The .100 Hitter vs. the 0.xx ERA Ace
A .100 hitter versus a sub-1.00 ERA pitcher. Arrrgh! A first-year pitcher, no less. Sure, it was only the eighth inning, so the closer Lee Tae-sin might not come in. But why a freshman? A wave of unease started to creep over me.
Bottom of the eighth. Botong High's number-three hitter, Gu Seong-uk, stepped up against Suseok High's pitcher Kim Hyeon-gu. The first-year Kim Hyeon-gu fired a fastball at Gu Seong-uk.
Thwack! He fouled off the first pitch. But the ball had caught too much of the plate, and Gu Seong-uk pulled it cleanly for a sharp single to left field.
Thwack! The next batter followed with a liner dropping in front of center field for another hit. Just like that, runners were on first and second. Botong High had seized the momentum. It probably started with that sliding catch by the center fielder earlier—the vibe had shifted. Sure enough, a sense of possibility was buzzing in Botong High's dugout.
"Nice!"
"Yeah!"
"We got this!"
Ah... what the hell is with these kids' energy... Even from the on-deck circle, I could hear the cheers echoing from the dugout. Damn it...
Thwack!
— He hit it! Botong High finally plates their first run! And the third batter rips another infield single. The scoreboard now reads 1-3—Botong High scratches across a run.
Damn. What the hell is this? If we lose today, I can finally quit baseball... No way we're actually winning this, right? Maybe sensing the chill, Suseok High's bench erupted in frantic activity. Their manager climbed the mound, pondered for a moment, and made the call.
— Oh! With Suseok High in crisis, Lee Tae-sin takes the mound to save them. The moment the bullpen-warming closer, Lee Tae-sin, started walking out, I let out a quiet chuckle. Perfect. Now we're definitely losing. A sub-1.00 ERA stud with 150+ km/h heat and nasty breaking stuff had arrived. Botong High's number-six hitter, Na Hyeon-jin, faced him first. He threw.
Whoosh!
Pop! "Ball!"
Huh?
Pop! "Ball!"
But contrary to expectations, Lee Tae-sin looked shaky early on.
Shrieeek!
Pop! "Ball!"
What the hell are you doing, Lee Tae-sin? Three balls already! He kept missing deep into the hitter's body side, unable to snag strikes.
Whoosh!
Pop! "Ball! Full count walk!"
After pounding the zone with inside pitches, he ended up walking the first batter on a full-count battle. Damn... now it's bases loaded, no outs. Are you insane?!
But luckily, Lee Tae-sin struck out the number-seven hitter. And now, my at-bat was up. One out, bases loaded. I stepped into the box slowly.
...
I never really planned to make a career out of baseball. It started because my parents nagged me endlessly about studying, so I looked for a path that didn't require it. Somehow, I ended up playing baseball from middle school and stuck with it. Sure, it was an escape, and starting in eighth grade meant I was a year or two behind the others—my skills suffered for it.
But that's why I spent all three years of middle school drilling the fundamentals without chasing flashy stuff. I even chose a low-level high school like Seoul Botong High where I'd actually get playing time. But... I never imagined coming here would turn into my worst nightmare.
As a freshman, cleanup duty was par for the course. Unless you're overwhelmingly better than the upperclassmen, you don't play—that's normal. If you're even, they give it to the seniors. The problem started in my sophomore year.
"Kim Hu-seong. We've got too many right-handed bats on the team. Your average is low anyway... how about switching to lefty? Right throw, left bat. It's all the rage these days, right?"
Huh? Switch to lefty as a sophomore? I said I needed time to think. Coach warned that refusing might mean no more game appearances. What was I supposed to say, "Nah, I don't wanna?" My average wasn't great anyway, so I agreed to try lefty. What happened? My mid-.200s average tanked to .100 territory.
Then Coach had another demand. "Hmm... average too low. Can't start you like this. If you want to play, specialize in defense. You're mostly infield now, right? Start practicing outfield too."
So what if I added outfield? No—"outfield too." I'd already been training across first to third because my bat was weak. Adding outfield meant insane daily schedules. After morning classes, scarf down lunch like it was water, then beat everyone to stretching, weights, and conditioning. Right after conditioning, infield drills, then outfield drills. The other guys focused on one spot. I burned twice the energy and focus across everywhere. By evening batting practice, I was wrecked—how could my hitting improve?
But I did it all without complaint. And yeah, from the second half of sophomore year, Coach started subbing me in for late defense. Sounds good, right? Except he kept doing it right up to the end of senior year. Train like a dog, but never in the starting lineup. Isn't that total bullshit?
And even in what might be my last game ever today, I wasn't starting. So yeah, I'm thrilled. Time to quit this cursed crap.
— One out, bases loaded. Now number-eight hitter Kim Hu-seong steps in. Kim came in for center field last inning and flashed some amazing defense.
I loosened up in the box, glaring at Lee Tae-sin. Alright, time to end this.
* * *
Bottom of the eighth. One out, bases loaded. Score: 1-3, just two runs back. A hit here ties it; a big one wins it. But I have zero intention of getting a hit. My plan: ground into a easy double play—second or short—to kill the inning.
Lee Tae-sin glared daggers from the mound, oblivious. Why stare like you wanna murder me? I'm already dying for you. Just like always—ground out, done. No sweat. A .100 hitter versus a sub-1.00 ERA ace. You don't even need to try; it's a win. Even if I square it up, it finds a glove. No one helps end innings like me.
Lee Tae-sin nodded—he'd picked his pitch. Yeah, fire away.
Shrieeeek!
Pop! "Strike!"
The ball zipped past in a flash. I glanced at the radar gun: 151 km/h. Whoa... shit, that's filthy fast. I eyed the runner on first. You walked 'cause you couldn't hit it, huh? Next guy too. Different level.
— Kim Hu-seong watches Lee Tae-sin's pitch. 151 km/h. A perfect four-seam fastball tailing off the plate away.
Yeah, whiffing into a K wouldn't suck. But double play's cleaner. Double play. Double play. Double play. Double play!
Lee Tae-sin went into set from the mound and fired again.
Whoosh!
That instant, a feeling hit me. I could square this one up. Here it comes! Ground ball city.
Thwack!
Huh?
— Kim Hu-seong makes contact! Technical swing! Fair ball! The ball rolls down the third-base line!
Kim's grounder trickles toward the corner. No way! I sprinted to first anyway.
"Run it out! Run!"
Damn it... keep going? I kept running, slid into second. Then watched helplessly as the runners scored.
"Third-base runner! Second-base runner! Even the first-base runner crosses the plate! Batter to second! Seoul Botong High pulls off the comeback! Kim Hu-seong of Seoul Botong High topples Lee Tae-sin of Seoul Suseok High!"
No... this can't happen. Normally, my squares find gloves... My hands stung, so I rubbed my palms. Damn, a lucky infield single? I was pulling for second or short, but it pushed foul and died on the line. Head spinning, Coach approached for my gear.
"Hu-seong, great job. Man... how'd you tag Lee Tae-sin's heat like that?"
"Just got lucky."
"Quit the humble act. Not many guys have smacked his stuff. That hit might've just busted his sub-1.00 ERA."
"Nah, no way."
I handed over the gear. "Anyway, seriously well done. You drove it right up the line."
No. I didn't aim for that. Luck screwed me hard. Coach took the gear and headed back; I shot Lee Tae-sin a resentful glare.