Help Me Out, Knee! Foul After Foul!
Help me out, knee—thud. Foul ball again!
Standing at the plate, I kept nudging the ball with light taps. I sliced at pitches zipping past, forcing cuts, and flicked my wrist just enough on inside-zone balls to push them foul. Gwangju Pigeons' third starter, Im Jong-hyeon, looked unfazed on the surface. His expression stayed calm, his motions leisurely. But the way he adjusted his cap grew quicker by the second. He was trying his best not to show it, but he was boiling inside. Still, like a veteran, he kept his temper from spiking too high.
I knew it and dragged out my cuts even slower, more annoyingly. Thud! He nudged it just a bit—foul again! Kim Hu-seong easily fouling off up to the sixth pitch. The count's still no balls, two strikes.
'Haa... is it right to keep throwing like this?'
After the sixth pitch got fouled off, Im Jong-hyeon finally let out the tiniest sigh.
'Or should I try something else?'
Then a calculation flashed across his face.
'Hmm, maybe just give him first? I'm throwing too many pitches already in the first inning...'
That sparked a question.
'What if Kim Hu-seong can't steal?'
Im Jong-hyeon quickly reached his own conclusion. He'd remembered that the Kim Hu-seong he was facing hadn't stolen a base recently. In other words, putting him on first right now might not be a bad idea. It was a perfect excuse to test his leg condition. After some deliberation, Im Jong-hyeon settled into his set position, and catcher Choi Woo-seong flashed a sign.
Im Jong-hyeon shook his head. Once, twice. He kept shaking it through the signs, and Choi Woo-seong's eyebrow twitched up slightly.
Shake, shake.
'This one too?'
Choi Woo-seong tilted his head.
'Then what're you throwing?'
Running through the few signs left, he recalled the final option.
'No way he wants that?'
His mask trembled for a split second. But conviction soon set in that it was the safest bet, so Choi Woo-seong cautiously signed it again. This time, Im Jong-hyeon nodded.
Choi Woo-seong sighed softly, nodded back, and stood. He raised his hand toward the umpire.
Intentional walk.
"Intentional walk?"
"Yes."
Ah... what a shame.
I lowered the bat from my shoulder. No more need to cut now. Im Jong-hyeon bowed his head on the mound for a deep breath, then took the ball without looking my way. I quickly handed off my gear and strolled slowly to first. No rushing out.
The moment I reached first, I caught my breath and scanned the field carefully. Pitcher, shortstop, second baseman, first baseman, and even the distant third baseman—all in standard defensive spots. It felt like they saw me as just another runner.
So what should I do? Yeah, they'll catch on soon enough... but I can fool 'em once.
Just drawing their eyes was enough to rattle them, I could feel it. I gradually widened my lead. Looking every bit the guy gunning for a steal. Their gazes locked on me. Faces subtly stiffening. And the ripple spread to the starter, Im Jong-hyeon. His poker face cracked.
It had been blank a moment ago, but after I widened my lead twice, he flinched—visibly. Glancing at the catcher, then whipping his head toward first.
I smirked inwardly. Heh. Can't run anyway, but just the threat's got 'em shaking like this.
The infield reacted instantly. Second baseman stepped forward and closer to the bag; shortstop shifted to cover second. First baseman glued himself to the base to field any pickoff properly.
—Ooh, Kim Hu-seong's showing steal signs?
—Looks like it. Pigeons players clocked it right away—shifting their defense.
And that's when Turkeys' number-two hitter, Kim Han-seong, exploited the gap. Im Jong-hyeon, distracted, threw a pitch that tailed in just a bit, and Kim Han-seong yanked it.
Crack!
—Batter pulls it! Ball heading right field.
The hit echoed, and I bolted on instinct. Not like before, but ramping speed toward second. My head flicked right—right fielder faking a catch motion. My body nearly froze. Did he snag it? No, wait!
I glanced at third-base coach. His arm kept circling. Keep going!
I poured on more speed, rounding wide to tag the bag.
—Hits the wall low, ball rolling out!
Sure enough, the right fielder's move was a fake. As third neared, I slid. Dust exploded; the ball flew in, third baseman's glove grazing my back. The tag sensation hit sharp and clear.
Whew. Hesitated even a beat, and I'd be out.
Heart sank recalling it. But standing, I had to admit it—we'd made man on first, runner on third, no outs.
Still felt undigested; early acceleration was definitely slower. Back in the day, that tag timing wouldn't have even been close.
I stretched my legs on the base, thinking. Can't just run flat-out anymore. Not my old body.
Wonder what they'll do now?
Then number three, Hwang Do-yoon, ripped a clean single. Ball streaking to the outfield—I bolted home from third. Relay booth erupted with commentator Lee Seo-jin's voice.
—Ah! Im Jong-hyeon's rattled just like that. Felt like Gwangju Pigeons had the momentum, but Kim Hu-seong straight-up disrupting? They're wobbling hard.
The flow solidified after. Next batter Son Tae-ho singled too, and Kim Han-seong crossed home. Im Jong-hyeon shook his head on the mound, sighing faintly.
But not crumbling here—that's veteran grit. He gritted his teeth, induced a grounder double play from number five Edison low in the zone, then flied out Hong Yu-chan to barely end the top of the first.
Back in the dugout, Pigeons pitching coach approached immediately. Displeasure plain on his face.
"What the hell was that?"
Im Jong-hyeon was straightforward. "Got shaken by Kim Hu-seong. Didn't expect a lefty... and thought he might steal, so I split focus, and..."
The coach sighed, reining in his frustration with a pat on the shoulder. "Shake it off next time. We held 'em, at least."
Im Jong-hyeon nodded, then suddenly looked up. The scene replayed in his head.
"But... was Kim Hu-seong fast?"
Coach narrowed his eyes; Im Jong-hyeon added quickly. "We need to know if those legs are for real. Makes the back end easier. Mess up, and other pitchers get torched the same."
Coach pondered, then nodded toward the outfield. "Right fielder Platoon faked once, and Kim flinched. Kinda ambiguous? Couldn't call it fast or slow for sure."
Im Jong-hyeon's gaze hardened. He sipped from his bottle and said firmly. "We gotta know. I'll check again. We gave up runs this inning anyway... might as well scout the wheels."
Coach didn't argue. Just nodded curtly. "Fine. Confirm it."
Im Jong-hyeon nodded back.
Top of the third, two outs. My turn coming up felt off from the moment I stepped in. Pitcher and catcher exchanged signs quick—no lingering. Then boom, automatic intentional walk.
Huh?
I lowered the bat in disbelief, strolling to first as the crowd murmured and dugout chatter buzzed. On the bag, scanning around—the vibe was weird. Infield tensed like checking me at first, but loosened before I even led off. Shortstop eased back a step, second stayed at odd distance. Pitcher eyed without committing to a pickoff.
I clocked it instantly. These bastards... testing me.
Gonna figure it out for sure this time. If my legs were legit or just a bluff.
I swallowed hard. Knew exactly what to do.
Can't half-ass the lead. Gotta sell it.
Turn the fake into truth. I clenched my teeth.
Just once... one time's enough.
And inwardly, I pleaded with my knee.
Knee, help me out just this once?