Center Field Debut and Clutch Hits
After the opening of the pro baseball season—my second game, thanks to beginner's luck—both teams trotted out their foreign aces as starters, just as expected.
—Here's today's starting lineup. Gwangju Pigeons...
And for the first time in my pro career, my name appeared on the starting lineup sheet. I'd mostly played infield in the minors, but making the big-league starting roster in the outfield? Center field, no less—the flower of the outfield positions. It was beyond anything I'd imagined, but now that the opportunity had arrived, I had to seize it with both hands. Steel yourself, I thought, and focused on the game ahead.
Thwack! In the top of the first, the batter's hit turned into a grounder. The infield handled it easily enough. With a solid shortstop and second baseman, they scooped up the next roller without breaking a sweat too.
Then trouble brewed when the opponent's cleanup hitter stepped up. Thwack!
"Hmm?"
A pop-up to center. It looked high enough that I instinctively crept forward. Then I saw it—the ball veering oddly mid-flight. Tough one...
That was the real lesson of pro defense: pitchers hurled high-level stuff, and batters met it with high-level swings. When elite power clashed, the ball sometimes spun with insane rotation, creating unpredictable trajectories. You couldn't practice that with fungo hits from the coaches.
And this was exactly that kind of ball. Damn. No clue where it'll drop.
I could see it, but predicting its path? Impossible. Did I misjudge? I bolted forward like a madman. Even if I had to dive, I needed to get a jump on it. Wait, am I going too far? In that split second, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. An experienced pro outfielder would've made the call instantly.
The ball had less oomph than it seemed. The shortstop and second baseman chased it up before abandoning the play. It wasn't carrying as far as expected. I had to sprint harder.
Screw it. If I miss, trust the guys behind me. A one-bounce catch is the same as clean. Right now, all I could show was my glove. Stability be damned. I launched into a full dive.
I have to get this.
Shhhwhoosh! Thud!
Grass scraped my body as I looked into my glove. Got it! The ball nestled safely inside.
Hah... close one.
I raised the ball from my glove for the umpire, then trudged back to the dugout.
"Whoa... did you see that?"
"Yes! Lee Seo-jin, our commentator. The center fielder came in strong and snagged it."
"Incredible. That ball hung in the air and then dropped like a stone. Even vets struggle with hits like that... Wow, what a play by Kim Hu-seong. I wondered if starting a rookie this soon was premature, but he just proved why."
"Was that defense really that impressive?"
"Absolutely. Personally... I think his glove is better than our starting center fielder Jeong Yi-hoon's already."
Bottom of the third, my turn came up leading off. Score still locked at 0-0. Both starters had surrendered hits but no runs.
As the leadoff man, my job was simple: get on base somehow. I repeated it like a mantra.
The opposing hurler was Gwangju Pigeons' foreign ace, Perez. He'd been mixing nasty fastballs and breaking stuff to dominate our lineup early.
Shhhreeek! Thwack!
"Strike."
The first pitch packed serious heat. If I swung now, it'd be foul at best. What to do...?
I stepped back, loosened up with a practice swing, and crunched the numbers in my head. Normally, I'd follow Coach Oh Tae-sik's advice—take two strikes and hunt. But not today. Time for plan B.
Leadoff perks it was. Perez wound up for his second pitch. I settled in, ready.
Shhhreeek! Another heater. The instant it left his hand, I dropped into bunt stance and poked the bat out. It tipped off lightly, squirting toward third.
The defense froze on the surprise bunt. Go, go, go! Tat-tat-tat!
The third baseman charged, barehanded it, and fired—but I'd been sprinting full tilt from the crack of the bat. Dirt propelled me as I dove headfirst for first.
"Third baseman snatches it barehanded and fires to first! That's out timing."
Thwack! Smack! The glove pop hit first, then my foot slapped the bag.
"Safe!"
Safe? I whipped my head around at the ump's call. The first baseman's disappointed grimace told the story.
"Nice one, Kim Hu-seong! First baseman's foot came off the bag."
The first base coach pumped his fist. I bumped it back, shed my gear, and handed it off.
"Man, a bunt there? Lucky the third baseman's throw was off—you nearly died. Watch it; that guy's got range."
Whew... luck again. But fine. On base was on base. No greed allowed.
"Wow... commentator, this is wild. Great defense, and he still beats it out."
"Yeah, messes with the third baseman's head. Throw was a hair off, but out timing. Scored a hit, anyway. Great battle of feet and gloves—worth the price of admission."
"Yesterday's game too. Keeps reminding me of someone, huh?"
"Hahaha. Kim Hu-seong's growing on me. Rare style these days... baseball comes full circle, haha."
Time flew to the bottom of the fifth, one out, my at-bat again. Score: 2-1, opponents. We'd scratched a run, but they had two.
"No. 9 hitter Kim Hu-seong up. Bunt single last time."
"Right. Defense faces a dilemma now—creep in anticipating another, or hold position?"
"What do you think, commentator?"
"As an ex-outfielder, mind games aren't my forte, but textbook is stay put and trust the range like before. But Gwangju's third baseman steps in."
"Oh! There he goes."
"Choice made. Let's see how it plays out. Grounder should be routine."
Shhreeeek! Thwack!
"Strike!"
Whoa, filthy curve—perfect. Zero-two count, but I'd have watched anyway. Timing wrecked.
Not easy now. Swing time.
Shhreeeek! Same pitch! Familiarity helped; I saw the track. Outer half! I crowded the plate, stretched the bat long, and slashed at the drop.
Thwack!
"Big bounce!"
My grounder skittered high off the dirt. Run first, judge later! Head anyway. I ditched the bat and hauled to first.
"Oh!!!! It's heading third base side!"
The bouncer veered toward the bag, bigger hop than expected, sailing behind it. The crept-in third baseman lunged forward, then backpedaled—but whiffed.
"Glove misses! He fields it clean, but the runner's safe at first!"
"Brutal. Happens all the time. Crept in after the bunt, but stays back and it's a routine out. Painful to watch."
"Nice, Kim Hu-seong! Infield knock—two hits already?"
The first base coach slapped my back heartily as I arrived.
"Haha..."
"Good swing."
I handed off gear and took my spot at first. Yes! Another hit! Pride swelled—until the skipper flashed a sign.
Huh? Steal signal. My legs needed again.
Seeing it scrambled my brain. Flashback to minors steal drills: "Stealing's all timing. Slow feet? Read the pitcher right and you're good."
Easier said. Lacking pro reps, I couldn't pick up pitcher habits or tells. The 'when' eluded me. This guy's new to Korea—scouting reports thin. I'd watched from first last at-bat, but still no feel.
Tsk... what now?