You've Grown, So Have I
Improved, huh? Then me too—shiiiik!Tik! I pushed Choi Kang-hyuk's outside fastball straight back as a foul. Catching my breath as I watched the ball roll toward third base, I thought, Damn, it's fast...
I quickly pulled up everything I knew about Choi Kang-hyuk in my head. His strength lay in mixing changeups and sliders with his high-velocity fastball to disrupt timing. But as I glanced at the scoreboard, one number caught my eye. The fastball clocked in at 153. Hmm... Has his velocity dropped? I gripped the bat a little tighter. No room for complacency, though. He was still the ace.
Choi Kang-hyuk went into his windup again. The pitch looked like another outside fastball. I swung lightly to foul it off toward third once more. But as it neared the plate, it suddenly tailed inside. Huh? No time to think—I instinctively tried to adjust the bat path, snapping my wrists faster. Too late. The bat came out at an awkward angle, clipping the ball weakly on the inside. Tik!
It should have gone down the third-base foul line, but instead, it rolled toward the third baseman. Shit! The second I realized, I gritted my teeth and sprinted to first. But the third baseman scooped it up leisurely and fired to first. "Out!"
I stepped on the bag a step late and dipped my head slightly. Hoo... What the hell was that? Helmet off, trudging back to the dugout, I replayed the at-bat in my mind. That pitch was weird...
The moment I hit the dugout, Hwang Do-yoon sidled up. "What'd you get caught on?"
I thought for a second, replaying it. "It was a fastball, but... something changed at the end."
"Like a snakeball? Good movement?"
"Kinda, but the break came late. Not a crazy bend or anything... I knew he threw four-seamers, sliders, changeups—no such pitch in his arsenal..."
"You check the recent scouting reports?"
Jeong I-hoon, prepping to enter the on-deck circle, chimed in. Recent reports? A chill ran down my spine at his words. That phrasing—he'd already seen them. Meaning something had changed.
Ah, damn. My condition was off today; I slacked during rest and missed it. Of all things, this changed. Would it have been different if I'd reviewed the analytics team's latest file? Anyway... Careless. No, not careless—exhausted. Still, I should've checked.
A few regrets flashed by. "I'll go check."
I stood without another word and headed straight to the clubhouse. Pulling up the scouting reports, one line on Choi Kang-hyuk jumped out.
Son of a... It all clicked like puzzle pieces. That pitch that started outside like a fastball then dived inside at the end—it was a sinker. A backdoor sinker coming from outside into the strike zone. The low-150s velocity on the board made sense now. He'd dialed back the four-seamer to match the speed of his new sinker and cutter.
Choi Kang-hyuk... You've grown too... I grumbled inwardly but had to admit it. He'd lowered his velocity on purpose to blend four-seamers, sinkers, and cutters. Distinguishing them would be a nightmare. The intimidation of a pitcher mixing three fastball types was indescribable. Our ace starter, the import Spencer, was exactly that archetype.
Those late breaks induced grounders... Just like my previous at-bat. Right now, he was the trickiest matchup for me.
So how do I handle him?
"What was the issue?"
"Sinker. And he throws a cutter too."
Back in the dugout, I answered Hwang Do-yoon. "Yeah? Sounds tricky. You went down easier than expected in the first."
"Yep... Gotta figure out a counter."
I watched from the dugout as Choi Kang-hyuk carved up our lineup like a chef.
* * *
Bottom of the fourth. Shockingly, from the end of the first through the third, our hitters hadn't squared up a single ball. The cutters and sinkers mixed into fastball timing made bats late or die weakly on contact.
The lineup cycled back to me. One out, no runners. Before stepping in, I detoured to the clubhouse and popped another macaron. Energy surged back after the three-inning drought.
Hoo... Can't swing like before.
In the box, I changed plans: See at least two pitches, no exceptions. Don't react rashly—learn his stuff first.
Shiiiik! Pot!
First pitch: outside four-seamer fastball. It missed just enough for ball one.
Shiiiik! Pot!
Second: a cutter tailing off outside. Similar location to before, but different feel. The initial action matched. No big late break. Good—two balls means two more looks. But the core problem lingered. Three fastball variants: four-seamer included. One or the other would've been calculable, but all three? Cold sweat.
A slight mistimed cut meant groundout city. Odds weren't 1/2—they were 1/3. Brutal. How do I hit this?
Shiiiik! Pot!
"Strike!"
This one: four-seamer middle-low strike zone. Hmm...? Risky spot for a strike he knew I'd take? And not blazing velocity.
Aha! Choi Kang-hyuk's control was solid but not elite. He'd always trusted his stuff and attacked the zone confidently. But pros exploit that. So now he mixed fastball variants to compensate.
Not pinpoint command corner-to-corner, but hammering one zone. From overpowering K's to groundball machine. Bad matchup for me. But spotting it was progress.
So how to counter? Can't win like this. I need to adapt.
I'd always swung at close pitches—anything brushing the zone got the bat. That was my survival hack. Reverse it. Play it straight. Swing only if it's definitely a strike.
Mind made up, my head cleared. Perfect timing: 2-1 count. I locked in on the pitcher. Shitty control. Thinks I'll chase borderline. Fake the swing, take it.
I studied his pre-pitch stance, windup, release point, wrist angle. Like glaring from second.
Shiiiiiik! Pot!
...Sharp. Changeup diving under the four-seamer plane. Normally, I'd swing—likely whiff or weak grounder.
And the broadcast booth didn't miss it.
Wait... Hold up. My eyes flashed. I'd spotted the tell—but only after the changeup meant for me.
Definite. On fastball family pitches, his arm muscles tensed. Absent on sliders or changeups. Fleeting, but reviewing prior deliveries confirmed it.
Choi Kang-hyuk steadied his breath, prepping. Good—borderline fastball coming... Offspeed, cut it.
Muscle twitch. Fastball family. Hold...
Shiiiik!
Another four-seamer brushing the outside corner. Pot!
...
I awkwardly shed my gear and walked to first. Got it. Success. My choice was right.
Whoa~! A rare sight, folks. Kim Hu-seong advances on balls to first base.