First Start in the Phoenix Tournament
The locker room at Sinwol Stadium buzzed with a strange tension during the Phoenix Tournament round of 32. It was a single-elimination game where everything hung in the balance. The Seoul Botong High School players waited at their spots, anticipating the manager's lineup announcement. Coach Kang Dae-man, having finished writing the lineup card, slowly rose from his seat, holding the order sheet in hand. All eyes turned to him.
"Alright. Now for today's starting lineup."
His deep voice made the players' eyes sparkle. Coach Kang calmly called out the names one by one.
"Number 1, right fielder Park Do-yun. Number 2, shortstop Jeong Min-ho. Number 3, pitcher Lee Su-creang. Number 4, first baseman Han Ji-hoon."
Whew...
"Number 5, left fielder Choi Sang-hyuk. Number 6, third baseman Oh Jun-young."
Whew...
"Number 7, second baseman Shin Tae-woo. Number 8, catcher Kang Min-seok."
Not yet...? No? Wait, maybe...?
And finally, after a brief pause to catch his breath, the coach looked up from the order sheet and said,
"Number 9, center fielder... Kim Hu-seong."
The moment he'd been waiting for had arrived. His heart sank with a thud, then began pounding fiercely. Finally making the starting lineup. And on the Phoenix Tournament stage, no less—it was hard to believe. His whole body felt light, like it was floating. A smile threatened to spread across his face involuntarily.
Can't get too excited. Gotta hold it in. Can't act like this just because they put me in the starting lineup once.
Coach Kang gave a brief tactical briefing. Since the opponent was such a strong team, the strategy boiled down to having Lee Su-creang hold them off while the rest scraped together one run to win.
"That's it. Let's do this. Go get 'em."
As the coach finished, the players nodded in unison and rose from their seats.
Thud.Huh?
"Finally starting, huh? Do your part today, alright?"
The coach lightly patted his shoulder and spoke softly. It wasn't just the coach. The third-years, led by Lee Su-creang, quietly tapped him as they passed, offering silent encouragement.
As they exited the locker room, the noise from the end of the corridor grew louder. Stepping through Sinwol Stadium's narrow passageway, the field burst into view under the blazing sunlight. The green grass under the blue sky and the packed narrow stands made Kim Hu-seong's chest swell even more.
Whew... So many damn people. But the third-years are third-years for a reason. This must be it. Not shaking as much as I thought.
Sinwol Stadium looked rather shabby for a venue hosting the national tournament finals on the outside. Broadcasting equipment was barely adequate, with just a few cameras set up, and the press box was rundown. But today, this small stadium burned hotter than any pro ballpark.
Above all, it was a rare game drawing pro scouts from teams across the country—and even a few from Major League clubs. Their target was clear: Suseok High School's starter, Choi Kang-hyuk. The left-handed ace already famous nationwide. His fastballs nearing 150 km/h, sharp breaking pitches, and ice-cold mound presence were said to surpass high school level. Plus, the likely closer Lee Tae-sin in the ninth—the two pitchers alone were worth watching. With the draft approaching, it was their last chance to scout, so there was no reason for them not to flock to Sinwol Stadium.
The scouts from each team clutched notebooks and tablets, scrutinizing the players warming up. They exchanged brief greetings, sometimes cracking jokes to gauge the mood, but their eyes were sharp. They missed no small movement, no warm-up motion, tension thick in the air.
Meanwhile, Gocheok Turkeys scout Go Myeong-jin took the lineup sheet and quietly scanned it. His eyes paused at the name in the nine-hole.
"Kim Hu-seong..."
The Turkeys scouting team leader beside him glanced over. "What's up? Spot a name that stands out?"
Go Myeong-jin held up the order sheet and murmured low, "Nine-hole, this kid Kim Hu-seong. His defense was pretty impressive last game. Played center, then shifted to shortstop—turned a double play with a glove touch. Still sticks with me. Hitting's severely lacking, but defense-wise, he caught my eye."
The team leader smirked, nodding with interest. "Yeah? Solid name at least. Kim Hu-seong... Rolls off the tongue nice."
"...You aren't saying that just because it sounds like those Major Leaguers, are you?"
"Eh, kinda."
Then the team leader jolted. "Oh yeah! Now I remember. Went to see Lee Su-creang last weekend, and there was this guy training alone. Add 'hard worker' to the list?"
He chuckled, crossing his arms. "A guy with defensive instincts is useful. Multi-position players are rare. But you calling the hitting 'severely lacking' is unusual for you. That means like a .100 average, right?"
"Ahem... Yeah, around there."
"Eh, then it's tough. Plenty of defense-only guys out there. And today's facing Choi Kang-hyuk. Rough for a nine-hole hitter."
The team leader laughed lightly. Go Myeong-jin chuckled too.
"True. Probably won't get a hit. And we're here for Choi Kang-hyuk and Lee Tae-sin anyway. Maybe add a bit more... like Lee Su-creang."
"Right. Focus there."
The two fell silent, watching the warm-ups. Go Myeong-jin's eyes caught Kim Hu-seong stretching. Some came to confirm established stars; others hunted hidden gems.
Thump thump. His chest swelled. But that elation was crushed by harsh reality after just a few innings.
Whiiip!Pop!
"Strike three!"
- Choi Kang-hyuk is dominant. He's already got two perfect innings.
Suseok High's ace was proving his reputation with overwhelming pitching. Three straight strikeouts in the first. Not a single runner in the second. The ball seemed sucked into the catcher's mitt, velocity soaring past 150 km/h every time. Botong players swung desperately, but the pitches vanished before their eyes. Grounders were coldly snuffed by the infield.
By the start of the bottom of the third, the Botong bench hung heavy. No one said it, but everyone knew.
<At this rate, we could get no-hit. Perfect game even.>
The anxiety rippled through the players. Seven-hole hitter Shin Tae-woo tried a bunt to break the spell—a desperate bid to keep the ball alive. But Suseok's infield didn't flinch. The third baseman charged, snagged it in his glove, and fired to first. Out. Even the surprise bunt fell flat.
Next, eight-hole catcher Kang Min-seok. The team's homegrown star, but helpless at the plate. Choi Kang-hyuk's low fastball blew by; the bat sliced empty air. Strikeout. The second red light lit the scoreboard as Kim Hu-seong stepped in.
Whew. Whew...Getting tense.
I took a deep breath and entered the box. But my mind wasn't calm. Choi Kang-hyuk's stuff over three innings defied description beyond "overwhelming." Then the first pitch came.
Whiiip!Pop!
Choi Kang-hyuk nodded at the catcher's sign, wound up, and unleashed a fastball.
Whoa... Fast.
The radar gun flashed: 153 km/h.
"Ha... No joke."
No answer for this. I knew the instant it came. It felt that way. A league apart from any pitcher I'd faced. Was it because he was left-handed? Felt like a wall even compared to Lee Tae-sin.
I wanted to swing, but my body froze. Second pitch. I managed to turn the bat.
Ting!
- Foul!
I clipped the outside pitch, but it fouled off. Made contact, but the ball dribbled weakly, veering just off the third-base line into foul territory.
Ziiing... Damn, hurts.
The ball's weight forced me to flex my hands repeatedly to ease the pain. Even aiming for the sweet spot, the power pushed it back. Thought I'd squared it up... No chance.
Ting!Ziiing...
Third pitch, same story. I timed it early—foul again. Straight into the netting behind the ump.
Whoa. For real?
Even solid contact brought only stinging pain and the sense of being late.
Ting!Ziiing...
Fourth pitch, foul once more. Pulled it hard, but another backspin foul. Hands aching, swing weakening.
"Whew..."
Sweat trickled inside the helmet.
This make sense? How do you beat that?