The Prodigy Who Rejected the Major League Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 

“Son, go and do well.”

“Yes, Mom! Don’t worry. I’ll do great.”

“I’ll drive him there.”

“Okay, honey. Drive safely.”

The day our school baseball team played Jeonbuk Jeil High in the Round of 16,

I headed to Gunsan in my father’s car.

It was for the national team training camp. Players selected from all over the country for the U-18 national baseball team were gathering at Wolmyeong Baseball Stadium in Gunsan.

“Dad, how’s work these days?”

“Same as always. I’m fine.”

“You’re not hurting anywhere, are you?”

“Of course not. If I lose my health, I’m basically a dead man, right? Hahaha. But what’s with the sudden worry about me?”

It was true. I had never brought this up before.

“At the last tournament, I saw some of the guys get badly hurt and go to the hospital. It just made me wonder if you were doing okay, too.”

Bringing up something from weeks ago as an excuse… even to me, it sounded awkward.

But my father didn’t seem to think much of it.

“Yeah? Those kids okay now?”

“Yes, they’ve started training again.”

If our team made it to at least the semifinals, I thought they might even be able to get some substitute appearances.

“They’re young and still growing. They recover fast. That’s good.”

“Yes, it’s good. Dad, if you ever feel sick, tell us right away, okay?”

“Why? You going to pay the hospital bills for me?”

“Of course I would.”

“Even hearing you say that is enough. Haha.”

He seemed to take it as a light joke.

In truth, he was fine right now. The notice advising him to undergo a more detailed examination during his company’s biennial health checkup would come a few years later.

Not now.

But prevention is called prevention for a reason. You deal with things before they happen.

When I received my signing bonus, I planned to make sure my parents got proper health checkups first.

 

***

 

The national team began its training camp at Wolmyeong Baseball Stadium in Gunsan.

The coaching staff structured the program so that players wouldn’t be restricted to just one position. They emphasized multi-position roles.

The focus was on broadening each player’s tactical understanding, maximizing team strength, and preparing flexible lineups depending on game situations.

Many of the selected players were already capable of handling multiple positions on their school teams, so they adapted well to the training.

During the camp, we played five practice games. Three against college teams and two against pro second-squad teams. The pitching staff was thoroughly evaluated.

Rather than letting one pitcher throw long innings, they distributed short stints among many pitchers, giving them as much real-game experience in various scenarios as possible.

Among them, one player stood out above the rest.

It was Song Seongjun.

He couldn’t help but stand out from the start.

A defensive range that extended to catcher and even the outfield, prodigious home-run power at the plate, and an arm that casually sat at 155 km/h on the mound.

Hitter, pitcher, defender. A true multi-role player… and not just competent at each role, but excellent.

There had never been anyone like him. Not in national team history.

“There’s not even a pro like this.”

Of course, comparing a high school prospect to professionals was unreasonable.

Still, with this level of talent, failing even after going pro seemed almost harder than succeeding.

Coincidentally, not a single coach on this year’s national team staff had faced Seongun High in a national tournament.

Before camp, everything they knew about Song Seongjun was secondhand.

But after seeing him in person, they realized the stories were not exaggerated.

“They said Coach Seong Mansu of Jeongchun High thought it was a hidden-camera prank. I can see why. Hahaha.”

In his game against Jeongchun High, Song Seongjun had played outfield for the first time and taken the mound… despite having no official pitching record in high school tournaments.

He promptly threw 155 km/h and shocked everyone.

Even at the U-18 camp, it was the same. When the radar gun briefly flashed 160 km/h, everyone was speechless.

The national team selected eleven pitchers.

Would you believe that the catcher they selected, Song Seongjun, threw harder than all eleven of them?

“I heard he only played catcher up through the Golden Lion Tournament?”

Seongwon High had failed to make the main bracket of the Blue Dragon Tournament after being eliminated in the preliminaries.

The two best high school pitchers of the year, Moon Seungchan and Yoo Hyundo, had both decided to go to the U.S. and were thus excluded from the national team roster.

The remaining pitchers were solid… most could hit 150 km/h.

But could they overpower the U.S. or Japan with pure stuff in an international tournament?

That was harder to answer confidently.

And then…

out of nowhere…

A player appeared who could.

And he had been selected as a catcher.

“Looks like choosing three catchers this time was a good move. Hahaha.”

For the past three years, they had selected only two catchers.

This year, they chose three.

And one of them could also play outfield and pitch.

“How should we use Song Seongjun?”

It was a stroke of luck.

But it vastly expanded their strategic options.

“Is there any real question? Just like Coach Bae at Seongun High used himwe should do the same, shouldn’t we?”

Jeong Minseok, head coach of Dongshin High and a member of this national team staff, offered his opinion.

“Shift him to the outfield and use him as the closer?”

“Exactly. Honestly, Yeo Juhyeok looks better defensively at catcher.”

“I agree,” said Yang Jaejin, head coach of Baeseong High.

It wasn’t just the two of them. Head coach Jeong Juchan and the rest of the staff felt the same.

To be honest, Song Seongjun’s catching defense had been… underwhelming compared to expectations.

He wasn’t bad. But he wasn’t exceptional either.

For someone evaluated just months ago as a first-round–level catcher, it was ordinary.

His arm still produced a 1.81-second pop time, but his blocking was unstable. His framing left something to be desired.

The U-18 World Cup would be held in the United States. ABS existed, but not fully… teams had to challenge calls. Framing would still matter.

“Then let’s rotate Yeo Juhyeok and Kim Hyunwoo at catcher.”

Song Seongjun would remain the third catcher, an insurance card.

Instead, one outfield spot would be fixed for him.

“It’s unfortunate for Sanghyeon, but this is the best option.”

They had selected four outfielders: three left-handed hitters and one right-handed hitter.

That single right-handed outfielder was Ahn Sanghyeon of Busan High, a power-type with speed, a strong arm, and offensive upside.

But the catcher they had selected, Song Seongjun, turned out to be a superior version of him in the outfield.

Wider defensive range. Better reads. An arm that could hit 160.

At the plate, seven home runs in the President’s Cup, four more in the ongoing Bonghwang Tournament.

A 140-meter homer with a wood bat.

There was no hitter on the team with more power.

What else needed to be said?

“Then, can we consider roster logistics settled?”

Everyone nodded.

The only question had been how to use Song Seongjun.

“In two days, we have the final exhibition game.”

Two days before departure for the U.S., they were scheduled to play at Gocheok Dome.

“We’ll test the final lineup then.”

With that, Head Coach Jeong Juchan adjourned the meeting.

 

***

 

“Wooooooah~~~!”

Gocheok Dome was packed to capacity.

Apparently, it was for an entertainment program called ‘Flame Baseball’.

Were people this interested in an exhibition game against retired pro players?

All the national team players looked around, mouths open in awe.

Except me.

I must’ve looked the least impressed of all.

It made sense.

As a former major leaguer, this was nothing new.

I had played in stadiums seating over 46,000… even in the World Series.

This place seated what, sixteen thousand?

It barely tickled.

“Doesn’t this faze you at all?”

Oh Sejin, today’s starting center fielder, asked me.

“Would it be weird if it didn’t?”

“Wow. You really look unfazed.”

He looked at me like I was some kind of alien.

“Instead of standing there with your jaw open, focus on playing well. It’s being broadcast on TV too, right? Make your mark.”

“And you’re saying that while looking totally indifferent?”

“Am I?”

I shrugged.

He was perceptive.

He was right…

I genuinely didn’t feel much.

If anything, I just hoped it would be a proper exhibition game.

Still, the coaches must have arranged things carefully.

To be honest, I didn’t know much about this Flame Baseball program.

You might ask how I couldn’t know.

But I don’t know because I don’t know.

Before my regression, I had already left for America at this point.

This was my first time being selected for the youth national team.

‘By the way… where were their seats again?’

Seunghye and my older sister Seunghee had said they were here at Gocheok Dome today.

Tickets were supposedly hard to get. I had no idea how they managed it.

But since they were here, I should go see them before the game.

Camp had kept me away for too long. Even nightly calls weren’t enough.

“Hey! Seongjun! Where are you going?”

“My girlfriend’s here. I’m going to say hi.”

The national team had finished practice. It was free time now.

“Girlfriend? You had a girlfriend?”

“What’s with that look?”

“Can I come too?”

“I’m going to see my girlfriend. Why are you tagging along?”

“You never know. Maybe she can introduce me to someone.”

More interested in the side dish than the ritual offering, huh?

“Do whatever.”

“Thanks, Seongjun!”

I didn’t really care. It would just be a quick hello anyway.

With the dome packed, proper conversation would be impossible amid the noise.

They had seats along the third-base side.

I sharpened my vision and scanned the stands.

I could practically see everyone’s fingernails. Sometimes, even I thought my eyesight was a little scary.

Well, they say Mongolians have eyesight like eagles.

Thanks to that, I spotted them easily.

A bit past third base, mid-level seats on the first tier.

They saw me too and stood up, waving both hands.

I waved back.

“Jun… do well… today!”

They cupped their hands around their mouths to shout. The words came in fragments through the noise.

I got the gist.

“Okay! I will!”

I shouted back the same way.

Did it get through? Probably.

“That’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, she’s pretty. Sisters?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you introduce me?”

“My sister has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, one of them’s your sister? But she really has a boyfriend?”

“Wouldn’t it be weird if she didn’t?”

“True.”

He accepted it instantly… saying she was even prettier than her sister, so of course she’d have a boyfriend. He looked dejected.

Actually, that part was a lie.

Seunghee didn’t have a boyfriend.

But how long had I even known this guy? No way I’d introduce him.

And anyone who asks for an introduction the moment they see someone? I don’t trust that.

 

***

 

Even though it was an entertainment show,

They held the national ceremony and sang the anthem… everything like a proper baseball game.

Then the game began.

The U-18 national team batted first.

Oh Sejin led off.

The Flame Baseball team’s starting pitcher was Jin Wooyoung, who had retired two years ago from the Incheon Forets.

“Strike.”

140 km/h.

“Huh?”

I checked the scoreboard again. That was faster than I expected.

How much had these guys been training after retirement?

Sejin grounded out to second on the second pitch.

Hmm. Maybe we needed to take this more seriously.

“Coach, can I get the pitcher’s data?”

On my way to the on-deck circle, I checked it again.

Honestly, I had underestimated them a little.

But after seeing that first pitch, I changed my mind.

Choi Ilhan of Jeonju Songcheon High came up second.

2–2 count.

He saw five pitches, including a foul ball. I watched closely from the on-deck circle.

On the sixth pitch, he hit a grounder to first baseman Kim Daehan.

The moment the ball was thrown, Jin Wooyoung sprinted to cover first.

When batter and pitcher run together, unless the pitcher makes a mistake, the pitcher always arrives first.

Kim Daehan tossed it underhand.

Jin Wooyoung stepped on the bag.

“Out!”

Second out.

“Nice! Jin Wooyoung! Great cover!”

The stands erupted.

The crowd was overwhelmingly rooting for the Flame Baseball team.

“Fun.”

The corner of my mouth lifted.

It felt like playing an away game against a team with intense home fans.

 

[Now batting third, Song Seongjun.]

[Head Coach Jeong Ju-chan reportedly struggled with where to slot him in the lineup.]

[Personally, I think he’s the most dangerous hitter on this team. He hit a 140-meter wooden-bat homer at the President’s Cup.]

 

“Which school is he from?”

As soon as I stepped up with my bat, the Flame team’s bench started asking.

“Seongun High.”

“Never played them, right?”

“No, not recently.”

“He’s good. Supposedly a lock for first overall pick in the draft.”

“First overall?”

“Better be careful then.”

…About that level of reaction.

High school baseball isn’t widely followed unless you dive into it beyond a hobby.

Even famous names in that world aren’t known by general fans.

That was normal.

Which meant…

The crowd at Gocheok had little interest in me stepping into the box.

They only wanted Jin Wooyoung to strike out a high school kid.

First pitch.

From a sidearm delivery, a slow-breaking ball came in.

“Strike.”

Applause erupted.

Coach Jeong Juchan didn’t look pleased.

Two quick groundouts, and now I had fallen behind with a first-pitch strike.

But whatever anyone thought…

I turned to catcher Park Jaehoon. At least I knew his name, even if I didn’t know the program.

“Slider.”

“Yep. Slider.”

Second pitch… outside slider.

“Ball.”

This time, groans from the crowd.

Was that worthy of a groan?

“You see the ball well?” Park asked.

“It was obvious.”

I can’t lie when I’m in the batter’s box.

“Obvious?”

“Yes. It broke too early to fool me.”

“Huh. Look at this kid.”

He laughed.

Third pitch.

This one felt like an outside fastball, borderline.

As always,

I pulled it in deep,

aimed for right-center,

and swung.

Crack!

“Oh no!”

“Don’t! Don’t!”

A towering shot to right-center.

“Don’t! Don’t!”

 

[A huge drive to right-center! It’s carrying!]

[Ahh— it’s over the fence. A home run.]

[Song Seongjun is unbelievable. A swing worthy of the high school home run king.]

 

“Aaaahhh…”

“A homer already?”

“A high schooler can homer at Gocheok?”

Groans filled the stands.

“Who is that kid? He can really hit.”

“Song Seongjun? Who?”

One by one, people pulled out their phones to look me up.

A home run in the first at-bat will do that.

There were plenty of articles, blogs, and even YouTube videos about me.

It wasn’t that the information wasn’t there.

People just hadn’t been curious before.

“He’s legit?”

“First overall pick?”

“He throws 160?”

“Hit a 140-meter homer?”

“A Major League team offered five million dollars, and he turned it down to stay in Korea?”

“Who the hell is this guy?”