Countryside Ace

Chapter 18 : Ingredients (3)

Ingredients (3)

The exhibition games, held without distinction between the East Sea League and West Sea League, had all concluded.

The spring powerhouse, busan Stars, ranked first in the exhibition games.

Gwangju Vipers, who in theory could even manage a seven-man starting rotation, ranked second.

Last season's champions, Seoul Archers, came in third.

[2029 KBO Exhibition Games Conclude. What Does the Regular Season Hold, based on Exhibition Play?]

└ Why are they already making rankings after the exhibition games, lol

└ The perennial popular teams, wow

└ Seriously, stop lumping us in with the bottom-feeders, it's so humiliating

└ Archers V5—ugh, no way!

└ What are you babbling about—it's going to be Stars V3, lol

└ Let Daejeon Missiles win V2 already—sigh

└ Teams from Daejeon and Busan, founded in the 80s, have a total of three championships between them, lol

└ You guys are unbelievable...

└ Honestly, I don't understand why you even watch baseball, lol

└ The teams that last won in the '90s should just disband already...

└ That's what we're hoping for, you idiots—sigh

└ Miners seem more likely to win before you guys, lol

└ Even so, that's a stretch, lol

Everyone knew that exhibition results bore no real relation to regular season standings, but baseball fans sometimes forgot what they did know.

Our team finished 7th out of 12 in exhibition play. The pitching staff's balance was better than I had expected.

Fourteen games: six wins, one tie, seven losses.

I pitched in three games, allowing five runs in fifteen innings, with an ERA of 3.00.

In my first outing against Busan Stars, I threw five scoreless innings, but in the next outing against Daejeon Missiles, two unexpected home runs resulted in four runs over five innings.

In the third and final game, against Incheon Flamingos, I gave up one run in five innings.

Maybe because of the effect of the Stars game, most hitters were sitting on the four-seam.

The two home runs in the Missiles game both came on curves that drifted over the plate, and the sports headlines read like this:

[First Overall Pick Seo Ye-sung: Needs a Third Pitch to Secure Spot as a Starting Pitcher]

Opinions were split: some said that even as a left-handed reliever he'd possess enough value for the roster, while others claimed that unless his curve improved, he'd struggle to settle in the majors.

Truthfully, that was just what I wanted. I hadn't revealed my whole hand, waiting for this effect.

A two-seam, thrown at similar velocity to my four-seam, to mess with the batter's mentality.

A slider to disrupt any guessing game and create a two-way guessing scenario.

And my own changeup, a mix of two types of changeups I'd developed myself.

Anyway.

Graham Donald Porter, slated as the team's ace, was dominant with just his four-seam and changeup as a two-pitch combo, and my sweeper mentor, Harold Bradshaw, gave impressive performances in spite of concerns about his age.

Jo Sung-gyu, who was unexpectedly assigned the closer's role for the first time, finished exhibition play with a zero ERA.

Terry, whom Father had taken a liking to, showed off a powerful 154 km/h four-seam and performed much better than expected with the two-seam he'd sharpened during spring camp.

In addition, he added a sweeper that, while still rough, managed to induce swings from some over-eager left-handed hitters: in six appearances, he pitched 5.2 innings and gave up only one run.

Terry gave an interview with tears in his eyes, saying previous coaches had treated him as if he didn't exist, but Seo Tae-seung had recognized his value.

That's why he was now being called "Seo-Terry" or "Seo Tae-seung's step-son".

Gu Hyun-im, who was traded during the exhibition games, had allowed zero runs in 4.1 innings before the trade.

He struck out ten, and although he gave up five walks plus hit batters, as a young and fresh fireballer, he brought in an outfielder to help plug our team's weaknesses.

[Gu Hyun-im's just about to break out—shouldn't we have gotten someone as good as Lee Seung-bin even if the guy they gave us is a bit lacking?]

[KBO's official pushover team, lol]

[Who else trades away a first-round lefty throwing 155 for a backup outfielder?]

At first, public opinion was negative, but now the conversation had shifted.

[Found our leadoff!]

└ 8 hits and 5 steals in 15 at bats, whoa

[Excuse me—Gu Hyun-im seems broken, can we get a refund?]

[Why does a guy who struck out ten in 4.1 innings give up eight walks in three innings as soon as he gets to Busan?]

[You heartless bastards—send over Seo Tae-seung, too!]

Of course, no one knew whether this new outlook would hold.

Gu Hyun-im might experience adjustment issues, but he'd shown remarkable improvement in camp.

Still, I believed Lee Seung-bin wouldn't fail.

Time passed.

"Waaaaaaaahhhhh!"

"What the heeeeeeeell!"

Two guys who had been nervously hoping to make the opening day roster screamed as if the world had turned upside down when they learned their names were in.

A socially awkward guy and another who had no idea how to behave in society—what a riot.

Thankfully, it was just the three of us there.

If the veterans who hadn't made the roster saw this, they'd love it so much they'd want to kill us.

What if we kept hanging out like this and became known as the "idiot trio?"

"Waaaaah! Ye-sung! Terry brooo!"

"My brooooooo!"

"......"

Should I start going around alone now?

* * *

With the switch to a dual-league system, each KBO team now played 140 games: 16 games each against teams in the same league (80 games total), and 10 each with teams from the other league (60 games).

The final standings the previous season were as follows:

[West Sea League]

1. Seoul Archers

2. Changwon Moonwalkers

3. Gwangju Vipers

4. Seoul Fighters

5. Daejeon Missiles

6. Jeonju Rangers

[East Sea League]

1. Incheon Flamingos

2. Suwon Castlers

3. Seoul Kangaroos

4. Busan Stars

5. Daegu Dragons

6. Gangwon Miners

The balance between the leagues was decent. The media predicted the "Big 3" of the West Sea League—Archers, Moonwalkers, and Vipers—would take the postseason spots, but the Fighters were seen as a strong dark horse as well.

In the East Sea League, the prevailing expectation was that the Flamingos, castlers, kangaroos, stars, and Dragons would compete for three postseason berths.

The Rangers, focusing on development, had nearly escaped last place for the first time since their foundation, and if luck held, were considered a candidate for their first postseason appearance.

Then there was the newest team, and this time hardly anyone had expectations, not even big money had been spent: Gangwon Miners.

Song Moon-jung, who was appointed as the new head coach of such a team, spoke at Media Day wearing a detached expression.

"Well, I'd like to make autumn baseball, but it doesn't always go as you hope... Still, we have to try. You play pro ball to win—nobody plays pro ball to lose, right?"

Media Day is always supposed to be a bit friendly and a bit sharp. Somebody has to stir the pot for fun.

"Looking ahead to this new season, coach, who do you see as your biggest rival?"

"Rival? Ha. No one is picking us as their rival—what if they take offense if I pick someone?"

"Oh no, of course not! But if you had to choose one...?"

"Well then, let's see. Sure. Let's go with the Archers."

"The Archers?"

Every previous Miners' head coach had picked the Rangers, who were founded at the same time, as their rival.

Song Moon-jung grinned.

"I mean, would champions even care if I said they're our rival? Players under the Archers' coach, please don't try to 'catch' us just because I said this—it's just a bold little new team talking, all right?"

It was a striking display of spirit from a rookie, if an awfully experienced head coach.

The Archers' coach, sunbae even in the baseball world, bowed respectfully and replied.

"No, sir. The Seoul Archers will do our best not to fall behind our new rival, Gangwon Miners."

"No, see, I meant for you not to do your best!"

Everyone burst out laughing at the not-quite-argument between the two coaches.

Song Moon-jung added, half-grumbling:

"You know, everyone probably wanted to see Seo Tae-seung instead of me. But he ran off on a date with his wife when I told him to attend in my place."

And when asked about his nickname "Potato Ball," he retorted angrily:

"Hey, we're not selling tickets for potatoes—bring cash! What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

At that moment, Seo Ye-sung was sharpening a pitch he hadn't used in exhibition games together with Seo Tae-seung. The father and son, checking grips and pitching form with the TV set on, paused for a chat.

"Son, our head coach says Archers are our rivals. Who was the toughest team when you played?"

"Stars."

"And Archers?"

"They were all right."

"This is your second run, so you'll probably be better?"

"We'll see."

"But son."

"Yes?"

"How 'all right' is 'all right?'"

The son considered. Indeed, he and his father might have different standards.

"Well... hmm."

"A career ERA in the low twos?"

"..."

"Against Stars, you were toughest, so low ones?"

"...."

The father gave his son a strange smile and the son silently got up to pitch.

"Don't tell me it was in the threes? Or, if you say it's 'all right' but your ERA is actually in the fours...?"

"..."

"Nah, there's no way."

"..."

"Yeah, of course not. Let's just practice."

"... Yes."

"Fives?"

"No, it wasn't that bad."

Seo Tae-seung chuckled gleefully, finding amusement in teasing his son, and answered.

"Why so serious? Hm?"

"Are you sulking because you couldn't teach the sweeper better than Bradshaw?"

"... What do you mean by that?"

"It's nothing."

"Listen, son. Let me tell you something."

"No need to make excuses. I'll get started again."

"Hey! Son! Wait a second!"

* * *

Korea's pool of sporting talent wasn't all that deep.

That limited pool would sway depending on what sport was most popular at the time. When a new European soccer star emerged, children would flock to football, and if a Korean player dominated in the Major Leagues, they'd flood into baseball.

This was the era of "Seo Tae-seung kids," named for the players emerging after Seo Tae-seung conquered MLB.

Seo Tae-seung's reign as king in the Major Leagues had sparked a baseball boom—popularity soared, capital flowed in, and kids dreamt of playing ball, expanding the talent pool.

Gangwon Miners were a team born of this cultural tide, created by the thirst of baseball fans in almost barren Gangwon Province, and investment from GW Group—a major corporation that started in coal mining and was into its third generation of management in Gangwon.

For the first five years after its founding, the team failed to make much of a mark and, instead, turned into the butt of jokes among fans for spending money without results.

[GW Group Chairman Kang Un-deok: "At last, we're ready to make Gangwon the center of Korean baseball."]

└ A baseball retirement village, wow

└ Even the coaches' lounge is the retirement home, and Song Moon-jung as the head coach—right?

└ The rhyme, wow

Still, there was a sense among the newly assembled coaching staff that they finally had a shot this season.

Just before opening day,

Song Moon-jung cleared his throat and addressed his coaches.

"The goal is a championship."

He figured they'd be shocked or flustered, but when they showed no particular response, he scrunched up his nose and continued.

"... But that's just my personal goal. The real target is a .500 record."

A .500 winning percentage.

Out of six teams in the East Sea League, three could make it to autumn baseball.

And, with a winning percentage above .500, the odds of postseason qualification were quite high.

So the head coach's real goal was making the postseason.

"We picked good foreign pitchers... got the basic framework for our starting rotation."

The head coach started rambling about the team's strengths.

"Yes, we've got some old bats in the lineup, but I put them through sharp stamina training, so they won't fade as quickly during the season. We also acquired a good leadoff hitter via trade, and Han Sung-yun and Ye Ji-hoon fielded practice balls until their legs gave out and they threw up, so those holes should be smaller..."

With a "humph," the head coach's gaze sharpened.

"The ingredients are there now. I really don't think ours is a last-place roster."

"I agree," the coaches nodded.

It was a team with issues separate from ability.

They'd brought in a head coach whose old-fashioned but commanding presence had set the tone.

Coaches who radiated an overwhelming aura from their playing days helped reset the atmosphere, even if the approach was a bit old-fashioned.

"But if you finish last six years in a row, whose fault is it?"

The head coach meant that bad results would be on the head coach and every coach beneath him.

"I'll be fine. I have no regrets even if I'm fired. Even if I'm criticized, I can take it. Fans might even feel sorry for me—taking on a cursed team late in my career, shortening my life span. But you lot, not so much, right?"

The coaching staff was comparatively young. A misstep here could wreck their careers. Song Moon-jung grinned.

"Let's have a good season, everyone. That's all."