Spring Camp – No Mercy, All Work
The closing camp had been nothing. It was nothing.
“Alright, everyone, let’s go!”
Manager Han Geunseong stood at the front of the Daejeon Magpies’ training ground and clapped his hands sharply. “Get moving!”
From the other side of the parking lot came a chorus of groans that could have been heard in Seoul.
“Whoa… Do we even have a bus? Are we seriously supposed to run?”
Park Jungkyungho clutched his head, eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this real? We have to run there?”
Woo Jeong-geun sighed the sigh of a man who had already accepted his fate. “Jungkyungho-ya, this is real. The bus that used to take us to the training ground is gone now.”
Han Geunseong and the veteran players had already accepted reality, but the younger ones were still staring like they’d been hit with a bat. It wasn’t until the moment they started running that the truth finally sank in: every single day of spring camp was going to be this brutal.
“Everyone, wake up and get ready to run. From today on, every day will be like this. Get used to it fast.”
Mad. This is really starting strong.
From the very first morning, Choi Seungtaek understood exactly how vicious this spring camp would be. He had barely slept the night before, replaying the fantasy of skipping the run entirely.
At least let them drop me off at the training ground…
In the end the veterans led the charge and every player followed. The miles blurred together, but around the one-hour mark the training ground finally came into view like a mirage.
“I’m pissed. How the hell does it take exactly one hour?”
“Then just run faster and we’ll get there sooner!”
“Why run faster? Is there more practice to do?”
They were all huffing for breath when the manager’s voice cut through the air again.
“Pitchers, move to the outfield area! Batters, entire morning is fungo hitting! Move now!”
Even after the long run, joy lasted only a moment before the real work began. Three hours of nonstop throwing, fielding, and catching followed. Then a short meal break. After that, six straight hours of hell for the afternoon.
Finally, before dinner, another forced run back to the dorms. For the pitchers it meant shoulder recovery. For the hitters it meant no such mercy—night batting practice waited immediately after the evening meal.
That was spring camp in a nutshell.
***
And it had already been two weeks.
As morning defensive work wound down, the manager appeared before Seungtaek with a face so grave it could have stopped traffic.
“Seungtaek, come here a second.”
“What is it?”
Seungtaek’s stomach dropped the second he heard the manager’s tone. He already knew.
“I’m really sorry. I got this news out of nowhere from above. Manager Han is sending you to the second team.”
The manager looked physically pained to deliver the words.
Seungtaek had never missed a single session. He had taken every defensive drill seriously, always volunteering to catch. He had carried the position like it was his own life. And yet here was Han Geunseong, cruel and practical, ordering his best resource to the Futures.
They basically decided the remaining three catchers are the first-team guys now. Too harsh. This kid’s worked so hard…
The manager opened his mouth to comfort him, but Seungtaek answered brightly anyway.
“Second-team training ground, right? I understand. I’ll head back to Korea right away!”
“Ah… yeah. Pack your stuff and go. The second-team players are at the Seosan grounds.”
“Got it! Thank you for everything while we were in Okinawa.”
The manager watched the young catcher’s radiant smile and felt strangely hollow.
Seungtaek, meanwhile, was already calculating.
Second team? This is honey, baby. Let’s go.
The spring camp was supposed to be even worse, and they thought they could break me? Dream on.
For the first time in months he allowed himself a genuine, evil little smile.
Two weeks of spring camp without a single injury? Perfect. But the thought still tasted like a curse.
His appetite had also changed. Every bite now felt like punishment. If anything, the second-team assignment was his one and only escape hatch.
As he walked back toward the dorm, the math was already running in his head.
Dorm to the airport: one hour. Flight to Korea: three. Seosan if I push it: almost twenty-four hours straight. Finally… I get rest!
People make plans. But not every plan survives contact with reality.
***
Meanwhile the catcher group had gone into emergency mode.
“What? Seungtaek got the second-team notice and already flew back to Korea?”
Park Gyeok-po shot upright in his chair. “Is that true?”
“Yes. He packed his bags and left the dorm for the airport this morning.”
Even Jungkyungho, who had just heard the news, looked stunned.
“This is bad.”
If Seungtaek was gone, the first-team catcher spots would go to the remaining three. They should have been relieved. Instead they felt the weight of every missed shift, every extra throw, every extra game.
They had come with only four catchers. Rotation had already been brutal. But because Seungtaek had always eaten every defensive drill, the others had quietly stolen tiny breaks he never took.
Now the schedule rotated among three catchers, the ball came faster and more often, and every batter had to throw back too. No more free passes.
We’re done.
Jo Oosoo, who had just returned from knee rehab, overheard the same story and cursed so loud the walls shook.
“What kind of nonsense is that? That kid worked his ass off and now they’re sending him to the second team? Explain it!”
He cornered the manager and got the same answer: “Manager Han’s order.”
Jo Oosoo’s face darkened. He knew that look. He had been the same age and same position when Han had done the exact same thing to him.
“Aigoo, if I had known I could have stayed here without a problem. Timing couldn’t have been worse… Wait, I was the one supposed to tell him. How the hell did that kid find out?”
Jo Oosoo’s chest tightened. He knew Seungtaek had been the one carrying the entire catcher group. Every time someone else got hurt or tired, Seungtaek had stepped in without complaint. Now the kid was out, smiling on the outside, but Jo Oosoo could feel the pain radiating off him.
***
When evening practice ended and Seungtaek still hadn’t shown up at the manager’s office, Han Geunseong snapped his fingers.
“Where’s Seungtaek?”
“Manager, you did send him to the second team, right?”
“He actually left?”
“Yes! He caught the flight back to Korea earlier today!”
Han Geunseong’s face went through several emotions in half a second. “Oh no…”
“Wait. This is ppang-ki.”
But Han Geunseong was no rookie. He had seen the exact same thing happen with younger players before. The kid wasn’t slacking off—he was desperately trying to get out of a hellish schedule he couldn’t survive.
“No, no, not ppang-ki. How could Seungtaek do something like that? He trained harder than anyone.”
Then it’s time to crank it up even harder.
Han Geunseong reached for the folder that contained the old, higher-intensity punishment routine he had used on Lee Chang-ryong years ago. The one that didn’t just toughen players—it made them beg to stay on the field.
“Seungtaek… two weeks on the training ground. No exceptions. If the second-team manager lets him in, kick him out.”
“Kick him out?”
“That’s right.”
Two weeks of nothing. No field. No practice. No ball. Just pure psychological warfare designed to make the catcher claw for the right to play.
***
At six in the evening, Choi Seungtaek stepped off the plane at Incheon International Airport.
“Ugh… already six. I’m not sure I can make it to Seosan straight through.”
He stood at the information counter, torn between the direct bus to Seosan and the slower one to Daejeon.
His phone vibrated.
Seosan 2nd Team Director.
“Seungtaek?”
“Yes! I just landed! Heading straight to Seosan!”
“Hold on a second, Seungtaek.”
The director’s voice sounded unusually hesitant.
“Han Geunseong told me to tell you… no training ground for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
“That’s right. That’s how it is.”
“Understood! Thank you!”
The director hung up before Seungtaek could reply.
What the…
Seungtaek stared at the blank screen, stunned.
Turns out Manager Han Geunseong is actually a good guy. He gave me two whole weeks of rest as compensation for how hard I worked.
Seungtaek felt the weight of every single punishing drill lift off his shoulders.
“People only get it when they live it themselves. You can’t understand until you’ve been there, right?”
He exhaled, a small, satisfied laugh escaping his lips.
Two weeks of freedom. Finally.