Powerlessness
Helplessness hung in the air during the final game of the midweek three-game series against the Eulji Crows. Bottom of the fourth, no outs, runner on first. The Crows' number-two hitter smashed the ball hard.
Crack!
"Batter makes contact!"
The ball sliced between shortstop and second base. Instinct kicked in—I reacted on pure reflex. It grazed the second-base bag and came rolling fast. I dropped my waist low, stretched out my glove, and snagged it. Then I made the call: throw to third.
"Kim Hu-seong with judgment beyond his rookie years. That was the right play—the runner on first got a quick jump. If the ball had rolled any faster and Hu-seong had been even a beat late, that runner would've slid into third."
But the runner who'd been halfway between second and third on the hit-and-run spun back on the third-base coach's signal and dove headfirst into second.
"Still, no outs, runners on first and second—a great spot for the Crows. Gocheok Turkeys dodged a bullet there. No outs, first and third would've been a whole different story."
The next batter stepped up—the Crows' number-three hitter.
Crack!
The ball rocketed toward third, a deep one but playable. Our third baseman, Lim Jae-min, dove and scooped it up.
Good—double play?
Lim popped up quick to tag third, but the runner from second was already tagging up and steaming toward the bag. No choice—Lim fired a hurried throw to first.
Pop!
"Oh! Errant throw! The first baseman had to leap—runners safe, batter safe! Bases loaded, no outs!"
Ah… shit.
My face twisted in frustration. Stuck in the outfield, all I could do was watch from afar—it was maddening.
"Eulji Crows are on fire. Another hit-and-run pays off—the first and second runners bolted before the swing. Normally, third could snag it, tag the bag, and fire to first for the double play, but the legs saved 'em all."
Sighs rippled from the stands. Just like that, the Crows seized momentum. They rattled us with their speed, our infield crumbling. It was the same story as the day before—shaken by their running game, we dropped the match.
And then the next at-bat. The Crows' cleanup hitter dug in. He pushed the first pitch.
Thwack!
"Batter pushes it! Deep fly—going way out!"
The ball streaked into left field, brushing past our left fielder and banging off the fence. The runner from third and second both raced home.
"Cut! Cut!"
I sprinted in as backup, tracking the ball. But the runners had already crossed the plate. Cheers erupted from the Crows' fans.
After the game, the locker room hung heavy with defeat. I kept my head down, packing my gear.
Haa… we got crushed. The vets had said no sweep—fat chance. And across the three games, I barely scraped hits: 12 at-bats, two singles. The hot streak against the Gwangju Pigeons had cooled off fast.
"Ah… why the hell am I so useless? Nah, this is probably my level, right? The Pigeons series was just luck."
The words slipped out. Then footsteps approached from the door.
"Hey, you brooding alone or what?"
Familiar voice—Son Tae-ho sunbae.
"Head up, kid. We lose as a team?"
"Ah… no, sir."
I looked up. Exhaustion etched his face.
"They were good. Played like shit? Fair enough—gotta own it. This team's at its limit right now."
It sounded like comfort, but laced with resignation, facing reality head-on. I just nodded, silent.
"Oh! But hey."
"Yes?"
"Why you always doing exactly what I say? Kinda pisses me off."
I blinked, confused.
"One hit yesterday, one today. I said get one a day, and boom—you do. Tell you to get two, you gonna deliver?"
His tone was half-joking, half-serious. I forced an awkward grin.
"That might be… tough? Two a day."
"Yeah, no kidding. You'd be hitting .500. Leading off, easy. Point is, you did your job. So quit moping—this one's on the vets."
Bad result, but acknowledgment I'd held up my end? Mixed feelings.
"Baseball's part personal stats too, right? So fuck—rest of 'em tanked it! Think like that and move on. I did good. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Everyone's pissed about the sweep. Can't be helped—their team's whole, we're half-assed."
He glanced back, sighed low, and shuffled off.
"Sigh, this season's gonna suck. How's he our third-best hitter…"
What?! Third-best? This team's utterly fucked…
How do I get better?
The sweep stung no matter what—three straight losses left a sour taste. Back home, even after a shower, my mood wouldn't lift. Phone said it was nearly dawn. Was that why sunbae sought me out? Felt like shit…
The three-game skid hit harder than expected. No way I'd sleep like this.
Mood tanked, I threw on a light hoodie and headed out. Late night—cool air, empty complex. Just walking to clear my head.
Then, rounding the alley corner, a familiar silhouette. Someone dragging a suitcase.
I knew instantly. No way…? Had to be Kim Se-rin cheerleader. But this late? Way past her usual wrap-up.
She hauled a massive case—bigger than the ones I'd seen. Up close, confirmed: exhaustion on her face, hair slightly mussed.
Seeing her worn out like that? My gloom vanished like a lie.
I approached cautiously. "Need a hand?"
She whipped her head around, eyes sharp—fatigue mixed with irritation.
"No need—"
Her gaze locked on me. Eyes widened, silence hung. Then a small sigh.
"Ah… it's you."
A faint smile tugged her lips. "Yeah, wiped out today."
She flicked her wrist, nudged the handle my way.
"Mind helping?"
I nodded fast. "Of course."
Grabbing it, the weight surprised me. Damn, heavier than it looks. Hard to believe she'd dragged this solo.
"This thing's heavy."
"Yeah, kinda. Just got back from Gwangju."
Oh! Right. I remembered I was an idiot. Kim Se-rin was Gwangju Pigeons cheerleader—obvious she'd have gigs there. Lots, probably.
"Game ran late—flying up right after? Isn't that exhausting?"
"It is. But tomorrow's against the Crows, and my schedule lines up. Not bad, though—I'm Seoul-based. Kill two birds, y'know? Tight, but home bed's a win."
"Ah… schedules are non-negotiable, huh?"
"Yep."
"Even popular cheerleaders grind hard."
"What? You didn't think we just book ourselves 'cause we're hot, did you?"
Her tone cooled a touch.
"No! I… don't know the cheerleader world at all…"
"Hm… got it. How's it over there?"
"Turkeys? Uh… saw one my age—maknae, seemed beat, hauling stuff."
"Pfft. Yeah, rookies get it rough. Fetching this, that."
Whoa… she laughed! Kim Se-rin's smile lit everything up—mesmerizing, just watching.
"Here already? Time flies."
Crap… Her building. Moment over too soon.
"Thanks for the haul. See ya."
"Yeah…"
"Hu-seong."
"Yes?"
"Quick tip—if you see cheerleaders, help out nice. We're popular, sure, but baseball's your show—we're side acts."
Ah…
"Truth is, cheerleaders get the short end. Even 'popular' me. No biggie. Lots of BS, though. So be good to us, okay?"
"Got it! Promise."
"Not saying hit on us—could get a girl fired. Clear?"
Her brows arched, warning light. Somehow, adorable.
"Crystal!"
"Good. Head in safe. And… see you around."
She gave a small wave and slipped inside.