Countryside Ace

Chapter 19 : Potato Ball (1)

Potato Ball (1)

Crackle, crackle.

The crisp sound of kindling burning in the fire quietly echoed.

It was an atmosphere where silence seemed to fit, yet some people couldn't stop chatting regardless.

"Look at this, Harry. Take a look at this guy's swing. Doesn't he look like a total lunatic?"

Terry, ever since he learned the sweeper from Harold Bradshaw, had started clinging to him, and now he even called him by made-up nicknames as he pleased.

The 'total lunatic' Terry was talking about was none other than Byeong-ju.

"A lunatic, you say!"

Byeong-ju snapped back, and Bradshaw just stared blankly at the campfire, paying no mind to the two bickering fools.

It was a strange sight for professional baseball players with Opening Day just around the corner.

"......"

Bradshaw shifted his expressionless gaze from the fire to the two idiots.

Clicking his tongue, he grumbled,

"Damn bratty kids. Seems like it's time for you to go home and crawl into your mothers' arms."

This was the house the club had prepared for Harold Bradshaw.

Unlike most foreign players, Bradshaw had requested a country house in a secluded area rather than an apartment.

He probably wanted a quiet place for himself, but thanks to these two fools, that dream had become unattainable.

"That would be nice, but it's not really possible."

Terry, who had lost his parents in an accident in the U. S., answered smoothly, making Bradshaw scowl deeply.

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."

"Damn it."

It was hard to say if Byeong-ju, who had learned English faster than expected, understood it all, but he kept swinging away, not even trying to join the awkward conversation.

"Damn. Because of you three idiots, you're going to ruin my routine."

"Wait, hold on a second."

This time, I cut in. That was something I just couldn't let slide, no matter what.

"Don't lump me in with them."

"Are you ashamed of us?"

I was dragged here against my will, after all.

I tried to protest, but it was useless.

After a pointless back-and-forth, Bradshaw shook his head and raised his hands in surrender.

Then, as he stared back at the campfire, I lightly tossed out a question.

"How did you end up joining this team?"

Terry, also curious, stopped talking for a moment, and Bradshaw answered with his same blank look.

"They pay a hell of a lot more than Taiwan."

Bradshaw wrinkled his nose and added,

"Your father called me. He asked, 'Harold, are you sick?' When I said I wasn't, he asked if I had a lover in Taiwan. I told him there was nothing like that, and then he offered me a contract."

Should I say—very much like Father.

"But then he tells me to throw the ball here in Korea, and also do a bit of babysitting. Damn it. Babysitting? Is he kidding me?"

Bradshaw scowled and then scoffed. What he said next was a bit different.

"I learned a lot from your father, but that doesn't mean he was my nanny. So I was just going to tell him to screw off......."

"And then?"

"But he said he'd pay a lot, so instead of 'fuck you,' I said 'thank you' and got on a plane in a flash."

Bradshaw laughed heartily and then kept running his mouth.

For someone who called us three idiots or bratty kids, he seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

"Enough about me—let me ask you. Why do you play baseball?"

Terry replied quick as a flash,

"This is the only thing I know how to do. Maybe I could be good at something else, but I have no idea what that is."

Byeong-ju was watching with a blank stare, so I told him what was being asked.

Looking a little embarrassed, he yelled loudly,

"I-I'm going to the Major Leagues!"

Guess it was my turn next.

"Well... I just... I love baseball."

I thought it was a pretty vague question. My answer was vague too, but that's how it was.

Bradshaw was the player who trained the hardest in camp.

He was more serious than anyone in games, and even now was diligently taking on the role of guardian.

His career wasn't flashy, but it was persistent and honest, and you wouldn't believe his sound physical shape if you just rounded him up to forty years old.

"Why'd you ask? Going to give some grand advice to the young prodigies looking to build a pro career?"

Terry asked with an exaggerated, playful gesture.

I was starting to think that maybe I'd finally met a player who could be a role model.

Father was the role model of countless pitchers, but he was so far beyond reach he existed in another world.

I thought Bradshaw, with his earnest, serious attitude, could become my new role model, but he only snickered at Terry's question.

"What kind of crap is that? Your answers just clinched it. You're just three dumb kids."

"What did you say?"

"Th-ree-dumb-kids."

"Then why do you play baseball, Bradshaw?"

With my abrupt question, Bradshaw glanced at me and answered after a brief pause.

"That's...... heh. I'll tell you when you're not kids anymore."

Terry joked about whether that meant he'd tell us tomorrow, but Bradshaw looked like he didn't want to talk anymore.

"I'm off to bed. Call a taxi and go home, or just crash in a guest room, do what you want. I have no intention of driving you kids back."

* * *

There's always a nervous, unsettled energy around Opening Day.

Even before I came back to the past, I'd made the debut season Opening Day roster.

A fastball-throwing lefty always had a good shot at staying on the first team.

Of course, unlike now, back then I started from the bullpen and just threw gas.

If you put a positive spin on it, you could call me a fireballer.

Back then, I naturally thought I could conquer the KBO.

Yet, deep down, I also had a fierce inferiority complex telling me I couldn't do it.

I was a coward. A scared dog that barked loudest.

During interviews, I ran my mouth.

People thought even that was just like my father.

Of course, my case was different.

I was only confident on the surface and secretly trembled as soon as I turned away.

[Miners Pitching Coach Seo Tae-seung on son Seo Ye-sung: "Even if he doesn't live up to expectations, trust him and watch over him."]

Father left comments about the team's pitchers in front of reporters, but his mention of me became the biggest topic.

Of course, the article was twisted and edited to draw attention.

In reality, father had simply said he believed I'd do well, and when asked what he'd do if I failed, he replied, "He'll manage on his own."

But that sort of article came out, and the response to it wasn't great.

People said things like I was looking down on the KBO, or that Father-and-son baseball was sickening, or that someone who only played in the Majors didn't understand Korea at all.

Honestly, I was very used to the spicy taste of KBO articles.

The expectations that came from being Seo Tae-seung's son turned on me that much more savagely when I failed.

But what about Father?

He was proud to a fault, and if he thought, 'Hey, I'm Seo Tae-seung,' maybe he was a bit shaken too......

"What? Does that stuff bother you?"

"Sorry?"

"Of course the haters gather round anyone good. And if you're a pro, you don't let that nonsense shake you. Got it?"

I guess I was worrying for nothing. Father's rambling lecture—or maybe it was just plain bragging—continued.

"When I said I was heading to the Majors, huh? People said, 'Seo Tae-seung is going to flop for sure.' Then when I made it, there were crowds praying for me to fail, and if I had one bad game, they were busy writing up my KBO comeback scenario......"

Now that I think about it, father spoke his mind as much as he wanted even when he was a Major League rookie.

Must've been even worse for him.

"Well, your nickname was 'Big Mouth,' right."

"What? Who the hell said that!"

Father got all worked up, but the nickname was real, so what could I do?

He had more nicknames than I could count. I'm sure there were many even he didn't know about.

Anyway, apparently, unlike in the original timeline, Byeong-ju made the Opening Day roster because of Father and Coach Goldberg's strong recommendation.

Including Terry, they valued his ability to communicate well with the foreign pitchers.

Truthfully, since there was a superstar catcher named Yoon Bong-wan on the team, the other catchers didn't get much opportunity to develop in the first team.

Now it was about time Miners started worrying about the post-Yoon Bong-wan era.

Since the backup catchers all had about the same skill level, Byeong-ju was picked. Even so, with three catchers on the roster, he'd probably serve mainly as a substitute runner for Sunbae Yoon Bong-wan early in the season.

"Anyway! Don't mind the pointless talk! If a reporter talks nonsense, you just bark right back!"

"Really?"

"Of course! But you know, right? If you talk big and fail, the shame is five hundred times worse. If you're going to run your mouth, at least play really well in the next game."

Normally, you're told never to do that. It's easy to get swept up, and a young player who doesn't watch his mouth is sure to be targeted.

"Well then, I'll trust you and let it rip."

"That's my son."

Right before Opening Day.

I'd meant to keep my head down, but that wasn't going to be easy. To be honest, I did say a few words.

It wasn't anything that would cause a huge stir, but you never know what kind of article will come out of it.

* * *

It had been about five months since last season ended.

The Incheon Flamingos' home stadium was buzzing, having battled the Suwon Castlers for East Sea League supremacy but narrowly missing a ticket to the Korea Series.

- Welcome, everyone! The proud club of the East Sea League! Incheon! Flamingos! We are here, ready for another championship run with renewed hearts and spirits! Thank you! Welcome! Love you all!

After all the Opening Day pregame ceremonies, the Incheon Flamingos' cheer captain burst onto the scene with flashy moves, yelling at the top of his lungs.

The sound of drums, cheers, and music all blended together in a wild roar.

The Opening Day starter for the Flamingos was Kang Young-ho, who had gone 17-5 with a 2.76 ERA, 176 innings, and 189 strikeouts the previous season.

As one of the KBO's aces and a top candidate to move to the Major Leagues, Kang Young-ho climbed the mound with a more serious expression than ever.

"Kang! Young! Ho! Kang! Young! Ho!"

The fans chanted his name. Kang Young-ho took a deep breath and began his warm-up pitches.

Pop!

"Waaaaaaah!"

Even though it wasn't a particularly fast pitch, since it was just for warmups, the fans still roared for him.

That was just how much the Flamingos' fans trusted him.

A die-hard fan of Seo Tae-seung and a classic "Seo Tae-seung Kid", Kang Young-ho and Jeon Soo-jae of the LA Angels were always mentioned as the next Seo Tae-seung for the national team.

'If only Seo Ye-sung had come to our team, maybe Coach Seo Tae-seung would have too.'

That was a bit of a regret. He wanted to be coached by Seo Tae-seung himself.

'Well, there will be chances.'

Kang Young-ho finished his warm-up with that thought.

'Seo Ye-sung.......'

He regulated his breathing as he took the mound. Before the game, he'd read an article.

An interview with Seo Ye-sung.

He was asked, among the so-called next Seo Tae-seungs, who was truly most like him.

[Seo Ye-sung: "My father's successor? I doubt there's anyone in Korea who can even come close to half that."]

He could accept it.

He copied Seo Tae-seung's pitching form when he was active, and as a self-professed Seo Tae-seung fanatic, he knew better than anyone that no one could measure up to him.

But apparently, his team's players hadn't seen it that way.

Actually, it didn't matter much who would be Seo Tae-seung's successor.

However, word had already spread about Seo Ye-sung at Spring Camp, and teammates saw that remark as arrogant.

Frankly, even that didn't matter much to him.

What mattered most to Kang Young-ho now were winning a championship and making it to the Major Leagues.

Soon, Kang Young-ho began his wind-up, uncannily similar to Seo Tae-seung's.

If he wanted to win, he'd absolutely have to beat teams like Miners.

If everyone else was using the win vending machine and they couldn't, that just put them at a bigger disadvantage.