Plan C: Breaking Bat in the Bottom of the Ninth
Bottom of the ninth, one out, runner on second. The score was 4-2, and if things went right, we could tie it up and reset the game. I stepped up to the plate.
Still, this at-bat felt promising. The opposing pitcher was Lee Yong-chan, the Gwangju Pigeons' closer, the kind who crushed hitters with his blazing fastball. And against a guy like that? I could handle it. Alright, just connect solidly on one fastball...
But my expectations shattered on the first pitch. A slider came in right away—one tossed loosely into the strike zone like it was meant to be hit. I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.
A fastball-dominant pitcher throwing a breaking ball first pitch to steal a strike? Ah... they're really gunning for me.
Shweeeek—pop! The second pitch was a slider too. I fought to hide my surprise and waited it out—thankfully, it missed the zone just enough for a ball. One ball, one strike.
I let out a long breath and reset my stance. Ah... he's probably sticking with sliders, huh? Just wait it out, and it'll be over. But I can't just stand here. Gotta do something. Next one... swing at the slider. If he keeps throwing them and I can't touch it, that's embarrassing. Only way is to adjust my timing.
And sure enough, another slider came flying in. Shweeeek...Eh...? In that instant, I felt like I could make contact and swung lightly. Thwack! The ball leaped off the bat, rocketing straight out.
For a split second, I thought it was gone and followed it with my head—only for it to curl agonizingly foul, just outside the line.
"Foul!"
"Tough break for Kim Hu-seong."
"That was pretty sharp. A bit more to the left, and it might've been a homer, but the direction was off."
I bit my lip and nodded. Disappointing... but not bad. Strangely, the feeling that I could hit it lingered.
Good. If I can recapture that sensation, one more solid connect...
And yep, the next pitch was another slider. Perfect! This time, I swung with full conviction. My body reacted, and up until the ball filled my vision, it was flawless. But then... my hands felt oddly loose, and in the next moment, the bat flew forward.
Eh...? For real—the bat snapped before even touching the ball. The handle stayed in my grip as the barrel sailed into the air.
I froze in my swing, blinking in shock. "...What the hell?"
"Wha—empty swing, strike three!"
Eh?
"Oh! The bat broke."
"The Eulji Crows had a guy snap one like that before. Wow, Kim Hu-seong got unlucky against the Pigeons' killer this time."
Strikeout. I trudged back, feeling wronged. This wasn't a whiff—it was the bat that betrayed me.
I glanced at the umpire, desperate to explain. But before I could open my mouth, he thrust his arm up decisively.
"Out."
His expression screamed, Get back quick. Don't drag this out.
I stared blankly at the broken handle, then hung my head and shuffled off, muttering, "This is bullshit..." One step, two steps toward the dugout.
The game against the Gwangju Pigeons ended in defeat, as expected. Back home, I sighed deeply as I walked in. I'd put on a brave face for the fans, but inside, I was wrecked.
Kim Se-rin the cheerleader had dragged me to a killer sushi spot on the way back, insisting I eat and unwind—it helped ease the stress a bit. But now, alone in my place, it all crashed back.
I tossed my bag aside and flopped onto the bed, trying to sort my thoughts. But one question looped endlessly: What can I do against that team—and others—going forward? If they all know I struggle with breaking balls...
No answers. So, I flipped on the TV to rewatch the just-finished game.
As expected from a popular team, the Pigeons' highlights dominated. It cut to interviews, and there was their catcher, Choi Woo-sung, mic in hand. I gripped the remote and listened quietly.
Then Lee Seo-jin the commentator chimed in. "You had a triple off Kim Hu-seong today, plus a few homer-foul balls... Does that mean you're not quite ready for him yet?"
A leading question. I stared holes through the screen, hoping for any scrap of intel, hanging on every word.
Choi Woo-sung shook his head firmly. "Nah. We can handle Kim Hu-seong now. That triple? Honestly, he got lucky."
But the real kicker came next. "From here on, we're the ones killing Kim Hu-seong—not the other way around. We've got him figured out. Truth is... he's starting to feel easy."
As he said it, Choi Woo-sung smirked just a touch. The perfect infuriating grin, oozing cockiness even through the screen. Like he was telling me, You're nothing now.
"Fuck..." The curse slipped out naturally.
They had me pegged—no moves left. I gritted my teeth and looked away from the TV, grabbing a cup and filling it with cool water from the purifier. The chill soothed my throat, but the fire in my chest raged on.
The broadcast shifted back to highlights. Then a line from Lee Seo-jin hooked me.
At first, I figured it was standard breakdown. But his words hit with eerie precision.
"Kim Hu-seong definitely has something wrong with his leg."
"Huh? He just ripped a triple."
The caster sounded surprised, but Lee Seo-jin pressed on calmly. "Yeah. Whether it's his hamstring or that wildcard injury, you can see it—he's not starting or sprinting right early on. Tags up slow, no steals lately, no infield defense. It all adds up."
I set my cup in the sink and hurried back to the TV. Half my hidden secret, the one I thought was safe, just got blasted wide open.
A long sigh escaped. "Haa... mountain after mountain."
The puzzle I'd guarded was unraveling. Sure, insiders might suspect, but still...
"His switch-hitting makes sense now too. Going righty for mid-to-long power? Probably can't use his speed aggressively anymore. That's why he ditched lefty—a slow lefty on first is automatic out. Or if he shows left, they'll just IBB him since he's not a base threat."
I bowed my head unconsciously. Spot on. All of it. That's why the hitting coach banned lefty swings. Better to look like a hittable guy.
And Lee Seo-jin dove right into my next secret. "But his hitting's got issues too. Solid against fastballs, but breaking stuff? Classic weakness. The Pigeons sniffed it out."
"Ah! That's why they fed him breakers in his at-bats."
"Exactly. They attacked with them heavy, and it worked."
I watched my bat whiff at that slider on screen and bit my lip.
"Kim Hu-seong fought back, flailing at least—and nabbed that triple. I think that's his path forward. Better to swing and pop out than stand there for strike three."
His path forward. The phrase stuck.
"You really have him dialed in. Any other quirks?"
The caster prompted, and Lee Seo-jin paused thoughtfully. "Ah! He's no longer the first-inning demon. Used to dominate early, fade late... now it's reversed. Weak start, builds as innings progress."
Builds?
"Some closers throw heat, sure, but Kim Hu-seong's like a slow starter now—normal player from the fifth on."
Chills ran down my spine. Wait... so once it's digested, I perform? Yeah, condition peaks after the seventh. And in the ninth, before the bat snapped, that foul homer off the slider—I felt like I could hit breakers.
Hold up... if I cut back a little on bulking, maintain this intake—could I be solid from the third at-bat? Handle breakers too?
I pieced together Lee Seo-jin's two insights. From now on: eat lighter to pull peak condition earlier, swing at everything—breakers included—no matter strikeout or flyout. Flyout beats looking.
Yeah. Let's try that.