Episode 1
Was this what it felt like for your heart to drop? No, it was more like how a condemned man must feel before his execution.
I had believed it without a doubt.
The Golden Lion Flag, the President’s Cup, even the Phoenix Flag. Along with the title of the number one starting pitcher in high school baseball who had led his team to victory, endless love calls from professional teams and Major League clubs poured in.
I thought that once I graduated from high school, I would rise steadily through the professional team I had wanted so badly.
“It’s a Bankart lesion.”
Until I heard that bolt from the blue.
“On top of that, every time you throw a ball, your shoulder dislocates, so the anteroinferior joint has been severely damaged. The inflammation is serious as well.”
For a pitcher, whose shoulder was his life, being told that his shoulder joint was damaged was no different from a death sentence.
“Even with surgery and rehabilitation… I think it will be difficult to regain your previous control.”
I had played baseball since first grade in elementary school, dreaming of becoming a pro. Had practicing more than everyone else been the root of it all?
A high school senior with the draft ahead of me.
My right shoulder was ruined to the point that I could no longer continue as a player.
“…Gangwoo.”
Even at my parents’ pitiful voices calling me, I could not lift my head.
How much money had I taken from my parents all this time for baseball?
The baseball club fees, training camps, all the gloves I had gone through, even personal training expenses.
The apartment my parents had bought with the money they had saved their whole lives had long since been sold. My parents, who ran an old arcade, extended their hours until dawn.
Saying they wanted to earn even one more penny.
I had boasted that I would pay them back double. I really had meant it. Because I had thought I would be the first overall pick in the rookie draft.
A right-handed power starting pitcher. A four-seam fastball that topped out at 155 kilometers per hour, with stable command to match.
There had been no one who could keep up with me.
Until my right shoulder was smashed to pieces.
“…I’m going to training.”
I forced myself to turn my back on my parents and headed to the baseball club. The moment the team members practicing on the field saw me, they only stole glances, watching my mood.
“Oh, uh. Yeah. Gangwoo, you’re here.”
The manager’s bulging belly looked as if the buttons of his uniform would pop off at any moment.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Right, I heard the news. Even if you have surgery and rehab, they say it’ll take a year to recover?”
At that, the coach beside him quickly opened his mouth.
“With a dislocation and a busted shoulder joint, even a year won’t be enough. The immediate problem is tomorrow’s game.”
“We’ll have to go with Gang Huiyun as tomorrow’s starter. No helping it. Tsk. Gangwoo, you won’t be able to pitch anyway, so focus on rehab.”
The manager continued, as if he were doing me a favor.
“Normally, at this point, you know a shoulder injury means the end of a player’s career, right? But it’d be a waste of your talent, and you’ve done well until now, so I’ll pull some strings for you. Repeat a year. Get your shoulder surgery and rehab during that time.”
I thought the manager and coach were at least thinking of me.
Until I heard what came next.
“Yeah. The manager’s helping you out big-time because he’s thinking of you. The draft’s coming up soon, but you can’t even use your shoulder, so just help the guys from the side. You can still toss them balls, right?”
The coach’s words sounded sarcastic. Then the manager chimed in as if agreeing.
“But how are you supposed to make it with such a weak shoulder? Tsk. At your age, you should be fine even if you throw every day.”
“Exactly. Even if he’d been fine now, it probably would’ve blown out once he went pro.”
Fine even if I threw every day? What? Blown out once I went pro?
My insides twisted.
“Coach Gwon, Gang Huiyun can pitch a complete game, right?”
“Let’s have him try. He throws the best after Gangwoo, at least.”
What a fresh new way to talk absolute bullshit.
“Coach, you’re saying my shoulder was weak?”
During games, I threw over three hundred pitches in three straight days without rest, and what? My shoulder was weak?
“Last time, I threw over four hundred pitches in one week of games. I also had four straight complete-game wins.”
It had clearly been overuse. I had practiced a lot too, but the reason it had deteriorated so rapidly after entering high school was also because the manager and coach had overworked me recklessly.
I had followed them without complaint, and now they were saying my shoulder was weak?
“I’m not repeating a year. I’m going to rehab and play baseball again.”
Coach Gwon sneered.
“Is that so? Well, that’s good, then. But do you know this? Out of all the guys I’ve seen, every single one whose shoulder got ground down like yours—one hundred out of one hundred—I’ve never seen a single one play in the pros. Well, I guess you might become the first.”
There was a limit to how much ill will someone could spit. I wanted to curse him out right then and there, my emotions surging, but this was not America.
It was the Republic of Korea, the nation of Eastern propriety.
“Then you’ll see it now. I’m going pro.”
I turned my back on the sneering coach and the dumbfounded manager.
Gwon Dongjin. Gwon Dongjin. I repeated the coach’s name and clenched my teeth.
One hundred out of one hundred? Fuck, just you watch. Because I really will be that one.
I said that, but in truth, there was nothing I could do.
The manager treated me like I was invisible, and Coach Gwon grated on my nerves with sarcastic remarks every time he saw me.
As if my place had never existed in the first place, the baseball club ran smoothly. And in the KBO rookie draft that followed, my name was nowhere to be found. Even the media outlets that had been clamoring until just recently that I was the first overall pick had gone quiet.
So, this is how it ends.
No. What do you mean, ends?
“Urgh.”
I was in a corner of my father’s arcade, holding a towel and doing shadow pitching. The moment I reached out, terrible pain shot down from my right shoulder through my arm.
I had to think realistically.
And I had to admit it.
That I could not throw a ball with my right hand.
Then it had to be the left.
When I glanced at my left hand, a laugh burst out of me.
I had never thrown a ball with my left hand, not even once.
On top of that, my left hand was—
“If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve taken it easy on the punch machine.”
The old arcade my father ran. Among its machines, the punch machine, whose cushion had been replaced who knew how many times, was one I had been hitting since I was seven.
When I was stressed or angry, I hit it to change my mood. I could not strain my right side, the one I used to throw a ball, so I hit it with my left hand.
Every single day, without fail.
As if possessed, I sprang to my feet and stood in front of the punch machine.
The high score displayed on the old scoreboard was one I had set last year.
I roughly slung the towel around my neck and clenched my left hand into a fist.
I needed somewhere to vent. After everything I had built up until now had turned to foam.
My clenched left fist rose into the air.
“Hoo!”
My elbow, raised high on a diagonal, soon came crashing down.
Bang—!!
Along with a huge bursting sound, a mechanical tune rang out.
Ding-ding-ding! Bbam-bba-ba-bbam-bba!
It was the sound announcing that a new record had been achieved.
“Ha.”
Looking at the changed high score, a hollow laugh escaped me. Was this really the end? If I had surgery and finished rehab…
I was still young, so even two or three years of rehab should be fine.
“Then why am I crying?”
Leaving aside the cost of surgery, the enormous cost of rehabilitation was impossible with my family’s current circumstances.
The small office inside the arcade had been turned into a room for our family to live in. That alone was answer enough.
Everything was over.
Just as I lowered my head in despair, a voice came from behind me.
“Player Chae Gangwoo?”
He had called me Player Chae Gangwoo, not just Gangwoo. At the same time, my body moved reflexively.
When I turned my head, I saw a neatly dressed man and an old man.
“Uh…?”
No, he was not simply an old man. If you played baseball, there was no one who did not know him—a godlike existence to baseball people.
“Manager Yun Seonggeun…?”
At that, Manager Yun Seonggeun, wearing an ER Hawks baseball cap with his hands shoved into his jumper pockets, gave a hearty laugh.
“Your left shoulder looks perfectly fine.”
At Manager Yun Seonggeun’s muttered words, the man standing beside him seemed to nod, then turned his gaze toward me.
“Player Chae Gangwoo.”
I sensed it instinctively.
That I had to make a good impression on these two somehow.
“Yes, sir!”
When I answered in a voice far more disciplined than before, the man burst into laughter.
“I’m Lee Jonghwa, a scout for the ER Hawks.”
The ER Hawks. A team with plenty of money, generous support, and a powerful fanbase. The only problem was that they had been finishing dead last in succession.
For a full ten years.
Well, in my current situation, I was not in any position to be picky.
“It’s an honor to meet you.”
I bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle. At that, Scout Lee Jonghwa held out a business card.
“I’ll ask you straight.”
Still dazed, I accepted the business card and lifted my head.
“Player Chae Gangwoo. How would you like to join the ER Hawks as a developmental player?”
A developmental player? If it was developmental, could I play on the second team?
If I played on the second team and finished rehab, I could go up to the first team.
There was no need to hesitate. It was my last chance, so I had to grab it.
“I’ll do it!”
At that, Scout Lee Jonghwa pushed up the frame of his glasses.
“But there is a condition.”
“A condition…?”
“Yes.”
“The condition is that you switch not to a right-handed pitcher, but to a left-handed pitcher.”
Wait, left-handed? But I was right-handed.
“I’ve never thrown with my left hand before.”
As if asking what the problem was, Scout Lee Jonghwa said,
“Yes. Then you’ll have to start practicing now.”
No, is that supposed to be easy? Besides…
“My shoulder… probably won’t be in good shape either.”
I glanced at the punch machine beside me. Looking at the newly changed high score, my head grew complicated.
My right side had only thrown baseballs, but my left had been slamming into the punch machine. Every day, under the excuse of changing my mood.
At least once or twice a day, and sometimes dozens of times. There was no way my shoulder would be fine.
“So… I’ve thrown a lot of punches with my left. My shoulder is—”
“It’s good.”
Good?
I looked at Manager Yun Seonggeun, who had cut me off. At that, Manager Yun Seonggeun grinned.
When I watched him during games, I had thought he was scary and devoid of emotion, but seeing him like this, he was just like a neighborhood grandfather.
“Still, we’ll have to test you.”
At Yun Seonggeun’s words, Scout Lee Jonghwa seemed to understand and took something out of his bag.
“This is the schedule for the test next month. Keep it in mind. We’ll see you that day.”
“Uh…”
As I stupidly stood there holding the paper, Manager Yun Seonggeun said one more thing.
“You’ve got a good shoulder. Since you’re switching to left-handed anyway, how about trying a high-speed knuckleball too?”
A knuckleball…? The knuckleball, which was practically extinct now?
But wasn’t a knuckleball slow? A high-speed knuckleball?
I had been a right-handed fireballer, and now not only was I suddenly switching to left-handed, I was supposed to become a knuckleball pitcher?
Insane!
Even so, I had no choice. If they were giving me an opportunity, I had to do as I was told.
I had only one answer.
“I’ll do it!”