Role Reversal
One out, runners on first and second. Choi Woo-seong, the Gwangju Pigeons' catcher, steadied his breathing behind the mask.
Haah... What the hell do I do with those guys?
His mind was a whirlwind. Everyone knew by now that the runners on first and second would likely go at the same time. The problem was choosing which one to stop. Trying to get both was impossible. Letting both go was entirely possible too—and the worst was overcommitting on one, botching the throw, and watching the ball sail away. That was the catcher's ultimate nightmare.
But skipping the attempt altogether would be dereliction of duty for a pro, so Choi Woo-seong kept racking his brain for a solution. His gaze naturally drifted to third baseman Kang Do-yoon, then shifted to second baseman Moon Tae-kyung. Third base had the advantage of a shorter throw, but the runner on second, Kim Hu-seong, was lightning-fast. Plus, Kang Do-yoon's defense was just a hair lacking. Second base, on the other hand, meant a longer, riskier throw, but the runner on first, Gu Min-seok, was relatively slow. And with veteran Moon Tae-kyung handling second, the tag would at least be clean. Experience and reliability both favored Moon.
Choi Woo-seong finally decided. In a spot like this, forget the gamble—go with the odds. Trust the battle-tested infield core. The sign went down from the catcher, Thompson dropped into his set position, and the pitch flew.
Whiiip— Pitchout.
In that instant, out of the corner of his eye, Choi Woo-seong caught second-base runner Kim Hu-seong twitching into his lead-off stride. Just as expected. He sprang up reflexively, prepping the throw to second. His mind was locked in: second base it was.
But right then—in the split second before the throw—something felt off. A weird dissonance. Glancing toward first as he wound up, he realized the runner who should have been charging wasn't there. The first-base runner hadn't budged.
No double steal.
The realization hit, and his judgment shattered. His body was already oriented toward second. But as a veteran, he jerked toward third instead. The ball sailed to third, but that tiny hesitation was all the time Kim Hu-seong needed. He was already diving for the bag, sliding prep complete.
Third baseman Kang Do-yoon snagged the glove and stretched low for the tag. But...
"Safe!"
The umpire's arms flew wide. Choi Woo-seong bowed his head.
"Ah... Choi Woo-seong's hanging his head..."
The caster's voice carried a note of regret. Then came commentator Lee Seo-jin's follow-up.
"This moment? Honestly, as a catcher, it'd make you hate baseball."
Lee Seo-jin paused to gather his thoughts before continuing.
"If it were the Eulji Crows, they'd almost always go double steal in this spot. But this is the Turkeys. No call from the manager. So yeah, you read it as a double and throw to second—but then the first runner stays put."
He glanced sympathetically at Choi Woo-seong.
"What's brutal about this for the catcher is he nailed it. Everything except that hesitation. If he'd gone straight to third per the book... Or if the first runner had gone and he'd thrown to second, he'd have had a great shot at the out."
"Ah... but..."
"Yeah. Worst-case outcome. Choi Woo-seong knows it—if he'd stuck to the script, he'd have nabbed the second runner. But he switched, and it backfired. That's why he's beating himself up."
Veteran Pigeons catcher Choi Woo-seong shook his head slowly and settled back in. Lee Seo-jin fell silent for a beat, then let out a low, sigh-laced chuckle.
"But here's the real kicker—Choi Woo-seong's nightmare isn't over yet."
The caster jumped on it.
"Huh? Not over?"
Lee Seo-jin flicked his eyes toward the field and spoke calmly.
"One out, runners on first and third now. Didn't we see something like this in the first inning?"
His words barely landed before the caster's pitch rose an octave.
"Oh! You don't mean..."
Lee Seo-jin nodded.
"Yeah. This time it's the real double steal. Tougher than the one-two setup before. They beat you last time, so now it's even harder."
"Hold first with a pickoff, then go home? Or just let the second steal slide?"
"Exactly."
Batter three, Kim Han-seong, stood still at the plate. Bat on his shoulder, he looked utterly detached—like he was just spectating the runners' chess match with the defense. But his eyes flickered, deep in thought.
Thompson took a breath and fired. That's when first-base runner Gu Min-seok bolted. No hesitation.
But catcher Choi Woo-seong didn't rise. Wouldn't rise. No throw to second. It was a near-indifferent steal.
"Ah~ Look at that. The Gwangju Pigeons are choosing not to let this score here."
Lee Seo-jin jumped right in.
"But the Gocheok Turkeys aren't backing down. Runners loaded at second and third now. One hit away from two runs."
Before he finished, the screen showed things turning even uglier. Gu Min-seong didn't stop at second. He popped up and boldly widened his lead toward third. At the same time, Kim Hu-seong on third matched the distance.
"Huh?"
Lee Seo-jin reacted with surprise at the runners aggressively extending.
"Suspicious movement from the runners. This feels like the Eulji Crows. Coordinated, like they've got a plan. You rarely see both pushing that far at once—no dugout sign for that."
On the mound, Thompson and catcher Choi Woo-seong ping-ponged glances between the runners. Home, third, second. Their mental math was unraveling.
I'd seen the Eulji Crows pull something like this before. Lure them into a long hold at second, throw there, and the third runner bolts home. But everyone knows the counter: relay to the catcher, rundown the third runner, tag 'em out. No real threat there.
The point was pressure—forcing the pitcher and catcher to sweat, disrupting the at-bat. With one out, even a fly or grounder, I was scoring. As long as the batter didn't whiff.
Count was 1-and-1. They'd focus on us, so the count would balloon faster. Filling first was an option, but cleanup hitter Son Tae-ho was batting over .300 with a killer clutch average. No choice but to battle #3 hitter Kim Han-seong.
At minimum, we'd snag one run. Calculations set, I refocused.
Thompson went into his motion—and suddenly Kim Han-seong thrust the bat out.
Huh?
Bunt. Squeeze?
My heart dropped the second I spotted it.
No, shit!
Unforeseen. No time to hesitate. Instinct took over—I hurled toward home.
Thompson fielded in a panic and tossed home. Ball, me, catcher—all converging. Collision imminent.
I twisted mid-slide, angling my torso to dodge the direct tag. Felt the glove glance off. In that instant, I shot my hand out.
Scrape.
Fingertips grazed home plate. The retried tag came late. Umpire confirmed and spread his arms wide.
"Safe!"
"Whoa... That's just cruel. A squeeze here too?"
Lee Seo-jin nearly groaned it out, then added:
"Kim Han-seong's got speed too. Classic Turkeys play with quick feet through the order. Throwing to first would've whiffed. Home was the right call."
Pigeons catcher Choi Woo-seong stood helmetless, dazed. Lee Seo-jin piled on.
"Man... Gocheok Turkeys are a headache. Against the Eulji Crows, they wouldn't get away with this."
"Huh? So Turkeys are better at this stuff?"
"Bit of a team difference. Crows create that 'something's coming' vibe. Manager calls predictable vet plays—you can prep. Problem is they do it innings 1 through 9. Tiring to defend, but manageable."
"Ah, got it."
Then back to the Turkeys.
"Turkeys are different. Players judge on the fly. No script, so mistakes happen. See? Kim Hu-seong got caught off-guard. No bunt signal. He flinched, got a step late—but sensed it and bolted home."
Replay of Kim Hu-seong sliding home aired.
"From Choi Woo-seong's view, this is bullshit. Pigeons executed perfectly. They had the out timing. But! The runner twists his whole body on pure athleticism and scores. What're you supposed to do?"
"Feet that beat the tag even late, plus evasion savvy for the run."
"Exactly."
Meanwhile, safe at home, I exhaled in relief and stood.
Whew... Fuck... Thought I was dead...
No, a bunt there...?
Then it hit me.
Ah! That's why no heads-up means it's hard to sync...
I glanced toward third as I headed to the dugout.
Gotta treat hyung Min-seok right from now on. Tough gig...