The Autumn Camp Begins – A Fresh Test of Grit
The first-team, second-team, and developmental players were already known quantities. There was no real need to evaluate them all over again — but Manager Han Geunseong wanted to see their skills with his own eyes.
That was why a wrap-up camp usually left the veterans out. It was extra work for first-team players judged to be lacking, for the second team, and for the developmental guys, and a proving ground for the rookies. On Manager Han Geunseong's orders, though, every player on the roster would be evaluated from scratch.
"The manager doesn't play favorites, and he doesn't discriminate. This wrap-up camp is, for all intents and purposes, an evaluation of what you can do — so don't let it get in your heads."
"Yes, sir!"
"From here on, the managers will move you according to the schedule. Stay focused and follow along."
"Yes, sir!"
With so many players packed onto the grounds, the Okinawa Training Ground rang with their voices. The managers started sorting them off the list, and every player was grouped by position.
Choi Seungtaek was, of course, assigned to the catchers. Every catcher on the Daejeon Magpies ended up in one place.
"Nine of you. You'll rotate through three drills in groups of three. First up — Park Gyeok-po, Choi Seungtaek, Jung Kyungho. Pitch blocking."
Choi Seungtaek looked at the two catchers he'd been paired with. One was a veteran with years of mileage. The other was the Magpies' current starter. He headed over to the blocking station with both of them.
"You're Choi Seungtaek? First overall in the first round this year, right?"
"That's right."
"Whoa — they took a catcher first overall? That's something, isn't it? Kid looks like he might actually have it."
True to form, Park Gyeok-po broke the ice first, and the potentially stiff atmosphere loosened at once.
"Alright. We're starting. Get ready."
"I'll go first."
Choi Seungtaek taking the first ball kicked off the blocking drill.
"Hup!"
He smothered it cleanly and tossed the ball back.
"Oh! Kid's got it. Nice and stable!"
"That's a first-overall catcher for you!"
"Thank you."
They tossed out light praise when he didn't freeze up the way they'd expected.
"Why so quiet, though?"
Why do you think? I need to save my breath.
He couldn't exactly say that out loud, so he kept his mouth shut and did the work, looking every bit the slightly frozen rookie.
Time passed. Before they knew it, they'd blocked thirty balls.
"Aigoo, my knees. If this is a test, we should be wrapping up about now."
"You'd think so."
Park Gyeok-po's body was starting to feel it.
"I don't think we're anywhere close. See those boxes back there?"
Choi Seungtaek's sharp eyes had picked out the crates they kept restocking with balls.
"They're not making us go through all of those, right?"
Veterans that they were, they read their own futures perfectly.
Before long, the blocking count had blown past a hundred.
"Something's off about this."
"I'll ask. How long are we supposed to keep blocking?"
"The manager said to go through every last box."
Jung Kyungho finally couldn't take it and asked — then shut his mouth again the moment he heard it was the manager's order, and they went back to blocking.
"Hoo… hoooo… hoo…"
"Hah… haah… nngh."
"Nngh…"
The drill kept going, and all three catchers were completely spent. The lower halves of their uniforms were caked in dirt. The two veterans who'd started out chatting so easily were running out of words. Choi Seungtaek had never done this much blocking either, so he just kept his head down and worked.
"Alright! That's all of them — we're done!"
"Ugh…"
"Haaah…"
After spending the entire morning session on nothing but blocking, the three catchers dropped onto the ground, exhausted.
"Hold on, Coach. How's the rest of the work going to go?"
"Ah — Gyeok-po! Uh… after lunch, you'll do stolen-base prevention first, then framing."
"Same intensity as this?"
"Probably? Yeah, I'd say so."
Park Gyeok-po's face went dark in a hurry. The other two didn't look any happier.
"Ah, hell. We're fucked."
"Aigoo…"
At lunch, the cafeteria was dotted with groans that had no business being there. Players who'd been scattered across the field all gathered in one place, laughing at one another's filthy uniforms.
"Damn. You guys got wrecked too, huh? How was it?"
Park Gyeok-po, dirt caked around his knees, asked Woo Jeong-geun. Woo Jeong-geun was covered in dirt from head to toe, looking like his soul had already left the building.
"The manager himself ran our fungo. I thought I was going to die. Must've been a thousand balls, easy…"
"Heh-heh-heh-heh."
"Damn. Manager's still going strong."
They grumbled quietly as they filled their trays, but nobody had much of an appetite. The food went down slow. The sudden jump in intensity had left them a little sick of it already — and in no hurry to get back on the field.
"Hey, Woo-geun — how long are we supposed to keep this up?"
Jung Kyungho asked because Woo Jeong-geun was the one who actually knew Manager Han Geunseong. Woo Jeong-geun didn't say much.
"Just do it and feel it out. Think of it as building the feel of doing it right, without mistakes…"
"Haaah…"
"And yeah — this is still just the test. This isn't even real training yet."
"What? What did you just say?"
"What I said. This isn't training."
The faces around the table went grim.
The long day of training finally ended. After dinner, the coaching staff and veteran players gathered in the meeting room under Manager Han Geunseong. With one morning course and two afternoon courses done, they started evaluating the players they'd reviewed with the coaches.
"Starting with the pitchers — nobody really stood out. We've got one guy we can use as a starter. That's it."
The bad news came first.
"Hmm. The bullpen?"
"Not a lot of good arms there either."
"Not many who even passed?"
"We've only got one guy who looks like a high-leverage arm."
"Then how the hell are we supposed to play baseball?"
The scouts and coaches exchanged uneasy looks. Pitching was the heart of the game — and almost nobody in those critical roles had even earned a passing grade.
"We'll reinforce the pitching staff through free agency."
"The pitchers. Crank the intensity up starting now."
"Yes, sir."
"By spring camp, at least half of them need to be passing. At the very least we need to know who's starting and who's in the high-leverage group."
"Yes, sir."
The pitchers' schedule started getting thicker.
Training. Training. Training. Training.
Morning — 1 session
Afternoon — 2 sessions
Night — 1 session
One in the morning, two in the afternoon, one at night. A brutal chart, locked in.
"The position players?"
"We're definitely weak in the infield."
"Hmm."
It was true. Manager Han Geunseong had hit infield fungo himself, so he'd felt it firsthand. The Daejeon Magpies infield had two national-team-caliber players: first baseman Tae Pyung-yang and second baseman Woo Jeong-geun. Everyone else — shortstop and third — was weak, and today had confirmed it.
"Right now they can't even field the ball. That's the most basic thing."
"That's correct, sir."
The Magpies Head Coach said it with a note of regret, and Manager Han Geunseong sat with it.
"Run the infielders through proper work and get their skills up. I'll look for a backup myself. I know a guy. Need to give him a call."
"Yes, sir."
The infielders' schedule started filling up with training just the same.
"The outfield's pretty solid. Center fielder Lee Gun-taek is still rehabbing and hasn't come back yet, but the others are doing well."
"Hmm. Good. Then add batting work to the outfielders' night session."
"Yes, sir."
Doing well didn't mean less work. Even the outfielders, who'd mostly passed on defense, got night sessions added to their charts.
"Catchers?"
"I was really worried, but they're not as bad as I expected."
"That so?"
He'd been told the catching corps was weak, so the answer caught him a little off guard.
"We don't have a league-elite catcher, but it looks like we can finally run three of them."
"Kyungho and Gyeok-po were the starter and the backup, right?"
"That's right."
"Then who's the third?"
"The new rookie. Choi Seungtaek."
"A rookie?"
A rookie catcher sliding into the third slot — that gave him pause.
"Yes. He's a rookie, but he tested well. By the list you laid out, he's at the passing line."
"So he's better than the second-team catchers and the developmental guys."
"Yes. He's clearly better than the rest. He's not great at all three — blocking, throwing out runners, framing — but he's not bad at any of them either."
Rookie catchers who made it to the pros usually needed a long time to learn. Hearing that this one was already serviceable right out of the gate was a little surprising.
"Alright. Tomorrow we focus on the catchers. I'll know once I see him myself."
"Yes, sir. You'll run it yourself?"
"That's the only way. That's how you know for sure."
Manager Han Geunseong kept filling his notebook, line after line. In the space next to Choi Seungtaek's name, the writing kept growing.
And just like that, tomorrow's main event belonged to the catchers.