The regional league opener was two weeks away.
The intensity of Hanseong Little League's practices had risen noticeably.
Defense in the morning.
Hitting in the afternoon.
Even after practice ended, most of the players didn't go home.
Some swung their bats, while others played catch until the lights went out.
Junho was no different.
He stood in front of the outfield fence, repeatedly catching fly balls hit by Coach Oh Sejin.
"One more."
The coach's bat sent the ball into the air again.
Junho read the wind and moved before the ball.
Whap.
The ball disappeared into his glove.
"Good."
The coach's words were brief, but his satisfied expression said more.
"Junho."
"Yes, Coach."
"You read the ball well now."
Junho looked up.
"But you're still missing one thing."
"What's that?"
The coach gestured toward the entire outfield.
"Leadership."
Junho looked confused.
"An outfielder isn't a player who defends alone."
The coach continued, ball in hand.
"You have to move the left and right fielders."
"And stay connected with the infield."
"A good center fielder isn't someone who simply catches the ball."
He looked at Junho for a moment.
"He's someone who moves the entire outfield."
Those words stayed with Junho for a long time.
In soccer, the midfielder was the position that connected the team.
In baseball, the center fielder had the role of connecting the outfield.
The sports were different, but the responsibility was similar.
That afternoon.
They began a defensive drill on their own.
Seongmin played left field.
Junho played center.
Jiho played right.
The three of them took charge of the outfield together.
The first batted ball.
An ordinary fly ball in front of the right fielder.
Jiho handled it cleanly.
The second.
A deep ball toward left field.
Seongmin calmly caught it.
The third.
A ball floated ambiguously into left-center.
Seongmin ran for it.
So did Junho.
For a moment, they reached nearly the same spot.
"I've got it!"
Seongmin shouted.
Junho yelled at the same time.
"Mine!"
They hesitated for a split second.
Trying to avoid each other, they both lost their balance.
The ball dropped onto the grass between them.
Thump.
The field fell silent.
"Time."
Coach Oh Sejin walked over slowly.
They thought he was going to get angry.
Instead, the coach picked up the fallen ball and asked,
"Whose mistake was it?"
Junho spoke first.
"It was my fault."
Seongmin immediately followed.
"No, it was mine. I called it too late."
The coach looked from one to the other.
"You're both wrong."
Junho and Seongmin looked up at the same time.
"This wasn't an individual mistake."
The coach pointed toward the outfield.
"It was a communication mistake."
He tossed the ball into the air for a moment, then caught it again.
"Of course you both run for the same ball."
"But."
The coach's voice dropped slightly.
"Deciding who's going to catch it comes first."
Junho thought of soccer.
There had been a similar moment before.
A moment when he and Hyunwoo had run for the same ball and nearly collided.
Every time it happened, Minseok shouted loudly.
"Junho!"
That one word was enough for everyone to adjust their movements.
Coach Oh Sejin returned to his position.
"One more time."
Another similar ball went up.
This time, Junho shouted first.
"I'm going!"
Seongmin immediately slowed down and covered behind him.
Whap.
The ball settled safely into Junho's glove.
The coach nodded.
"That's it."
"Good defense doesn't begin when you catch the ball."
He smiled at Junho.
"It begins the moment you decide who's going to catch it."
Hearing that, Junho quietly looked down at his glove.
In soccer.
In baseball.
He was slowly learning that a team didn't move in silence—it moved through the voices of its members.
But practice wasn't over yet.
Coach Oh Sejin called all the players over, a new ball in his hand.
Then he said quietly,
"Now we'll start the really difficult drill."
The players' faces tensed again.
The players gathered once more in front of home plate.
Coach Oh Sejin wrote one large word on the whiteboard.
"Relay play."
"This is the last drill of the day."
The players looked at one another.
A relay play was a drill in which an outfielder connected the ball to the correct base through the infield.
A quick throw was important, but it was more important to know whom to throw to, when to throw, and how to make the connection.
The coach looked at Junho.
"Center fielder."
"Yes, Coach."
"Today, you're in charge of the outfield."
Junho looked surprised for a moment.
"Me?"
"That's right."
The coach nodded.
"You can't stop at being a player who only catches the ball."
The drill began.
The first batted ball rolled in front of the right fielder.
Right fielder Jiho picked it up but hesitated briefly before throwing.
At that moment, Junho shouted,
"Second!"
Jiho threw to second without hesitation.
Minjae attempted the tag.
"Out!"
The coach gave a few brief claps.
"Good."
The second.
This time, a deep ball flew in front of left fielder Seongmin.
The moment Seongmin caught it, Junho was already covering behind him and shouted,
"Cut! Third!"
Seongmin's throw went straight to the relay man,
and the ball was quickly connected to third base.
The runner couldn't advance any farther.
The drill grew more complicated.
This time, a ball soared high in front of Junho.
After making a steady catch, Junho briefly shifted his gaze.
First.
Second.
Third.
He quickly checked the runner's position.
At that moment, Minjae's voice rang out.
"Home!"
Junho threw with all his strength.
The ball was relayed through the shortstop to home plate.
The catcher attempted the tag.
"Out!"
A cheer erupted from the dugout.
Minjae ran over with a grin.
"That was a great read."
Junho caught his breath before answering.
"You called it first."
Minjae shook his head.
"No."
"You saw the runner first."
Without saying a word, Coach Oh Sejin wrote the scene down in his notebook.
A little later, when practice ended, he called the players together again.
"There was one especially important moment today."
The players turned their attention to the coach.
"Kang Junho."
Junho stepped forward.
"When you first came to the baseball field..."
The coach said with a smile,
"you were a player who only watched where the ball would land."
Junho listened quietly.
"But today was different."
The coach gestured toward the outfield.
"Before catching the ball,"
"you looked at where your teammates were first."
Only then did Junho realize that he had naturally been checking everyone's positions.
It wasn't something anyone had taught him.
Back when he played soccer,
he had developed a habit of always looking at the entire field, and that habit had stayed in his body.
The coach closed his notebook and said,
"Baseball is a game of throwing the ball, but..."
"A good player controls the game with his vision."
Those words slowly warmed Junho's heart.
After practice was completely over.
Seongmin approached Junho with two drinks in hand.
"Want one?"
Junho accepted it with a smile.
"Thanks."
An awkward silence passed between them.
Seongmin was the first to speak.
"Honestly, I didn't like you at first."
Junho listened quietly.
"It felt like this kid coming over from soccer was taking my spot."
Seongmin gave an embarrassed laugh.
"But after seeing you today, I get it."
"You weren't trying to take my spot."
He paused, then held out his hand.
"You're the kind of guy who wants us to get better together."
Junho smiled and took his hand.
"I'm learning a lot, too."
The two shook hands briefly.
Watching them from a distance, Coach Oh Sejin smiled quietly.
On the last page of his notebook, he wrote a single line.
"Kang Junho is beginning to see the team."
Junho was still a baseball player.
But no one knew yet.
When this vision and judgment returned to the soccer field years later,
it would become the greatest weapon he had for changing the flow of a game.