Let's Induce Some Play
The caster, still buzzing with excitement, continued with a chuckle. "Wow, a bunt double. This scene really brings back memories of commentator Lee Seo-jin's playing days, doesn't it?"
At that, commentator Lee Seo-jin let out a low laugh. "Haha, yeah, it took me back for a moment. Never thought I'd witness something like this."
After letting the moment linger, Lee Seo-jin calmly broke down the situation. "That's actually an incredibly rare play. Kim Hu-seong's got quick feet, and the bunt just happened to pop up perfectly under those conditions."
He paused briefly, eyes flicking back to the screen. The replay was rolling in slow motion.
"But here's the thing."
The caster caught the subtle hesitation. "But?"
Lee Seo-jin added his thoughts cautiously. "Kim Hu-seong might have induced this situation on purpose."
The booth grew more serious.
"It started with the bunt toward third. It was this close to succeeding. That pulled the defense in, and then he gripped the bat short on purpose, planting the idea of another bunt in the pitcher's mind."
The caster nodded, picking up the thread. "So you're saying he pulled it intentionally to aim for a bunt hit?"
Lee Seo-jin smiled. "Yeah, there's plenty of room for that interpretation. Or at least, a bunt toward first base was highly likely. The third-base foul bunt? Success is a home run; failure, and he's already set up for the next move."
The caster laughed in surprise. "So that third-base foul was just a smokescreen?"
Lee Seo-jin nodded firmly. "I think Kim Hu-seong's capable of that. Scenes like this show he's sharp—quick judgment on the fly, bold, and he knows how to set the table. He reads opponents and dictates the play."
"So what's Kim Hu-seong's value looking like? With all these sabermetrics breaking it down, he must seem like a real standout, right?"
"That's why Kim Hu-seong's such a complicated player."
Lee Seo-jin started rattling off some lists. "Coach Kim Young-ho loves his sabermetrics—he's probably wondering where a guy like this came from. Right now, Kim Hu-seong's batting .290, on-base .300, slugging .290—for an OPS of .590. wRC+ is 75."
"So as a hitter, Kim Hu-seong's not exactly elite?"
Lee Seo-jin nodded at the caster's question. "Right. But!" He moved to the next list. "Kim Hu-seong scores a ton of runs. He's at 62 now—basically one per game. At this rate, he'll crack 100 by season's end, maybe even lead the league. He's top-tier already. And stolen bases? Solo second, and trending toward first."
"Do those stats show up in sabermetrics?"
"They do. Baserunning metrics boost him big time. Lucky break. His WAR's over 2.0, so as a leadoff hitter, he's got the chops—no one's benching him. It takes some digging to see just how valuable he is."
"Does all that fouling push up his pitches per plate appearance too?"
"Spot on. League average is 3.9 pitches per PA—nearly 4. Kim Hu-seong's grinding out 4.5 alone. Sky-high."
As he spoke, the screen cut to the next at-bat.
"Incredible. And... oh! Now leadoff hitter Kim Han-seong steps up."
Right on cue, Kim Han-seong lifted a fly ball high toward center. "Fly ball! Caught. Inning over."
The caster caught his breath. "But in the bottom of the eighth, the Turkeys pulled off the comeback win. We'll return for the top of the ninth."
The fly out ended the top of the eighth. I pulled off my helmet, caught my breath, and headed back to the dugout.
The dugout, roaring with cheers just moments ago, had gone eerily quiet. It felt oppressive as I slipped in quietly.
Manager Kim Young-ho glanced at me as I entered. "…"
He looked like he wanted to say something. Uh... why the silence?
I hesitated, then spoke first—I had a question. "Manager, where am I playing defense?"
He shook his head. "You? You're not."
Then, to the head coach beside him: "Defense coach, put in the backup catcher. Baek Do-hyun."
"Got it."
He turned back to me. "Kim Hu-seong, you did your job. Go rest."
Rest? Relief washed over me. Phew... dodged becoming the villain.
I sighed in relief and retreated deeper into the dugout. The manager probably wanted to chew me out—something about vanishing or team play. But after setting up the go-ahead, it was awkward to gripe now.
Kim Young-ho shifted focus. "Jo Seon-jae for the ninth. Close it out. Whew, did we really have to grind this one out?"
"Understood. Sending him in."
The pitching coach prepped Jo Seon-jae. One inning left.
I settled quietly in the back, but it still felt like sitting on pins. I watched Jo Seon-jae take the mound, waiting out the ninth in silence.
- Strike three! Jo Seon-jae wraps it with three Ks!
Jo Seon-jae dominated the top of the ninth. Each pitch hushed the crowd; the final out unleashed stadium-wide cheers.
Final: 5-4. A gritty, solid win.
Post-game, I drew player-of-the-game interview duty. Kim Jin-ho, today's MVP, had just finished his.
Mic in hand, it finally sank in.
Lee Seo-jin smiled first. "Congrats on the win, Kim Hu-seong."
"Thank you."
I bowed. Then the big question hit. "One thing I have to ask: those bunts as a pinch hitter—were they all intentional plays?"
I paused, scenes flashing in my mind. Honest answer: "Uh... the third-base one, yeah, intentional. Their positioning screamed bunt opportunity, so I went for it on impulse."
"Knew it. And the rest...?"
"That follow-up? No. Pure luck."
Lee Seo-jin burst out laughing. "Humble, huh."
I shook my head frantically. "No, really—it was luck..."
But he pressed on. "Luck, he says. Plenty of that play wasn't luck, and now he's slinking away sly as a fox in the interview. Classic leadoff craftiness. National team-caliber misdirection, right?"
Gasp! Hold up! National team mention gave me chills. Panicked, I clarified. "No, really—not calculated. Just how it played out. Total coincidence."
Back in the locker room post-interview, a few guys had already left. Gu Min-seok and Son Tae-ho both stared at me, faces unreadable and dark.
Ah... here it comes. Time for the lecture. Vanishing act, burden on the team—expected it. I bowed slightly first.
Son Tae-ho spoke instead. "Hm... nah."
I looked up reflexively. "Go rest today."
...?
Short and done. Surprising—the captain should've said something. I stood a beat, then murmured agreement and started packing quietly.
Shouldering my bag toward the door, their stares burned my back. Why not just say it...? But they said go, so I prepped to head home.
After Kim Hu-seong shut the door, Gu Min-seok spoke first. "What do we do about him?"
Son Tae-ho crossed his arms, pondering. "Hm... headache."
He tilted his head. "Answer's obvious, right? Overdid training again, crashed out for a nap like last time."
Gu Min-seok nodded. "Probably. Anything else, and he'd have shown up on time."
Son Tae-ho chuckled briefly, then sobered. "Honestly? Easy to rip slackers—they give you ammo. But this guy's different."
Gu Min-seok got it, nodding. "Yeah. Do-yoon whipped him into shape a bit. He's slacking some now, but..."
Son Tae-ho sighed. "That's the issue. Hu-seong covers for him anyway. But... hard to yell at a guy who trains like hell solo, hustles in games, then drops."
"Right. Tough to call out. Especially after he pinch-hit and delivered today."
"He needs someone holding the reins tight."
Gu Min-seok tilted his head. "Reins?"
"Yeah. Redirect that insane training into something else. Tell him to ease up, and he ignores coaches, starts at 6 a.m. No fixing it. Even we can't. Maybe someone classic—like a supportive partner—could balance him? Didn't he mention a girl?"
"Heard he has one... but... too soon? She's young, and that last incident might still be an issue..."
"Who cares? Hu-seong feels like a runaway train right now. Good he's a position player—at least not a pitcher who'd blow up in one go..."
Gu Min-seok nodded quietly in agreement. "True. So... let's induce some play."