Scout's Eyes on the Defensive Sub's Miracle Play
Major league-caliber play. Gocheok Turkeys scout Go Myeong-jin stood there with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the mound. The moment Lee Tae-sin's pitch slammed into the catcher's mitt, his gaze sharpened. It was a ball, but a damn good one.
"Ah... Tae-sin's not quite on his game today, huh? Walking a batter with that? Control off?" the reporter said with regret, but Go Myeong-jin shook his head inwardly.
Not off at all. He's just attacking the inside corner, that's why. One ball's difference from a strike. That's what good control lets you do—take those gambles. Impressive as hell.
That's how Go Myeong-jin sized up Lee Tae-sin. He respected the guy's guts for stabbing the inside so boldly.
Pro-level already. Wonder if we can snag him.
Muttering to himself, he jotted a note in his pad next to Lee Tae-sin's name: must-have prospect, checking it twice. He'd seen the kid multiple times already, and his conviction was growing.
Then the next batter stepped up—a sub, face unfamiliar. Go Myeong-jin tilted his head and asked the reporter beside him.
"Who's that guy?"
The reporter flipped through his notes. "Senior, but not a regular starter. Mostly a defensive replacement, like just now."
"Defensive sub? As a senior?"
"Yeah... batting .100. That explains it."
Go Myeong-jin's face went blank.
.100? As a senior this late in the season? Tough sell. Defense only gets you so far.
Seoul Botong High School 3rd year: Kim Hu-seong. Defensive replacement outfielder?
"Not many games under his belt either. Pure defensive sub."
"In high school baseball?"
"Well... coach uses him that way."
In his career scouting countless players, this was rare.
Come on... .100 average? Basically worthless.
Go Myeong-jin shook his head and snapped his notebook shut.
No need to even record a guy like that.
He turned back to the mound, etching Lee Tae-sin's delivery into his memory.
Alright, let's see how he toys with this .100 hitter.
But the result was anything but expected.
Hoo...
Go Myeong-jin watched the field with keen interest. That's sports for you. Variables pop up in near-certainties. Even a .100 hitter can slap a hit off a 0.00 ERA arm. That's baseball.
Technically pushed it? Luck? Either way, solid contact. Suseok High just got stung.
The Gocheok Turkeys scout flipped open his notebook again and scribbled.
I'm going nuts! Seriously. I was ready to quit baseball, and now this?
Thankfully, Lee Tae-sin showed no mercy after that, fanning my two teammates behind me. Eighth-inning bottom ended with three strikeouts.
"Hu-seong, how'd you even touch Tae-sin's stuff?"
"Whatever it was, thanks to you we tied it up. Gave us a shot."
Back in the dugout, they were buzzing about my at-bat.
"Just luck. Like I could plan that."
"Luck's skill too! C'mon, spill—how'd you do it? Insane."
"Pure sweet spot contact. Nuts, Hu-seong."
I was about to brush it off when the coach called me.
"Kim Hu-seong."
"Yes, Coach!"
Ah, yeah—praise time.
"Dae-sung, the runner on first, twisted his ankle sliding home."
What? So...
"Ninth bottom, you're shortstop instead of center."
Sigh...
"Got it."
I swapped my outfield glove for infield and headed to short. Irritation flared as I changed, but then my head spun with realization.
No— this is good! Shortstop over center means... errors look more natural.
A bit more thought, and I saw the upside. Infield sees way more action than outfield, higher error odds. One misplay could flip the game. Bobble it, bad throw—perfect.
One error, and we're golden. But one issue nagged.
I eyed Lee Su-creang back on the mound.
No reliable arms, so Su-creang's pitching the ninth too. Poor guy—shoulder's toast. Coach, really... starter for nine innings.
Still, Su-creang, you'll land somewhere. College team at least, right? Not me, though.
Suseok's leadoff hitter stepped in—no, their #2, pesky with speed and bunting smarts.
Whiiip! Pop!
Board lit 142 km/h. Wow, still got gas?
Lee Su-creang's pitches traced perfect arcs, striking out Suseok's leadoff in the ninth top.
Oof... but now it's tough. One out, but their top of the order looms: 3-4-5, the guys who tagged him for three earlier.
I toed the dirt, smacked my glove—signal to focus the fielders. But not my plan.
And right on cue.
Thwack!
"Drops in front of left field. Botong High runner safe."
#3 crushed a fastball—clean left single, not my way.
Runner on first, I closed my eyes, then opened them.
Perfect.
Next, their #4 cleanup—the ace hitter.
Whiiiip! Thwack!
"Batter connects! Lining deep!"
He tossed the bat casually, jogging first—like he knew. Gone!
Yes! Huge! Massive!!
I gawked at the ball too.
Thud!
"Oh! Hits the fence and bounces back! Runner holds at third, batter rounds second then scrambles back."
Idiot! Tag it or take second at least. Damn... why watch and late trot? Rookie mistake!
Almost 1-out, 2nd and 3rd. Their cocky play steamed me, but silver lining: 1-out, 1st and 3rd. Not bad. No error from me yet.
One misplay now ends it. Bad throw for tie at least. Smart error, maybe the win. Tae-sin closes the bottom.
Suseok's #5 stepped up. Righty, so we shifted defense left a hair.
Whiiip! Thwack!
"Foul!"
Inside pitch, big foul. Whew, nasty. One more like that. Even outfield fly ties it—they'll give that much.
Hope bloomed.
Whiiiip! Crack!
#5 connected. Ball trickled hard left of me—between second and short, speedy grounder.
Yes!
Too hot for center even if I bobble—single at worst. But glove it wrong, roll to gap? First-base runner scores easy.
I dove toward it, faking the scoop to push it away.
Plop!
Uh?
Bad hop, ricochets off glove top—straight to covering second baseman.
Pop!
"Out!"
"First!!!"
Lee Su-creang bellowed. Second grabbed and fired.
Pop!
"Out!"
First-base ump pumped his fist. Botong dugout erupted.
"Yesssss!"
"Niiice!"
"We won!!"
Nooooooo!