The Legendary Veteran Visits and Sees a Rising Star
Sometimes retired players would visit the training field.
Such visits usually meant the retiree would act as a daily coach, sharing his own know-how and hard-earned experience with the players.
Especially with pitchers, it was the secret of their unique pitch arsenal that they loved to pass on. When that knowledge clicked, it was a game-changer, which is why visits from retired stars packed so much power.
In this case, the legendary veteran had come not just for the rare chance to see old teammates again, but specifically to offer advice to Antonio, the ace they were all counting on from Daejeon Magpies.
When Jeon Seol greeted Choi Seungtaek with easy familiarity, the other players shot him quick, surprised glances. But the curiosity soon faded beneath the simple joy of talking to a legend. The light banter between Seungtaek and the veteran was already slipping from memory.
While the other minor-league players and Antonio sat with Jeon Seol, sharing stories and laughter, Choi Seungtaek quietly slipped away. He had his own work to do.
“I’m glad to see you, but right now I need to get back to my training.”
Seungtaek had always planned to focus on his own drills the moment the conversation ended. The others could keep the chat going with the veteran; he wasn’t about to waste the time.
He pushed open the heavy door of the indoor training facility and stepped back into the familiar smell of sweat and rubber. The green artificial turf greeted his cleats again.
In the far corner, untouched for the moment, sat the pitching machine he had been using for framing practice.
“All right, let’s do this again.”
Seungtaek loaded a fresh ball into the machine and flipped the switch. The arms spun to life.
**PING!**
**THUD!**
The rhythmic sound filled the space as he settled into a crouched stance, mitt already open.
Time passed. Framing reps built muscle memory, the faint creak of the machine a steady heartbeat beneath his focus.
Then the door creaked open once more.
Seungtaek straightened, expecting another junior to drop by for hitting or shadow work. He scooped up the last ball and waited.
**PING!**
**THUD!**
He caught it clean.
“Yeah. That felt good.”
The ball had come right where he needed it. A satisfying frame, a quick confirmation that his glove was working exactly as the System had trained it to.
“You’re training by yourself like this?”
“Ha!”
Seungtaek jumped, spinning toward the voice.
It was Jeon Seol, leaning against the doorway with that easy, grandfatherly grin.
“Yeah! That’s right.”
“Mm… still practicing framing, huh? Interesting. Back in the majors I used to see guys who trained exactly like this sometimes.”
Jeon Seol had only watched for a second, but he had spotted the rhythm at once.
“Pitching machine to get the feel of the zone? Makes sense. Catching is easy on your own, but facing real pitchers is a different game. Solid approach. But rookie season and you’re already this deep in the books? A little hungry, aren’t you?”
Jeon Seol’s words carried truth. Seungtaek was a solid catcher—better than any rookie had a right to be. But the spot he had already locked down as the everyday starter demanded more than solid.
“I’m not just looking to be a good player,” Seungtaek thought. “I want to be the team’s ace and win the championship. So I need to change.”
The System had shown him the path, and now the words left his lips without hesitation.
“I’m not here to be just one more solid player. I want to become the ace and take us to the World Series.”
Seungtaek met Jeon Seol’s eyes and waited.
Jeon Seol read the thought instantly and smiled.
“Don’t rush yourself too hard. You’re already doing fine. Are you still happy with what you’re doing?”
“Yeah! That’s right.”
“Still not throwing much against real pitchers yet?”
“Correct.”
Jeon Seol glanced at the pitching machine, noted the velocity setting, then shut the machine off.
“140s. Right on the edge of live-ball speed. Nice. Let’s try something.”
“Huh?”
Jeon Seol took a spot where Seungtaek usually stood.
“Eh? You want to pitch to me?”
“Back when I was showing pitchers my form and how to throw the ball, I pulled something in my shoulder. Sit down. I’ll throw to you.”
Seungtaek dropped back onto the grass.
“Where do you want it?”
“Lower corner, but leave it just a touch outside the zone.”
Seungtaek shifted his mitt a fraction wider.
“Perfect. I’m going to let it hang just outside.”
Jeon Seol stepped into the windup.
**WHOOSH!**
**THWACK!**
“Oops!”
The ball had skipped off the edge of the mitt and stayed alive.
“How was that? Still alive, right?”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s called a rising fastball.”
Seungtaek glanced at the mitt, where the ball had indeed popped up off the top of the leather.
“Ready for another round? This time I’m confident you’ll catch it.”
“Absolutely!”
‘140s early in the inning. Not a fast speed, but the movement is nasty.’
Seungtaek focused, imagining the virtual strike zone and the ghost of Benjamin’s hands hovering beside his own.
**WHOOSH!**
The ball looked slower than it was. Even though it felt lazy, the spin was unmistakable.
Seungtaek’s eyes locked on the path. The System flashed green lines. He framed it perfectly.
**THWACK!**
“Wow! That one felt good. Most umps would have called it a strike for sure.”
Jeon Seol nodded, clearly pleased.
“Want a few more?”
“Absolutely!”
Seungtaek took the next pitch.
---
They trained together for another ten minutes, trading light conversation between reps.
“You’re really doing well. From the first time I saw you, I knew you had it in you.”
“Do I? I don’t know. The road still feels long and dark.”
Jeon Seol chuckled at Seungtaek’s self-deprecating tone.
“When I reach my position, people stop asking whether a certain player is good and start asking whether another player is good. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Koreans have told me stories, and Americans have too.”
‘Ah… so that’s what this is about?’
Seungtaek remembered the Baseball Together analyst on the cable show.
“So you already think you’re doing enough, but your hunger never ends, does it?”
“Haha… everyone wants to get better, right?”
“That’s the right attitude. Keep it up, and Daejeon Magpies won’t have to worry about their catcher for seven years.”
“Seven years?”
Seungtaek tilted his head.
“Free agency is usually ten. Even if I become national team, it’ll drop a bit.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. I gave you enough hints, didn’t I?”
Seungtaek’s gaze flickered. Jeon Seol’s words had just cracked open a small door to the majors.
“Hmph. You’re reading too much into it.”
“Not at all. If you keep performing like this here, who knows? I’m only saying good things. And you’re going to work hard anyway, right?”
Jeon Seol’s praise felt like a warm hand on his shoulder, but the weight only grew heavier.
“So… how do I reach the next level?”
“You’re missing something. What are you training for right now?”
“Blocking and framing. I’m not great at either.”
“Excellent question. Blocking is the catcher’s foundation. Framing is almost luck. But when both are mastered, you become rock-solid. Of course, erasing weaknesses helps, but sometimes you have to amplify your strengths.”
“Amplify my strengths?”
Seungtaek pictured the System’s list and the unique edge he had been given.
“That’s exactly what I mean. When I was in the majors, there was a Japanese pitcher—Hideo Nomo. Asian pioneer in the big leagues, the reason so many of us from this side made it.”
Jeon Seol’s eyes sparkled at the name.
“He threw a forkball like nobody else. I asked him to teach me. He refused.”
“Why?”
“Because he said if he were me, he wouldn’t have learned the forkball at all. With a killer fastball, why bother? Then he asked me how to throw that fastball better.”
“Innate talent is hard to replace,” Seungtaek murmured.
“Exactly. Changeup is something you can grind into shape, but fastball is in your blood. You have to be born with it and live it every day. Same with your strengths. Double down on whatever makes you unique.”
“I still need to fix my weaknesses if I want to last in the pros.”
“Why? Got a weakness?”
“Uh… my hitting…”
Jeon Seol tilted his head. The surface numbers looked decent, but the American coaches he had spoken to had raved about Seungtaek’s swing. The discrepancy confused the veteran.
“Ah, there’s a hitting coach I know who just came over from Korea. I’ll introduce you. Take a look for a minute. You might learn something useful.”
“Really? A major-league hitting coach? I’d be grateful!”
“Call me later. I’ve got to run. Take care.”
“Thank you so much for everything!”
Seungtaek bowed deeply, sincerity pouring into every inch of his posture.