Wild Card Game 2
Mid-October 2023. The Wild Card series had begun.
I was chatting with senior Son Tae-ho in one corner of the locker room before the game, talking about fall baseball.
"It might not be as big a deal as you think."
Most of the Turkeys players had experience from last season, when they'd finished third in the regular season, won the playoffs, and made it to the Korean Series. Because of that, they didn't have much advice to give—which actually felt more reassuring than a bunch of pep talks.
"But you've got no experience, so get a little nervous out there. Maybe that's what made some guys play well."
"Got it, sure."
The overall vibe in the locker room was the same. Plenty of guys who'd been through fall baseball before, so everyone stayed calm. It made me think this wasn't all that different from the regular season.
"There is one difference, though."
"What's that?"
"Regular season's long, so everyone paces themselves, saves energy a bit. But fall baseball? No tomorrow here. Lose today, you're done. So players hustle harder."
"Still, we should beat the Pigeons easy. We're ahead in the matchup… Wild Card means we just need one win, but they need two. That's pressure on them."
"That's why I'm a little scared. A do-or-die team's desperate and dangerous. Sure, usually fourth beats fifth, third beats fourth—that's the flow. But exceptions happen. Like us last year."
"Then let's sweep past them twice and hit the Korean Series again."
Son Tae-ho nodded approvingly at my confidence.
"That's the spirit. Oh, it's starting. Let's go."
Top of the first. Gwangju Pigeons batting first.
As I headed to my defensive position, I naturally glanced at the visitors' cheering section near third base. That's when I spotted cheerleader Kim Se-rin. Our eyes met, and she stuck out her tongue with a silly bleh face.
I nearly grinned but managed to twist it into an exasperated smirk. Inside, though, I couldn't help thinking she was cute.
No! You idiot! This is an important game!
I shook my head to clear the distraction and refocus. This was fall baseball—one slip could mean runs scoring.
Is she seriously using her wiles? Damn, that's lethal. Almost fell for it.
Luckily, the pitcher was winding up, snapping me back to full tension.
Gocheok Turkeys had Spencer, their ace, on the mound. Pigeons led off with Kang Do-yoon.
Thwack!
Shit! Spencer gave up a hit on the first pitch. Watching the ball sail into the outfield, I held my breath.
But it didn't end there.
Pop-pop-pop-pop!
Leadoff hitter Kang Do-yoon stole second on the next batter's first pitch. Catcher Jang Ha-jun fired to second quick, but it was late. Kang slid in safe.
Two straight steals, runner in scoring position just like that.
"Kang Do-yoon with the great baserunning. Turkeys got caught flat-footed. They weren't locked in yet, and he capitalized. If this turns into a run, it'll open things up for them."
Not easy, right? Pulling this off so quick?
I adjusted my glove, thinking it over. Postseason-level play. This was fall baseball, felt it from the jump.
The pitcher refocused on the batter. Number two, Lee Sang-hoon, a lefty. Spencer targeted low-outside; Lee pushed it instead of pulling.
Thud!
The ball hit the dirt hard, rolling slow toward short.
I bolted forward on instinct.
Our team's not the only sloppy ones.
I fielded and faked a big throw to first. Then, from the corner of my eye, saw the runner—Kang Do-yoon advancing to third, slowing, stepping off casually.
I whipped to third. Edison, our third baseman, looked confused at first but got it the second he caught it. He'd assumed safe at first and lifted his foot.
Edison stretched for the tag. The ump, watching me, punched him out.
"Out!"
The field's energy shifted instantly.
I felt like I was flying. A gamble, betting they'd slack like us. Worked, and the dopamine rush buzzed my brain.
Then—
"Kim Hu-seong, you fucking bastard!"
Huh? The Pigeons fans' fire in the third-base stands fizzled fast. Now they vented at me for the huge defensive play.
"Kim Hu-seong, you shitty prick!"
Oh! They say if the other team's fans curse you sincerely… it's high praise.
Dopamine flooded everywhere—not just my head. I floated on clouds. I gave them a V-sign and grinned at the visitors' section. Gotta show manners for the praise.
I caught my breath and returned to position. Hands shaky from the rush, but my mind sharper.
Now number three, Moon Tae-kyung. Another grounder, to second.
Nice! I covered second quick. Runner on first, one out—double play to end the inning.
Second baseman Kim Han-seong fielded clean, tossed perfectly. I caught and pivoted to first.
"Out!"
But then, runner Lee Sang-hoon barreled in like a tackle.
My eyes flicked to his foot, not first.
Trust the body.
I yanked my lower body left, twisted upper to throw to first. No clue if it was on target—eyes on him—but dodged the foot and fired.
Thwap!
"Out!"
Ball hit the mark—out at first. Beautiful double play.
Whew… fuck. I sighed in relief, stepping back. Direct hit could've wrecked me.
Heart pounding as I headed to the dugout.
Whew… shit… they play rough. That was dangerous.
Bottom of the first, our turn at bat. I felt that danger again right away.
Leadoff, my spot. Executing Plan A.
Screeech!
Shit! Their pitcher Thompson fired first-pitch heat right at my body. Nearly hit me.
I jerked back reflexively and glared at the ump.
Plunk!
Okay, game's on today. No brushing this off.
"That was way inside, right? If I'd stood still, it'd hit me."
The catcher snapped back sharp.
"Then take it and walk? Balls can come in. Wasn't aiming to hit you—gonna bitch about getting jammed?"
Pigeons catcher didn't hide his annoyance.
Damn, talks tough. Weak-minded guy might feel bad.
I didn't bite back. Just nodded like yeah yeah, playing it light. No winning a head-on clash. Vet catcher's playing his game—better mess with him my way.
Seemed like I backed down, but inside, I vowed not to lose the mental edge.
"Time! Whew, heart's racing."
Called time as he wound—disrupt Thompson's rhythm. Crucial.
Back in, scanned the field quick. Infield pulled in. Clicked.
No need for weak grounders or contact. Smash hard, get it through. Plan A scrapped.
Time called, Thompson aimed strike zone. I pounced.
Crack!
Clean contact. Lined straight at the mound, ricocheted off his plant foot high left.
Their short, shifting to second, froze—backpedaled desperately, too late.
Left fielder rushed in, but I was already at second, standing safe. No slide.
"Kim Hu-seong! Kim Hu-seong!"
Maybe from the boos earlier—Turkeys fans chanted my name loud.
I clenched a fist for them.
Ah~ easy peasy.