I'll Crush the National Team That Cast Me Aside

Skipping age-group national team levels.

It happens fairly often in other sports, and there were a few cases in baseball's past as well. But ever since the weekend league system was firmly established, it's become something the baseball world deliberately avoids doing.

There's an obvious reason for the taboo. A second-year good enough to leapfrog the third-years is rare to begin with, and when such a player exists, he's already the ace of his team.

In high school baseball, the ace carries more than his own glory — he shoulders the fate of the team, and to put it bluntly, the careers of the head coach and coaching staff, plus the college prospects of every single teammate. You can't just pluck him away.

So even when a sophomore shows something special, the convention of picking a third-year of comparable ability has hardened into near-law... which is exactly why the debate caught fire.

The real problem was the current makeup of the youth national team.

There were already murmurs that this year's draft-eligible class had a shallow talent pool, and the list of selected players seemed to prove it — a few names that left something to be desired.

Then Oh Dae-eun, the team's only left-handed pitcher, went down with an injury, and on top of that, two more players from the existing position-player and pitching corps became unavailable for various reasons.

Even the roster, painstakingly cherry-picked from an already weak pool, was getting panned — and the quality of the replacement candidates being floated around was genuinely alarming.

In that context, Kim Yi-seon — a switch pitcher who could throw left and right, and even fill in at first base in a pinch — and Kang Min-hyuk, the best youth underhand pitcher in the country at this moment, were irresistibly attractive assets.

The call-them-up-versus-don't argument raged on until, half as a formality and half in earnest, the two names hardened into accepted fact.

With the media and the communities both kicking up a storm, baseball fans' attention funneled into a single question: were the two of them actually getting called up or not?

"Ah! Kim Yi-seon! Choi Young-su of the Daily Seoul! Just a quick interview—!"

"I'm sorry. Please route interview requests through my agent or the Seoul Twins organization."

The Bonghwangdae-gi had ended, and only days remained before the new semester. The moment the baseball club gathered for light training, the reporters caught the scent and came swarming.

If school had been in session, the disciplinary committee or the Twins' front office would have shut them down with surgical precision, but with everyone training at school during vacation, both safeguards were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠absent — leaving a gaping hole in security.

Fans are satisfied with a greeting and a little fan service, but these vultures were so relentless it defied belief. Straight-up ignoring me.

"Just one word about joining the youth national team—!"

"What is the meaning of this! I am the head coach of the Wirye Jeil High baseball club. Speak with me."

Coach hurried over and untangled the situation, and only then could I breathe again.

But as I caught my breath and tried to refocus on training, I felt every eye in the room collecting on me.

The entire team was staring at me and Kang Min-hyuk.

"What're you all looking at?"

"You seriously going to Cheongryong-gi or what?"

The others were busy reading my mood, but Cha Il-sung, as ever, couldn't have cared less about such delicate calculations.

I made a gesture that said my head hurt and answered.

"No. Nobody's even sent me a request, so what Cheongryong-gi? Just train."

Exactly. The media and the forums were going, We need replacement players? Then it has to be Kim Yi-seon! — gulping down Kim-chi soup before the rice was even cooked — but not a single word had actually reached me.

And nobody around me would know how a Cheongryong-gi call-up even works.

The only thing that nagged at me was that someone claiming to be the Cheongryong-gi manager had come to watch one of my games during Bonghwangdae-gi. Had I made some list or other after all?

Either way, right now I had nothing to say to anyone.

Cha Il-sung, however, was tenacious.

"Then if they call you, you're actually going? It's the national team, man. Honestly, that's kinda badass, no?"

"Not going. Leave you guys behind to go where?"

"Ooh, Kim Yi-seon, such a loyal one~"

Cha Il-sung jabbed me in the ribs, needling me for no reason. I shooed him off to go train and made my way over to Kang Min-hyuk instead.

"Hey, Kang Min-hyuk. Let's play catch."

"With me? What about Jun-soo?"

"Coach has him doing mental toughness training, apparently."

Don't ask me the logic, but apparently they're going to try rebuilding him so he can keep throwing past the sixth inning? No idea if it'll work, but it beats doing nothing.

I picked up my usual two-handed glove and started playing catch with Kang Min-hyuk. Filthy movement on the end of his pitches — filthier than my mood.

But straining to catch that bastard of a ball had a way of emptying my head.

"Kim Yi-seon. If the youth national team calls you up, what's your plan?"

"You too? I told you, I'm not going."

"Hm. The way I see it, you're still deciding."

Instead of answering, I threw full-force — well past catch-play territory. Pop! Kang Min-hyuk scooped it out of the air like it was nothing. Watching him field it, this guy should've been a catcher instead. Better than half the pros I've seen.

"It's not my call to make. It's not like I want to go, but if they select me, saying no doesn't exactly end the conversation."

The youth national team, unlike the senior WBC squad, carries no legal compulsion. Especially since this year's tournament isn't even a world championship — it's the regional Asian competition, the BFA U-18 Championship.

In principle, refusing means you don't go. But...

"No one in history has ever turned down a youth national team call-up. Not even players under major league and international contracts."

Kang Min-hyuk said it flatly. He was right. That was the problem.

Once you're on the selection list, public opinion and the general atmosphere make refusal practically impossible.

Being picked for the national team is an honor, sure — but we'd already made loud declarations, and abandoning the team for the national squad would knock the Cheongryong-gi off the Grand Slam schedule for certain, given the calendar...

I threw myself into the catch to empty my tangled head. And hey, look at this bastard, sneaking submarines into his throws like I wouldn't notice.

Youth national team manager Han Min-hwa, despite his coldly composed image, was a man who paid remarkably close attention to the people around him. Did anyone really think a youth developer with a career distinguished enough to earn the national team post managed his results on icy detachment alone?

This replacement selection proved no different.

"Manager. Are you certain this roster is acceptable? Call it a regional Asian tournament all you like — if we put up a poor showing against Japan, our sworn rival, the evaluation will be brutal."

"Chairman, the responsibility is mine. That is what a manager is."

The Power Reinforcement Committee chairman had been installed specifically for this national team convening. It was his active recommendation that had leaked the Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk story to the press in the first place.

He'd lectured at length about difficult numbers and theory, diligently explaining this and that, but whether from his own lacking education or otherwise, Han Min-hwa hadn't understood a word of it. Still, one thing he knew for certain: national team selection was, in the end, the manager's responsibility to bear.

The finalized roster went out to the assembled reporters, and skepticism leaked out one voice at a time.

Han Min-hwa stepped up onto the prepared podium and faced the press.

"For this round of youth national team injury replacements, we have selected three players: Yoo Dae-hyung, a third-year at Daehwa High; Jang Yi-chan, a third-year at Gangneung High; and Myeong Tae-min, a third-year at Seoul Munhwa High."

Flashes erupted, reporters' arms shot upward, and the overlapping shouts for recognition melted into a single incomprehensible roar.

Han Min-hwa raised a hand briefly to calm the din, then picked out one reporter and passed him the question.

"Choi Yong-min of the Goryeo Ilbo. Could you share the reasoning behind these replacement selections?"

"The national team is a place where ability matters above all. I selected the players judged to be the most capable among the available candidates."

The statement wasn't exactly wrong. If you set the bar at third-year, eighteen-year-old high schoolers, that is. At Han Min-hwa's words, the other reporters' bidding for questions grew even fiercer.

The room was past the point of calming down. From within the chaos, he pointed to the next reporter.

"Sa Hyun-chan of the Pyongyang Daily. Might we know why Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk — both so impressive of late — were left off this selection?"

As noted, Han Min-hwa was a thoughtful man. It wasn't as though he failed to grasp that Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk outclassed the current third-years.

Nor was his decision born of the kind of calculation others were whispering about — worrying over how the industry would regard him when he eventually returned to the field.

From the moment the proposal to call up Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk crossed his desk, he had combed through everything connected to the two of them: articles, interviews, even the words of their fans.

Friends with a bond of genuine loyalty and warmth — a rare sight these days. The Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk he'd come to know through hours of digging struck this long-time youth coach as the sort of young men who made the work feel worthwhile.

Could he really tear boys like that away from their teammates by force? And the more he looked, the more he found they'd even set themselves a grand goal — the Grand Slam. Protecting a boy's dream is what adults ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are for.

But if he said that out loud, the selected players would be wounded, and there was team morale to think of too.

"The selected players are simply a better fit for this national team than those two. There is no other reason."

Without taking another question, Han Min-hwa turned and walked out of the press room.

A man with a warm heart and a thoughtful nature — and absolutely dreadful interview skills.

That day, the baseball communities died.

Whatever the manager's intentions, there was no disputing that Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk brought real competitive value. The men selected were an entirely different story.

Incidentally, on the position-player side, someone had floated selecting Lee Seung-kwon — the biggest second-year name in the country — as a replacement candidate too, but the impact of the Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk saga was so enormous that it got buried.

The communities dissolved into a chaos of warring factions: the personal fans of Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk howling why didn't you pick our boys, Wirye Jeil High fans saying it was fine since the team could now focus on the national tournament, baseball fans who couldn't make sense of the selections at all, and the shit-stirrers finding the whole mess hilarious.

And one man was watching that trainwreck unfold.

"Kim Yi-seon! Didn't I tell you to quit reading the communities?!"

"...Hold on, one second."

That man was me.

Before Ye-eun could snatch my phone away, I raced to upload a GIF to the community titled [Wirye Jeil High Official Statement Just Dropped, Ghost Appears In 3 Seconds.jpg].

No matter how many burner accounts I used to stir the pot, the suffocating frustration wouldn't let up.

"Haa... come here. That upset, huh?"

"Upset about what? I didn't want to go anyway."

Ye-eun stroked my hair, soothing me. And truly, no lie — if I had the choice, I did not want to join the national team. I'd declared the Grand Slam with a straight face; getting dragged off mid-campaign would have made me an international laughingstock.

So honestly, I figured the current situation suited me just fine. No getting cursed out as the first player in history to refuse a youth national team call-up, and no sulking through a reluctant appearance that left a bitter stain on the record.

"Sure you're not. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Whew, that pride of yours could bend steel."

I turned my head and caught sight of Lim Song-ah and Kang Min-hyuk — a proper couple now, so the casual touching had gotten freer. Perhaps envious of Ye-eun, Lim Song-ah tentatively patted Kang Min-hyuk's head, then jolted back in flustered alarm. What are you two doing.

Anyway, over there it was Lim Song-ah doing the consoling and Kang Min-hyuk insisting he was fine.

He really was fine, though. Why was everyone like this?

Just then Cha Il-sung came crawling into the clubhouse, took in the scene, and delivered his verdict.

"So you two get cut from the national team and your girlfriends come comfort you? God, my ribs hurt just looking at it. Disgusting couples, the both of you."

"Nobody got cut. We were never going in the first place."

"You only get to say that after you've been selected. You two just plain got rejected."

Cha Il-sung cackled, heh heh heh.

Yeah. That's the part that stings.

I'd agonized endlessly over what to do if the call-up actually came, the media had hyped it as all but confirmed, and then — nothing. Suddenly the memory surfaced: my past life's college days, zero confessions, one brutal rejection.

And that's exactly why the trolls were crawling back out in the forums and the comment sections, spewing garbage like weren't Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk just hype all along?

"Hey, Kang Min-hyuk."

"What is it."

"Winning Bonghwangdae-gi didn't take the edge off you, did it?"

I asked just to be sure, but his eyes were still burning as fierce as ever.

"Good. The Grand Slam? Then let's go even bigger. First team in high school history to throw a shutout in every single game of the national tournament — how about it?"

You magnificent bastards. You're going down.

Maybe I'm taking my frustration out on the wrong target, but I'll put on a showing so monstrous that the whole country screams why wasn't Kim Yi-seon picked?