The First Button for the Championship
< p>The air in the stadium crackled with electric tension as the ninth inning unfolded, the scoreboard lights reflecting off sweat-slicked foreheads and gleaming bats. Seungtaek crouched behind the plate, his chest rising and falling in measured rhythm, the leather of his mitt cool against his palms. The crowd roared like a living beast, their chants blending into a single deafening wave.
< p>Thud—thud—thud.
< p>Seungtaek’s glove snapped down again, but the ball escaped once more.
< p>Crack!
< p>With a sharp, resounding crack, the bat connected, sending the white pill soaring high into the night sky.
< p>Three-two-three!
< p>Seoul Suseok High had triumphed! They had defeated Gwangju Hana High in the semifinals!
< p>“Nice!!!”
< p>“Wooaaah!”
< p>Seungtaek stood, chest heaving, a wide grin breaking across his face as the final out sealed the victory. Kang Taepoong, the opposing ace, had thrown everything he had—his fastball, his slider, even a desperate sinker down and in. But the Seoul catcher had read every movement, every twitch of the glove. And now, with the game wrapped up in a complete-game shutout, both pitchers could stand with satisfied sighs.
< p>Cheers erupted from the dugout. Teammates slapped backs, laughter bouncing off the walls. But Kang Taepoong, still buzzing from the loss, was already being waved toward the interview area.
< p>“Whoa! The kid’s getting an interview!”
< p>Seungtaek’s voice carried across the dugout, sharp and playful. Kim Minjae turned, eyes narrowing with that mischievous glint he always wore when trouble was brewing.
< p>Minjae caught the look. He grinned, nodding once.
< p>“Yeah. Hot summer’s no time for relaxation.”
< p>They moved fast, wheels spinning as the two of them sprinted to the equipment room. Within minutes, a massive ice box sat in the center of the room—filled to the brim with ice and water, the weight already pressing down on their shoulders.
< p>“But Seungtaek-ah.”
< p>“What?”
< p>“This thing… damn, it’s heavier than a truck. How are we supposed to dump it on his head?”
< p>Minjae’s voice came out strained, his arms trembling as they tried to lift the thing even an inch. The ice sloshed loudly inside, the chill already seeping through the plastic.
< p>Seungtaek laughed, that low, cocky sound. “Plan B, remember?”
< p>“Plan B?”
< p>“Yeah. You step in.”
< p>“What?”
< p>“You stand in front of me. I dump the water on you.”
< p>“Ah!”
< p>Minjae’s eyes widened in realization. The two of them groaned in unison as they dragged the ice box toward the interview area, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls. They had no idea that Kang Taepoong, right now, was smiling calmly into the camera, completely unaware of the icy surprise waiting for him.
< p>The interview was still rolling when Seungtaek and Minjae arrived. The camera crew noticed them immediately. Seungtaek shot a quick hand signal—quiet, calm, almost apologetic. The director smiled warmly, understanding everything. He gave a small nod.
< p>“Today’s complete-game shutout was incredible,” the reporter began smoothly. “Could you tell us how Seoul Suseok High pulled off such a victory?”
< p>Kang Taepoong answered with the calm poise of a man who had faced far worse than this. “I believe the team’s unity was what carried us here.”
< p>Seungtaek’s jaw dropped. For a second, he was stunned.
< p>“Wow, the kid’s a natural at this. Did he put butter on his tongue?”
< p>“He’s usually so fiery on the mound, but in an interview like this? Must be a saint.”
< p>“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
< p>The two of them whispered back and forth, fighting to keep laughter from spilling out until the interview finally wrapped.
< p>“There’s another big story today,” the reporter continued, voice rising with excitement. “The matchup between Kang Taepoong and Lee Tae-yang looked like it could be the Gwangju Pigeons versus the Gangdong Falcons clash everyone’s been talking about. Have you heard anything about that?”
< p>“Well,” Kang answered smoothly, “since we were the first overall picks, the talk started there. But we’re still just rookies in the pros. We can’t compare the rivalry to the actual teams yet. This is just a great experience for both of us.”
< p>‘Clever bastard. He slipped right through the net.’
< p>Seungtaek’s eyes narrowed. The kid’s tongue had been buttery smooth—almost like a veteran who’d already survived free agency.
< p>“So, excluding Kang Taepoong, which player had the most outstanding performance today?”
< p>“Outstanding?”
< p>“I’d say Choi Seungtaek was the biggest hero in this game.”
< p>“Choi Seungtaek… the catcher?”
< p>“Yes, even though his stats don’t show it, he called every pitch perfectly and finished the game with a crucial RBI. That’s why he’s the MVP.”
< p>Seungtaek felt his stomach turn.
< p>“Ugh. I’m gonna puke.”
< p>“I feel sick too. Should we do it now?”
< p>Minjae and Seungtaek locked eyes for a split second. A silent signal passed between them.
< p>“On three!”
< p>“One!”
< p>“Two!”
< p>“Three!”
< p>“Woooaaah!”
< p>The interview was barely over when the two of them burst into the area, screaming. They grabbed Kang Taepoong and dragged him toward the ice box before he could even react.
< p>“Wait—wait, what are you—”
< p>Kang’s eyes went wide. The camera crew cheered, shouting into the mics as the chase followed.
< p>“Oh, looks like your friends are playing a joke on you.”
< p>“Usually they’d pour from above, but what are they doing now?”
< p>Seungtaek and Minjae slammed Kang into the ice box without mercy.
< p>“Ahh! It’s freezing!!”
< p>Kang thrashed like a fresh mackerel on the hook, splashing water everywhere. The two older boys shoved him back down again and again.
< p>His posture was awful, and every time he tried to stand, they pushed him right back down. Laughter echoed through the dugout—loud, unfiltered, and merciless.
< p>“Hey, the starter threw nine full innings and now we’re doing icing and an interview? You guys are really looking out for us, huh?”
< p>Seungtaek gave him a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “We prepared this just for you! Thank you?”
< p>Kang’s face burned with fury. He tried to curse, but the cameras were rolling, so the words died in his throat.
< p>“This is too cold!”
< p>“It’s called icing. Ice therapy. Think of it as shoulder management. Where else do you have a catcher who takes care of everything like this?”
< p>Seungtaek finally let out a satisfied laugh. The sound was warm, almost fatherly.
< p>Then the mic was shoved into his hand.
< p>“Huh? Why me?”
< p>“Choi Seungtaek, you need to do an interview too. You’re next.”
< p>Of course. Seungtaek was a hot potato in the baseball world. Reporters had been begging for this. The network wasted no time.
< p>They marched him over to the same spot. Seungtaek’s heart hammered. In high school and even in the pros, he had always watched this moment from the dugout. Now it was his turn.
< p>“Hello! Choi Seungtaek, the catcher!”
< p>His knees nearly buckled.
< p>“Choi Seungtaek?”
< p>“Yes! Hello!”
< p>“Kang Taepoong called you the player of the game. What do you think about that?”
< p>Seungtaek hesitated. The reporter’s steady interview had rubbed him the wrong way. He decided to loosen up.
< p>“Well, obviously I did everything in this game.”
< p>“Excuse me?”
< p>The reporter froze for half a second.
< p>“So you’re going to the finals. How do you feel about that?”
< p>Seungtaek took a step forward, gripping the mic. His eyes locked with the camera. The whole stadium seemed to hold its breath.
< p>“Hey, Go Tae-san.”
< p>The reporter nearly dropped the mic.
< p>“The kids I’ve been throwing with lately have all been washed up. You’re the only one left.”
< p>The camera crew shifted uncomfortably, but they didn’t cut away. Seungtaek zoomed in on the shot.
< p>“Last time it was easy, right? This time it’ll be tough. I’ll bet on it. See you on Sunday.”
< p>Seungtaek handed the mic back and walked off with a calm smile.
< p>“Wow. What an amazing interview.”
< p>“We never could have imagined anything like that.”
< p>Both announcers chuckled, shaking their heads. The semifinals were now officially on fire.
< p>“So in the pros, how do they handle an interview like that?”
< p>“Big trouble, huh?”
< p>---
< p>Seungtaek stepped into Manager Kim Ik-hyun’s office after the game. The manager was still buzzing with victory.
< p>“You little brat, if you talk like that in an interview…”
< p>“I’m sorry, Manager.”
< p>“You got a call from the Buma High coach because of you.”
< p>“Sorry.”
< p>“It’s not like I’m mad.”
< p>Manager Kim’s face shone with pure joy.
< p>“You won. Do whatever it takes.”
< p>He was no longer a coach trying to manage Seungtaek’s every move. He was a manager who understood what it meant to have a superstar on his roster.
< p>“Any extra requests for the Buma High matchup?”
< p>“A blank check, you could say.”
< p>“I’ll give you full autonomy.”
< p>“Thank you, Manager.”
< p>“What do you need?”
< p>“I’d like to change my batting order.”
< p>“Change it?”
< p>“Instead of third, I want to bat first.”
< p>Manager Kim raised an eyebrow.
< p>“The standard lineup goes like this: one for speed, two for speed or smart decisions, three for the best hitter, four for the strongest bat, and five for another good one. We call the top five the leadoff line.”
< p>“We know.”
< p>“But in the majors, some teams don’t follow that formula.”
< p>“Really?”
< p>“They send the best hitter up more often because more bases get on that way.”
< p>“So you want to bat first?”
< p>“Yes, Manager.”
< p>Manager Kim nodded slowly, impressed.
< p>“Alright. We’ll make it happen.”
< p>Seungtaek stepped out, a quiet smile on his face. The first button of the championship had been sewn on tight. And the season was only just beginning.