Reverse Yeopo
Just as Suwon Wizard fans were starting to treat their new general manager’s inaugural speech less like a bold vision and more like pure nonsense—
The bombshell dropped.
Only a few months after the player who had delivered them the joy of a championship was now being shipped out.
A few days earlier.
Suwon Wizards general manager’s office.
“…”
The operations director clutched his head. Of course he did.
“The bites should start coming any day now…”
The more he listened to the newly appointed general manager, the more his skull throbbed.
“Uh, GM?”
“Yes? What is it?”
“I understand we need starting pitching. The thin staff was a real problem in the fall classic this year… But you’re seriously putting these players on the trade block?”
“Yes.”
Watching the GM nod so cheerfully, the director decided to explain it in terms even a child could grasp.
“These are all core players for the Suwon Wizards. On the field and off it… You know that, right?”
“Of course. I’m not a former player, but I know baseball.”
“Especially Lee Dae-beom, Park Ji-han, and An Sung-woo. They’re franchise stars. Jersey sales put them in the top ranks every year. And Gong Ji-hoo—”
Until recently he had been nothing more than an ordinary second-team guy.
“—has even more potential than those three. Plenty of star power, too. And on top of that…”
“He’s also the Korean Series MVP?”
“Yes.”
The GM clicked his tongue.
“You’re missing the important part.”
“The important part?”
“In a pro organization, the single most important thing is winning.”
“…”
“Franchise stars? Players with star power? Don’t need any of it. What matters most is a championship! Just look at Major League Baseball—the best league in the world.”
That championship, though…
As if reading the director’s mind, the GM pressed on.
“Of course! I’m not denying that these so-called Golden Generation kids were the main drivers of this season’s title, but…”
“Then—!”
“It was basically a miracle. Let’s think about this rationally. Do you really believe Gong Ji-hoo’s Korean Series numbers are his baseline?”
“…”
The director couldn’t bring himself to say yes. Because—
“A batting average over .600. Power that cleared the fence almost every game. You start wondering if the guy’s the god of hitting. But you all know, right? High chance it was a fluke.”
Gong Ji-hoo’s postseason numbers had been absurdly good. And honestly, the player still hadn’t fully proven himself.
Just like the new GM said.
“I get that he’s a genius-level talent. I’m not a former player, but I know numbers like that don’t just fall out of the sky. Still—he only played well for two months, didn’t he?”
Bluntly put—
“If that trauma or whatever suddenly comes back, doesn’t he just turn into a Minor League Yeopo all over again?”
The director started to waver under the GM’s absolute certainty.
“I’ve got the entire Golden Generation listed as trade chips, Director. But number one on the list is Gong Ji-hoo. Selling high is the first rule of business, isn’t it? And…”
“He still hasn’t become a true franchise star. Plus we’ve got Shin Tae-yong as a replacement option.”
“Exactly!”
Finally starting to buy into my vision. The GM nodded. Right then—
“GM! Call from the Rhinos!”
The secretary’s voice.
“The Rhinos… Who do they have?”
“The most realistic piece is Lee Min-ho. Solid starter who eats 150 innings every season. This year’s ERA is—”
“Wins?”
“Huh? Ah… He’s a 10-win pitcher.”
“Good. Very good.”
.
.
.
“Man… Aren’t I something? That old baseball front-office drama that was a hit—I wouldn’t be surprised if they green-light a sequel just from watching me! Hahaha!”
“…”
“They asked for Lee Dae-beom, and I shut it down hard. No way. So we settled on Gong Ji-hoo instead. This is a win!”
Is it really?
The operations director couldn’t shake the feeling.
The Rhinos side accepted the Gong Ji-hoo card way too easily. Almost like… they’d been targeting him from the start.
He felt like they’d been played.
“Plenty of people looked down on me for not being a former player, but I’ve done my homework! This is show-and-prove right here!”
The director swallowed the bitter taste along with his tea. In the end, the final decision-maker in the front office was the general manager.
Still.
Even the director didn’t fully grasp it yet.
That the scariest people of all are the ones who only half-know what they’re talking about.
Don’t come asking us
We’ve only been using him properly for two months
Ah… ahhh…
(Photo of Gong Ji-hoo swinging)
The real Yeopo, Gong Ji-hoo!
Two days had passed since the trade news broke, but the fan communities were still on fire.
And Gong Ji-hoo—
“Daegu, huh…”
—had arrived in Daegu.
“It’s me. Oh Jin-muk. See you in Daegu.”
He’d come after a message from the player who was now his senior on the new team.
The Suwon Wizards.
My first team, and in the first timeline, the last team I ever played for until retirement.
My feelings about this club were… complicated.
“Sorry, and thank you.”
I had been a prospect. A super prospect who hit .400 in the second team. But in the first team I never showed a single spark—just a washed-up prospect. Even so, the Suwon Wizards kept calling me up and giving me chances. Sure, a big part of it was that they couldn’t afford to give up on a guy dropping nuclear bombs in the minors. Still, I was grateful to the team that never forgot about me.
“That doesn’t mean I was planning to devote my entire life to the Suwon Wizards, though…”
I wasn’t a Suwon Wizard fan. I had affection for the team, but I never had the “this team or retirement” mindset. Still—
“Honestly, I’m still kind of dazed.”
It had been that sudden. But then again, trades always come out of nowhere. You see it in the news all the time—guys who found out they’d been traded by reading the article. In that sense, the Suwon Wizards had done their best.
“They gave me a heads-up before the story dropped.”
As an organization, they’d shown as much consideration as they could. So—
“…Hoo.”
What happened, happened. All I could do was give everything I had from here on out. Still—
Lee Dae-beom.
Park Ji-han.
And An Sung-woo.
The fact that players I could now call friends, not just teammates, were suddenly on a different team left a bit of a bitter taste.
“Pro ball really is cold.”
I arrived at the spot Oh Jin-muk had pinned. A café right in front of Rhinos Park.
“Why did this senior even contact me, though?”
Our only real connection was the walk-off homer I’d hit off him this season. That was pretty much it.
“Maybe he’s just insanely friendly?”
I hadn’t heard anything like that, though.
Ding-a-ling!
I pushed open the door of the quiet café—empty enough, given it was the off-season and right next to a ballpark—and looked for Oh Jin-muk.
He wasn’t there.
Baseball players don’t exactly blend into the background wherever they go. On TV they all look average, but in person most of them are built like tanks. Except for a few short guys, anyway. I was one of those tanks myself. 190 centimeters isn’t exactly a height you see every day. And Oh Jin-muk was a little bigger than me. Yet none of the people in the café had that kind of frame.
Guess he’s not here yet…
Right then—
“Gong Ji-hoo?”
A bright, clear voice.
I’ve got fans even in Daegu… Gong Ji-hoo’s really made it.
Thinking that, I turned toward the voice—
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
—and for a second I couldn’t process the words.
“…Excuse me?”
“You said we’d meet in Daegu.”
The only person who’d said that was Oh Jin-muk.
“Uh…”
It was definitely a woman’s voice.
Had the genre of this world suddenly switched to gender-bender or something?
“Ahaha! Gong Ji-hoo, you really are a writer—your imagination’s wild.”
Even hearing it again, the voice was incredibly bright and clear.
“Uh…”
My brain cells weren’t firing properly under the sudden situation.
“My older brother is such an idiot he probably didn’t explain properly. This must be pretty confusing, right?”
Slurp.
I took a sip of iced americano. Okay, calming down a little.
“No, it’s fine. More importantly—you’re Oh Jin-muk’s younger sister?”
If her face had been blank she would’ve been called an ice beauty without question. But the flushed expression and sunny smile wiped that impression clean, and the apology lingering in her eyes hinted at a warm personality. And more than anything—
“I’m Oh Jin-ah.”
—it was a face I’d run into before.
“I do personal broadcasting. I even threw out the first pitch for the Suwon Wizards—do you remember? Playoff Game 1.”
“Yeah.”
Definitely.
“Number 22…”
“You actually remember! I’m a Gong Ji-hoo fan, you know.”
Lee Dae-beom’s comments about her floated back up.
“But I heard you were a Swallows fan.”
“That’s right!”
She looked oddly proud. So—
“You’re the sister of a Rhinos player, but you root for the Swallows, and the player you like is a Wizard?”
“Nope. Now the player I like is a Rhinos player too.”
Ah. Right. I was a Rhinos player now.
“And just because my brother’s on the Rhinos doesn’t mean I have to be a Rhinos fan, right? I’ve been a Swallows fan since way before that.”
Fair enough.
“So even though the player you like just landed on the Rhinos, no chance of switching teams…?”
“Absolutely not!”
No betrayal here. Oh Jin-ah said it with her chest puffed out.
Classic Swallows. The team with the highest fan loyalty in the KBO. At this point I half-wondered if they had a hypnosis app.
“Then… did you want to meet me for some kind of fan meetup?”
“I told you, I’m Oh Jin-muk’s sister.”
“And?”
“…Don’t tell me my brother didn’t even mention this? He said he told you ages ago.”
“Mention what?”
“Haa…”
I never should’ve left this to someone who can’t even talk properly. She muttered that to herself, and then—
“Honestly, I’m more of a fan of Gong Ji-hoo the writer than Gong Ji-hoo the player. Of course I like you as a player too!”
—the bombshell dropped.
“I’m SwallowsCantPlayBaseball. That’s me.”
Pffffft!!!
You see it in dramas all the time—someone spitting out their drink after hearing something shocking.
“W-who did you say you were?”
Turns out that scene is pretty realistic.