I'll Hate Phoenix Forever
I'll hate Phoenix forever. There's still work to be done.
Standing on second, I put on an exaggerated show on purpose. I glared at the pitcher, throwing him a look like I was reading his every move. The Phoenix ace, Thompson, froze for a moment under my stare. He fiddled with the ball in his right hand over and over. He took a deep breath, then another, and finally got set to pitch. But something was off. Thompson lifted his leg, then put it down. Lifted it again, put it down again. A blatant balk.
What the...? The second I tilted my head in confusion, the umpire's arm shot up.
"Pitcher's balk."
Ah? This was... an intentional balk. Thompson gestured toward third while looking right at me. The second base ump nodded like he'd caught on immediately and waved me to third.
Ah... He was balking me to third on purpose? I made a disappointed face and slowly stepped on third base. A weird feeling washed over me. This was deliberate. Like issuing an intentional walk to a dangerous hitter—he saw me as too much of a threat on second and shipped me to third.
It felt good to be recognized as that intimidating a runner, but at the same time, didn't having me on third pose an even bigger risk? Why balk me there intentionally?
"Boooooo."
"Kim Hu-seong, you bastard~!"
Jeers erupted from the third-base stands. Raw dissatisfaction from the Phoenix fans. My play was a thorn in their side.
Ha~ Guess they didn't see me last time? I'd been thrilled to reach third and catch a glimpse of Kim Se-rin the cheerleader, but these boos fired up something hot inside me. Wanna turn that section back into a library?
I just wanted a peaceful game. But the opposing fans kept provoking me. Fine, if they hated me this much, I'd give them more reasons.
I ducked my head, caught my breath, then eyed the pitcher again. Thompson had his glove on his shoulder, blowing on his hands to check their feel. Now's the time. I stepped toward home oh-so-casually, like nothing was up. One step, another—like a stroll around the neighborhood.
"Here!"
Halfway there, a loud voice rang out, and I bolted. Pabababak!
Catcher Choi Woo-sung sensed it first. He yelled "Here!" and charged out. Thompson reacted on instinct, yanking the ball from his glove and firing to home. His glove slipped off his shoulder, but that didn't matter now.
In that split second, Gu Min-seok backed out of the box the moment the catcher lunged, clearing space for me. No words needed—perfect sync. I dove through the gap and slid into home.
Pat! My hand hit the plate, and a tag slapped my back almost simultaneously. Clear as day. Safe.
"Out!"
But the ump signaled out. Cheers and groans mixed from the stands. No way—that's out? Players know. Who won. I didn't get up, just twisted to look at our dugout and drew a box in the air with my hand. Video review request.
Manager Kim Young-ho reacted instantly, storming out to demand it.
"Alright... Kim Hu-seong has requested a video review. Let's see..."
The umps huddled for the review as slow-mo replay rolled on the screen. Frame by frame, tension choking the air. Finally, it was clear.
"This one's... fast."
"Yes. Kim Hu-seong got there first."
The calling ump changed his gesture. Safe. Call overturned. The visitor's side froze; home fans exploded.
"Kim Hu-seong~! Kim Hu-seong~!"
"The Gocheok Turkeys take the early lead! Devil of the first inning Kim Hu-seong scores in the first in the postseason too."
"Kim Hu-seong shows the pinnacle of speed-stealing. Successful stolen home. He'd never gone that far before... Attempting it in the postseason? And pulling it off. Confirms why he's the hottest player right now."
"And Kim Hu-seong proves he's strong in the fall too."
"That's right!"
Top of the third, one out. Score: Turkeys up 2-0. Cleanup hitter Mun Tae-gyeong at the plate, leadoff Kang Do-yoon on first. I shifted a few steps toward second, eyes flicking between runner and batter, tension high.
The nerves came from that close call in the first. After the inning, second baseman Kim Han-seong hyung had warned me quick: Postseason infielders play way dirtier. No polite headfirst slides like regular season—they dive for the out. They target the fielder, not the bag. Could get seriously hurt, so watch it. He'd stressed it multiple times.
"Stay focused, got it?"
I said yeah, but knew it wasn't that easy to dodge. Still worried me.
Then—Thwack!
"Batter taps it."
A crisp grounder rolled toward second—not too fast, not slow. Tricky. I stamped second reflexively for the double-play pivot. As my foot hit the bag perfectly, Kim Han-seong snagged it and tossed my way. I sidestepped slightly, caught it, and leaned away to fire safely to first.
But...
"Second to short."
"Short... "
The angle Kang Do-yoon charged from was all wrong. My body cleared the bag toward the outfield, but he barreled straight at me, not the base.
Ah. These fuckers... coming at me full-on.
Time slowed like slo-mo. I was airborne, feet off the ground. No dodging. Collision incoming. Fine... I'll throw anyway. I gritted my teeth, stretched my arm full, and fired to first.
The ball left my hand—and their foot slammed my lower body.
Thud! Impact rocked me mid-air. Their cleat clipped my leg; I lost balance and crashed forward.
Thump!
Pain stabbed my left knee.
"Out at second. Out at first too!"
"But... collision at second. Between Kim Hu-seong and Kang Do-yoon..."
Serious tone: Could be a major injury right there.
Pain hit a beat late—not stabbing, but shattering from inside. I curled up instinctively, but it didn't fade.
"Urghhh..."
Murmurs from the stands mixed with shouts from our dugout. Vision blurred; pain intensified.
I opened my eyes to a new scene. Faint antiseptic smell, white ceiling. Hospital. IV drip in my arm pumping painkillers; my knee throbbed dully instead of screaming.
"Uh..."
"You okay?"
A woman's voice. Nurse.
"Yeah..."
Clarity returned.
"Hu-seong, you alright?"
The first-team manager sat by the bed. He'd been on his phone, sighed in relief when I woke.
"With it now?"
I nodded.
"Phew... Good. Club folks are coming soon. Game's over."
"Huh? Already...?"
Then the door burst open—teammates and staff flooded in.
"Hu-seong, you good?"
Son Tae-ho hyung first.
"Dunno..."
Eyes turned to the manager.
"Tests done. Not career-ending or anything. Waiting on results to decide surgery or rehab for the knee."
"...? I already got checked?"
"Yeah. Don't remember? Meds must've wiped it."
...Did I? No memory, but if he said so...
"Uh... Relieved, then."
I looked back at Son Tae-ho hyung.
"How'd the game go?"
He hesitated, then flat: "Lost."
Ah... that? I frowned.
"Why? We should've won."
"You get carted off injured, Spencer beans next batter Park Se-ho in the head. Ace ejected. Our import fires up like that, we can't sit quiet. Do-yoon gets revenge—clips their second baseman's shin during our attack. Bench-clearing brawl. Game turned to chaos, and we lost."
"...So? Phoenix lose any?"
"Told you. Two carted off."
"Heh. Only me to the hospital—we win that round?"
I knew I shouldn't laugh, but it bubbled up. He nodded.
"Yeah. But we'll win the next. Don't worry."
"Haha, got it. I believe you."
A staffer approached cautiously.
"Kim Hu-seong, fans are flooding support posts. They're worried—got a message for them?"
Hm... Marketing?
I thought, then: "Yeah... Post 'I'll hate Phoenix forever.'"
"Pfft."
"Heh heh heh."
Laughter erupted in the room. Original source Jeong Ui-hoon slunk to the corner, cracking up quietly. I kept a straight face.
"And staff—I'm dead serious. If you try trading me to Phoenix, warn me first. I'll storm the GM's office and kick his desk to splinters."
Even the staff lost it. The room lightened up big time.