Clutch Pinch Hit Against the Closer
Gu Min-seok, the team's reliable second baseman facing off against the closer, had been in a foul mood right before the game started. Kim Hu-seong was nowhere to be seen.
He knew the guy was sitting out today's game, but that didn't mean he had to vanish. Even if you're resting, shouldn't you be chilling in the dugout? Where the hell did he go? His eyes flicked to the lineup sheet again, then scanned the dugout and locker room. Still nothing. Gu Min-seok clicked his tongue. Probably passed out somewhere, sleeping like a log again.
And just like that, the game kicked off. A few teammates muttered Kim Hu-seong's name, glancing around, but Hwang Do-yoon drawled nonchalantly, "Just leave him be. He said he got here early today—probably crashed out for a full night's sleep again."
Everyone let out short sighs. Damn, what a lost cause.
In the end, they decided to play without him. The game came first, after all.
The mood at the start was all about grabbing momentum early, but things went south faster than expected. MacPhies' fifth starter hung in there tougher than anticipated, while Turkeys' number two, Mike, was visibly off his game. His control wobbled, and he gave up three runs. The dugout grew heavier by the inning.
Every chance to rally, they lagged just a step behind. Opportunities fizzled out one after another. Then, once MacPhies' fifth guy came out, the counterattack began. They chipped away one run at a time, and before long, the score tightened to 5-4.
In that tense atmosphere, bottom of the eighth finally delivered: two outs, bases loaded.
The next up from the on-deck circle was ninth batter, catcher Jang Ha-jun. He adjusted his helmet, ready to step in. Everyone was watching—then the dugout call came down.
"Pinch hitter, get ready."
Jang Ha-jun tilted his head, then nodded and backed off slowly. In his place, one player grabbed a bat and strode out.
Gu Min-seok's eyes widened. What? Kim Hu-seong? The guy who'd vanished was pinch-hitting like nothing happened. Gu Min-seok let out a disbelieving chuckle. No way—this timing, and it's him?
This is where I turn it all around.
Stepping into the box, I mulled over how to approach the pitcher. The guy was Hwang Min-jae, one of Daejeon MacPhies' better bullpen arms. At least he wasn't some scrub reliever—that was a small mercy.
Alright, let's do this.
But then the vibe shifted. Suddenly, the MacPhies manager raised his hand, and a reliever bolted in from the pen.
No way... But yep, it happened.
> Pitching change. Closer Kim Jun-seo is entering the game.
Why a closer on my at-bat? I sighed inwardly.
But the reason clicked fast. I was leading off this stretch, followed by Kim Han-seong, then Gu Min-seok. The top of the order was resetting right here. And with 5-4, two outs, bases juiced? For MacPhies, getting past this inning meant victory. Holding back the closer would've been weird—bringing him in now was textbook.
MacPhies' closer, Kim Jun-seo, hit the mound and fired a few heaters to loosen up. His four-seam fastball clocked late 150s. The ball had life, thumping heavy into the mitt. Add a curve that stole all timing and a slider that slipped sideways, and you had a classic power pitcher with sharp change-of-pace stuff.
I eased my grip on the bat. Going straight power against him wouldn't be easy. Especially not in my current shape.
Then Kim Jun-seo whipped his head toward third and fired a pickoff. The ball zipped over, and runner Jeong Yi-hoon dove back desperately. Dirt flew, glove tagged leather. Close call.
But watching that sparked something in my head. That's it.
After the pickoff to third, I casually scanned the defense. Bingo!
Third baseman's foot was a beat closer to the bag. Not standard for two-outs loaded. That one pickoff had pulled him in half a step—maybe a full one. No more second-guessing. The play was clear.
Kim Jun-seo went into his windup. Ball left his hand.
> Pitcher has delivered.
A timing-stealing curve. But with no intention to swing, dodging was easy. I just pushed my left hand forward along the bat barrel.
Plop.
Just grazed it with the end. The ball trickled toward third.
> Batter lays down a bunt! A bunt with two outs and bases loaded!
Two guys panicked at once. MacPhies' third sacker Ha Tae-gyun bulged his eyes and lunged forward. Third-base runner Jeong Yi-hoon bolted home on instinct.
I took my first step, calculating. All safe. Ball speed, fielder spot, runner's jump—perfect alignment.
But then Ha Tae-gyun switched gears. No glove out for the ball. He froze. Fouling off, he figured.
The ball rolled down the line and crossed into foul territory.
> Foul ball!
"Ah..."
Sighs leaked from the dugout. Murmurs rose from the stands. Damn... so close... I exhaled sharply, helmet off.
> What a wild play there.
> Exactly. That's why you can't help but love Kim Hu-seong. Beast mode heart. A bunt with two outs loaded? Walking a tightrope, but it nearly worked.
> No prior signal, so Jeong Yi-hoon looked rattled dashing home—iconic.
> But solid read from third base?
> Yep. Ha Tae-gyun's veteran call saved them from a ridiculous tie. Whew, ball rolls foul—we breathe. One more shot, time to buckle up.
I shook my head with obvious regret, trudging back to the plate. That foul shouldn't have ended it. But the game's not over yet.
Deep breath. I scanned their infield casually. Ripple from the bunt attempt—they were all a step forward, bracing for another surprise.
Whew, same trick won't fly twice.
Then one guy caught my eye. MacPhies' first baseman Hong Je-ju—momentary lapse? Post-play fog?—was standing closer to the bag than usual.
I kept my cool, head up, eyes on the pitcher. But in my mind: bunt picture forming. To first this time. Way higher odds.
'Grip's shorter.'
Kim Jun-seo spotted my tweak. Subtle, but he didn't miss it. He read the bunt intent. And knew the perfect counter.
'High inside fastball.'
He flashed signs with the catcher and fired.
Whiiip—
Instant read: That's head-high! Too quick, too inside. I flinched hard. Ball rode higher than expected—I backpedaled on reflex. Head protection first. In the chaos, my bunt-ready arms flailed.
Plock!
Before I knew it, ball met bat. Not a swing—just grazed while dodging, blocking. But then it popped up, arcing way off-script. Long parabola.
> Did Kim Hu-seong make contact?
> Over the second baseman's head.
No time to toss the bat proper—I sprinted full tilt. No thinking.
Ball dropped behind second in the grass. Center fielder raced in, snagged it. Too late. By the time he glanced home, runners were scoring. Maybe tag second?
His throw to second—I dove headlong for the bag. Fierce slide, foot down. Peripheral: runners sliding home.
> Third runner, second runner scores!
> And Kim Hu-seong to second with insane speed.
> Two more runs—Gocheok Turkeys take the lead on the comeback!
Standing up, pitcher Kim Jun-seo and second baseman Jeong In-cheol stared blankly, dazed.
Got 'em. We live.
Then it hit: the roar.
"Kim Hu-seong! Kim Hu-seong!"
Gocheok Stadium, Turkeys' home, was electric. Fan chants crashed like waves. Ears ringing.
"Kim Hu-seong! Kim Hu-seong!"
"Kim Hu-seong! Kim Hu-seong!"
Turkeys fans chanting my name. I looked to the first-base stands, pumped my fist in a quick celebration.