Seizing the Momentum Early
The game against the Pigeons had begun. I walked slowly to my shortstop position, glancing naturally toward the visitors' dugout on the third base side. Waves of cheers from the Gwangju Pigeons cheer squad crashed over us, filling the stadium with their chants.
"Kang Do-yoon! Kang Do-yoon!"
"Run hard, Kang Do-yoon~!"
I heard the name of the Pigeons' leadoff hitter, Kang Do-yoon, and in the center of that roar, I spotted a familiar face. It was Kim Se-rin, the cheerleader. Her platinum blonde hair—the only one like it—stood out more than anyone, and I found myself looking twice before turning away.
...Yeah, alright. I'll hit .300 over this three-game series. I repeated it to myself inwardly. Ever since that day, my stats had improved. And in baseball, numbers don't lie.
Recent slump had dragged me down to .250, but I'd found my rhythm again against the Busan Siguls, pulling up to .270. Then, against the Jamsil Falcons, my focus sharpened, recovering to .290. A little more polish, and I'd hit .300. This series against the Pigeons would decide if I got there or fell further behind.
The batter stepped in, and on the mound stood today's starter, fifth pitcher Jeong Tae-kyun. His expression was stiffer than usual as he fiddled with the ball, steadying his breath. I slipped on my glove, bent my knees lightly, and settled into my defensive stance. The catcher flashed a sign, and the pitcher nodded.
* * *
Tsk... The vibe was off from the top of the first. Our starter today was the fifth guy. He had good velocity but shaky control—that was his weakness.
Sure enough, right out of the gate, Pigeons leadoff hitter Kang Do-yoon capitalized on Jeong Tae-kyun's hanging breaking ball, ripping a clean single. The ball scooted quickly toward second, and second baseman Kim Han-seong dove for it, but it just grazed his glove and squirted into the outfield.
"Ooooh! Waaaaah!!"
The crowd erupted again, and I instinctively grimaced. A speedy runner on first—trouble from the jump. I shifted a step inward from shortstop. Kang Do-yoon was taking a big lead at first, always in my peripheral. He could bolt any second.
Then No. 2 hitter Lee Sang-hoon stepped up. Jeong Tae-kyun steadied himself and fired.
Thwack!
The ball came rolling my way off Lee Sang-hoon's bat. Bounce, bounce, bounce—irregular hops. I lunged forward on instinct, snaring it barehanded. My natural play was to fire to first.
But the second I gripped it, something felt off. In that split instant, I flicked my eyes toward second—and it all clicked. First-base runner Kang Do-yoon had already broken, tagging second. He was stealing...
Not sliding. If I throw to first, he'll dive for third.
I switched gears instantly. Faked a throw to first, whipping my arm that way. Kang Do-yoon didn't brake at all, barreling toward third. The Pigeons' third-base coach signaled him back frantically once he realized no throw was coming, but it was too late. I lofted it casually to third, where Edison tagged him out.
Kim Hu-seong's judgment was spot-on. So calm and collected. Kang Do-yoon got completely fooled.
I let out a short breath and reset. "Nice, thanks."
Jeong Tae-kyun, the pitcher who'd nearly given up third, shot me a grateful nod. I dipped my head slightly and geared up for the next hitter.
No. 3, Mun Tae-kyung. One out, runner on first. Jeong Tae-kyun seemed steadier now. He unleashed toward the batter.
Thwack!
Mun Tae-kyung's grounder scooted right in front of me again—tricky bounce. I timed my jump perfectly, snagged it barehanded, dropped, and flipped to second baseman Kim Han-seong on the bag. He pivoted smoothly to first. The ball smacked clean into the first baseman's mitt. Double play—ump called two outs in a row.
What a tough grounder... but Kim Hu-seong shuts it down again.
Top of the first, the Pigeons had a few chances, but Kim Hu-seong's defense snuffed them all out.
From the Turkeys' side, it's a feel-good start.
The noisy top of the first wrapped up. Time to hit.
Up to bat: Kim Hu-seong, who's already shining today.
I strode to the plate, staring down the opposition. Their infielders had shifted way forward.
Just as expected... The shift that's killed me most this year. To bust it, we've been playing endurance games from day one.
But no need anymore. Time to harvest what we've sown. Not Plan A—back to Plan B.
Plan B needed even more precise reads on their infielders' states. The Pigeons' strength was their up-the-middle: quick-reaction shortstop and second baseman with huge range, plus a defensive catcher. Center was tough. Sides it was.
As a lefty, their shift skewed right. So, target third baseman's left side near the bag or the hole between third and short.
Pigeons ace Thompson wound up and fired.
Whiiir—pop!
Not-hard fastball right down the middle—strike. They knew from Plan A I rarely swung first pitch, so they dared it. Next one too, probably.
And yep. The second pitch left his hand, and I was ready. I swung a bit higher than usual at the changeup looping in.
Thwack!
Splits the shortstop and third baseman clean. Both react, but a beat too slow. Not scorching, but too far forward to field.
A quick gasp rose from the first-base stands. I jogged casually to first, safe without a sweat.
Mixing it up—pushes the second-pitch changeup for the hit.
At first, I kicked off the antics right away. Pretending to catch my breath, I sneaked glances at the dugout, gesturing, nodding, shaking my head—random signals, mixed to look like we were exchanging signs.
Not impromptu—this was premeditated fake signs, performed blatantly. Manager Kim Young-ho wasn't the micromanaging type; he trusted us to read and react. He wouldn't sweat my theatrics. But Gu Min-seok had pushed back: At least loop in the manager so they see him react—it'll confuse them more, avoid misunderstandings. So, dugout was fully briefed.
Their pitcher and catcher ate it up, eyes glued to me, tension obvious. I swallowed a smirk, widened my lead, and acted aggressive on the bases.
That bench sign exchange probably factored in.
Hmm... Tough call. Looks like a steal sign, but he's extra aggressive today. Maybe not.
Lee Seo-jin looked puzzled but nailed it quick.
Honestly, that looked awkward. Like deliberate deception... Not Turkeys' style. Too sign-heavy.
First pitch as predicted: Thompson, wary of my steal, fired a pitchout—high-outside fastball, quick and sharp. Anyone could see he was keyed on me.
Here it comes!
But I wasn't swinging. Gu Min-seok was. We'd prepped for this scenario: If they pitch out and it's hittable outside, you got it? And it was—Gu Min-seok leaned out and pushed it.
Thwack!
The instant Gu Min-seok made contact, I bolted. No need to look—the ball hugged the line past first, rolling hot. Right fielder chased it down and fired, but I was rounding second, spikes kissing the bag, powering to third. Second baseman fielded and threw home, but I trotted in standing—no slide needed.
"Nice!"
"Sweet!"
I fist-bumped the third-base coach. Just three pitches: no outs, runners on first and third. Ace Thompson's face was visibly tight. The flow had flipped completely our way from the start.