team was pretty unique, in my book. Merc with a Kimpi Tang Chips obsession, weird Ro-un hyung, Maxwell reading the Bible in the dugout...
I figured nothing could top that level of eccentricity.
I was wrong.
“Tch! Hoon-mo, was it? What's that hideous mark of heresy? Please, stop the blasphemy.”
“The blasphemy's coming from you, Maxwell. This isn't a heretical mark—it's the Phoenix Cross, symbol of the Phoenix Church.”
A Christian and a cultist scrapping on a baseball team? Never saw that coming.
“Jesus... You're deep in the cult! Come to church with me.”
“Church? This is my house of faith. No need for that.”
Headache. For real. Hoon-mo hyung spoke English too, so their beef never ended.
I sidled up to the coach. “Coach... what's the deal with Phoenix Church? Some kinda gimmick?”
“Gimmick? Nah. Started right before his Sangmu stint.”
Not even that. Quick search—no Phoenix Church online. Insanity? But he'd just done military ball with Sangmu...
“...He's a bit odd, but a real good kid. Hard worker, solid skills. And super filial. That weird church? Probably for his mom.”
“His mom?”
“Asked once—said believing keeps her stable. Didn't pry further.”
“Got it... Doesn't matter. Good player, good guy?”
“Exactly.”
“Then he's golden.”
Cult or not, his business. As long as he doesn't recruit me...
Vrrr.
Phone buzzed in my pocket.