Rural Ace

Chapter 11. Coaching (1)

Gu Hyun-im, a 2008 first-round pitcher, was sweating hard at the Gangwon Miners’ spring camp.

“Don’t try too hard to control your pitches. Just throw it right into the strike zone, okay?”

“Yes!”

Last season, the former coach never gave him a chance. Even in the minor league, he barely got to pitch. They said his control was bad and that he had no breaking balls.

But this time was different. The new pitching coach was right beside him, coaching him for over an hour.

“You don’t need to throw the curveball perfectly. Your fastball is strong, so just use the curveball to mess with the batter’s timing.”

“Understood!”

Since his four-seam fastball was powerful, the batters would swing and miss at his curveball.

Even if they didn’t, just knowing a curveball might come would make his fastball more effective.

“Don’t play mind games. Just overpower them!”

“Yes!”

Gu Hyun-im believed that the previous minor league pitching coach had ignored power pitchers like him. The coach himself had been a soft-throwing pitcher, so he didn’t respect guys who threw hard.

It wasn’t just him. His teammate Joe Terry had the same problem. Both of them threw in the mid-150 km/h range, but they had fewer appearances than their competitors.

‘Seo Tae-Seong is different.’

The greatest pitcher in Major League history.

And now, that legend was recognizing his potential.

Gu Hyun-im burned with determination.

‘Nobody can hit your pitches.’

If such a legendary pitcher was giving him personal coaching, how could he not be motivated?

—

After finishing long tosses, Seo Tae-Seong Approached his son, who was resting.

“Hey, rookie.”

“Coach.”

Maybe because this was his second life, his son acted respectfully in public. Seo Tae-seung motioned for him to sit down and spoke.

“Do you ever feel like your body moves or words come out differently than you expect?”

Seo Yae-Seong tilted his head.

“I’m not sure.”

“Really? Nothing like that yet?”

Seo Ye-seong glanced around, lowered his voice, and asked,

“Does that happen when you go back in time?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like… youthful energy. Hormones go wild sometimes.”

“Then, when you were young, did you… um, say crazy things in interviews?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’d get angry just seeing reporters.”

He laughed, raising his hand as if admitting it. His son laughed along.

Seo Ye-seong lowered his voice again.

“Are you trying to fix Gu Hyun-im?”

He knew Gu Hyun-im’s future. But he wasn’t worried—he was excited.

Maybe his father could save this first-round pitcher who was supposed to fail.

“No.”

“But you’ve been paying a lot of attention to him…”

“I just need to make him good enough to be a trade piece.”

Seo Ye-seong stayed silent. Well, that wasn’t completely unreasonable.

“Who knows? If he really improves, that’s great. If not, maybe he’ll succeed with another team.”

“But can you trade him so easily?”

Tae-seong smiled.

“Our general manager is just a figurehead. If the owner asks, he’ll do whatever I want.”

“…Then do you want me to name some late-round players from other teams who might turn out good?”

Seo Tae-Seong poked his son’s side and scolded him.

“You don’t have a list ready yet?”

—

My father tells me all sorts of things.

“Are you planning to put all the FA pitchers in the bullpen?”

“Yeah. Bang Min-su will be useful if he loses 20 kg. But Jeong Han-seung and Jo Seong-gyu shouldn’t be starting pitchers.”

He had already planned the starting rotation. Two foreign pitchers, Hwang Seung-tae, me, and one open spot.

“Aren’t we short on left-handed pitchers?”

If Bang Min-su was out, the only lefties in the first team would be me and the foreign pitcher, Bradshaw.

But Lee In-gi wasn’t strong enough to be the bullpen’s lefty ace.

“I’ll fix Joe Terry and use him.”

“You like him?”

“I talked to him, and he seems fine. He wouldn’t have struggled so much in the minors if we had just sent a translator.”

This team had a bad habit of ignoring players who weren’t big-name free agents or club favorites.

There was also a practice game set up against a minor league team. Apparently, one phone call from my father was enough to arrange that rare opportunity.

“Do you know what the manager said?”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if I was the real manager. Said he might as well retire and let me take over.”

“…”

“So I told him to hang in there for a year. He should at least coach for a season before becoming manager—it would look better.”

“…Dad.”

“What?”

“Remember that thing you said about hormones?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still like that?”

My father chuckled.

“I’m too old for that now.”

No, you’re not.

You’re still saying whatever you want.

“Anyway, I’m leaving. In the practice game, the starting pitcher candidates will each throw two to three innings. Just be ready.”

—

Jeong Han-seung, who had once won the most games while wearing the Seoul Kangaroos uniform, was disappointed that he wasn’t in the starting pitcher race. But he tried not to show it.

He hadn’t come to the Miners just to collect his last paycheck. It was just sad that his aging body couldn’t keep up.

He had always dreamed of a more special ending. But reality was different.

Still, he wouldn’t waste the experience he had gained in nearly 15 years of KBO baseball.

His goal was to become a coach and then a manager.

“Hey, rookie. Are you throwing your changeup like that on purpose?”

One player stood out the most. At first, it was just because of his famous father.

But even without that, this kid was special.

Seo Ye-seong.

Some rookies just had a different vibe. Most of them became stars in the KBO.

Some didn’t, but Jeong Han-seung had a good eye for talent.

“Yes. I’m trying to throw it with the same form as my fastball.”

Most rookies didn’t think like this before experiencing real games.

They usually only focused on velocity or movement. Some high school rookies didn’t even understand why they needed breaking pitches.

“Have you thought about learning a curveball?”

In his prime, Jeong Han-seung was a power pitcher with a 150 km/h fastball, two-seam, and curveball.

Seo Ye-seong bowed slightly.

“If you teach me, I’ll do my best!”

Jeong Han-seung smiled.

Coaches liked eager rookies.

“I can also help with your two-seam if you want.”

“Thank you!”

Most pitchers could throw a curveball, but not many threw it well.

“You’ve thrown one before, right? Show me your grip. Move your fingers a little… Yeah, like that. Try throwing it.”

In the past, Jeong Han-seung was known for his curveball. Not anymore, but still.

“Throw one. Yun-seok! Catch for us?”

After adjusting the grip, he called a bullpen catcher.

Seo Ye-seong gripped the ball as instructed.

Actually, he was already good at throwing curves.

The ball left his hand, flew straight, then suddenly dropped with topspin.

“Whoa, that movement is nice.”

Maybe it was just beginner’s luck.

“Throw another one.”

The second one was just as good. Not a huge drop, but fast, with slight sideways movement.

“Wow…”

“Thank you, senior! It’s all thanks to your teaching… I’ll keep practicing.”

In games, it remained to be seen how useful it would be.

But it looked deceptive enough to trick batters.

“I don’t have anything left to teach you. You’re done here.”

He could only laugh.

Seo Ye-seong licked his lips and asked,

“But since I’m thinking about the drop, my form looks a little different from my fastball. Is that okay?”

Jeong Han-seung scratched his chin.

“Maybe. But it should still work for surprise pitches. Let’s practice together.”

Even Seo Ye-seong was surprised by his own curveball.

He had always known how to throw one, but with Jeong Han-seung’s method, it felt different.

—

The practice game against the minor league team was approaching.

After that, we would head to Japan for our second training camp.

Two games per day, four games in total, with seven innings each.

The first-round rookie pitcher, Koo Hyun-im, born in 2008, was sweating hard at Gangwon Miners’ spring camp.

“Don’t force control too much. Just think about throwing it right down the middle of the strike zone, okay?”

“Yes!”

The previous coach, who stepped down at the end of last season, never gave him a chance. Even in the second team, he rarely got to pitch. They said his control was terrible and that he had no breaking balls.

But now, things are different. The new pitching coach had been by his side for over an hour, teaching him personally.

“You don’t need to be too precise with your curveball. Since your fastball is strong, just use it to mess with the batter’s timing.”

“Understood!”

If his four-seam fastball was good enough, batters would swing and miss when expecting it but getting a curveball instead.

Even if they didn’t swing, just making them aware that a curveball could come would make his fastball more effective.

“Don’t bother with mind games. Just overpower them!”

“Yes!”

Koo Hyun-im believed the former second-team pitching coach had ignored fireballers like him because the coach himself had been a weak-armed pitcher during his playing days.

It wasn’t just him. His teammate, Joe Terry, was the same. They both threw mid-150 km/h fastballs but had fewer second-team appearances than their competition.

‘Seo Tae-seung is different.’

The GOAT of Major League Baseball.

A man like that had recognized his talent.

Koo Hyun-im burned with determination.

‘No one can hit your pitch.’

When a legendary pitcher personally coached him, how could he not be fired up?

Seo Tae-Seong finished his coaching and approached his son, who was resting after long tosses.

“Hey, rookie.”

“Coach.”

Maybe because this was his second life, his son acted polite in public. Seo Tae-Seong gestured for him to sit and spoke.

“Do you ever feel like your body reacts differently from what you think? Like your words come out before you even realize?”

Seo Ye-seong tilted his head.

“I’m not sure.”

“Really? Not yet?”

Seo Ye-seong glanced around, then lowered his voice to ask.

“Do you get that when you go back in time?”

“Not exactly, but it’s more like… youthful energy, you know? When your hormones go crazy.”

“So, when you were young, did you just… blurt out things in interviews?”

“Something like that. Every time I saw a reporter, I just got mad.”

Seo Tae-Seong raised his hand and laughed, admitting it. His son chuckled too.

Seo Ye-seong lowered his voice again.

“By the way, are you trying to fix Koo Hyun-im?”

He knew Koo Hyun-im’s future. But instead of worrying, he felt curious.

Could his father save a first-round pitcher who was doomed to fail?

“No.”

“But you’re paying a lot of attention to him lately…”

“I just need to make him decent enough to trade.”

Seo Ye-seong fell silent.

Well, that wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

“Who knows? If he really improves, great. If not, he might succeed on another team.”

“Can you trade players as you like?”

Seo Tae-Seong smiled unfairly.

“The general manager is just a puppet. The chairman will do whatever I ask.”

“…Should I tell you which low-round rookies from other teams are likely to succeed?”

Seo Tae-Seong nudged his son’s side and frowned.

“You haven’t made a list yet?”

* * *

My father tells me all kinds of things.

“Are you putting all the free-agent veterans in the bullpen?”

“Yeah. Bang Min-soo will be useful if he loses 20 kg. Jung Han-seung and Jo Seong-gyu shouldn’t be starters.”

He had roughly decided on the starting rotation: two foreign pitchers, Hwang Seung-tae, me, and one open spot.

“Isn’t the team lacking left-handed pitchers?”

If Bang Min-soo was out, the only left-handed pitchers for the first team would be me, the foreign pitcher Bradshaw, and Lee In-gi.

But Lee In-gi wasn’t skilled enough to be the bullpen’s left-handed ace.

“We’ll revive Joe Terry and use him.”

“You like him?”

“He seems fine. If they had just sent a translator to the second team last year, he wouldn’t have struggled so much.”

This team had a problem. Unless you were a free agent or someone the owner liked, you got treated poorly.

Even practice games against minor league teams weren’t easy to arrange. But with one phone call from my father, they got scheduled.

“You know what the manager said?”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if I was the real manager. Said he might as well retire and let me take over.”

“….”

“So, I told him to hold on for one year. At least one year as coach and then become manager properly.”

“…Dad.”

“What?”

“You know that thing you mentioned… the hormone thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still like that?”

My father chuckled.

“I’m too old for that now.”

No, you’re not.

You still say things without thinking.

“Anyway, I’m leaving. In the practice game against the minor league team, the starting candidates will each pitch 2–3 innings.”

* * *

Jung Han-seung, who once won the most games wearing the Seoul Kangaroos uniform, felt disappointed that he wasn’t a starting candidate. But he tried not to show it.

He didn’t come to the Miners just to collect a retirement bonus. It was just painful that his aging body couldn’t keep up.

He had always imagined a more special ending. But the reality was different from his dreams.

Still, he wouldn’t let all his experience and knowledge from nearly 15 years in the KBO go to waste.

His next goal was to become a coach and, eventually, a manager.

“Rookie, are you throwing your changeup like that on purpose?”

This kid stood out the most. At first, it was because of his name—Seo Tae-seong’s son.

But even without that name, he was clearly a future star.

Seo Ye-seong.

Some rookies have a special aura. And most of them succeed in the KBO.

Jung Han-seung had a good eye for talent.

“Yes. I’m training to throw it with the same motion as my four-seam fastball.”

Most rookies don’t think like this.

Usually, they only focus on speed and movement. Some high school pitchers don’t even understand why they need off-speed pitches.

“Ever thought about learning a curveball?”

In his prime, Jung Han-seung dominated hitters with a 150 km/h fastball, two-seamer, and curveball.

Seo Ye-seong bowed slightly and answered.

“If you teach me, I’ll work hard to learn!”

Jung Han-seung smiled. Coaches love players with loud, eager voices.

“If you’re interested, I can also help with your two-seamer.”

“Thank you!”

Most pitchers know how to throw a curveball. But few throw it well.

“Let’s start with the curveball. Show me your grip. Move your fingers a bit. Yeah, like that. You’ve thrown a curveball before, right?”

In the past, Jung Han-seung was known for his curveball in the KBO.

“Try throwing it. Yoon-seok! Can you catch? Thanks!”

After adjusting the grip, they set up a bullpen catcher.

Seo Ye-seong gripped the ball as instructed.

He already knew how to throw a curveball.

The ball left his hand, flew straight, then dropped sharply with topspin.

“Huh? That movement is pretty good.”

Maybe it was just beginner’s luck.

“Throw one more.”

The second pitch was just as good.

It didn’t have a huge drop, but it was fast and deceptive.

“Wow…”

“Thanks, senior! It’s all because of your great teaching. I’ll keep practicing!”

Jung Han-seung was speechless.

“Nothing more to teach. You’re ready.”