I Promise You
Top of the sixth, my turn at bat came around again. Whew… pro first-team games really are on another level. It got intense right away… From my second at-bat onward, the opposing defense had clearly zeroed in on me. Probably because of that flashy play earlier. Starting right after, I became a marked man. The pitcher wasn't giving me anything good, and the infield shifted in tight. Thanks to that, my last at-bat ended with a groundout to the infield.
I needed to create a different situation this time. As I stepped into the box, the pitcher exchanged a long sign sequence with the catcher before firing the first pitch. A fastball away. Tick! I pushed it off, but my timing was a hair late—it caught the end of the bat.
“Foul.”
My timing wasn't bad. The pitch was just faster than expected. I reset my stance and dug in again.
Shiiiiek! I sensed a subtle break on the incoming pitch. I swung on reflex, chopping down low. Tick! The ball hit the dirt and bounced high toward shortstop, then kissed the ground again just in front of him, creating an irregular hop. The shortstop lunged forward to snag it but hesitated for a split second. The bounce was bigger than anticipated, so he backpedaled, then dove forward as it dropped. That momentary waver was my opening.
I sprinted full tilt for first. Pabababak! The shortstop fired a hurried throw, but it sailed a bit high. As the first baseman jumped to glove it and touched the bag, my left foot beat him there.
“Safe!”
The umpire's call rang out as I caught my breath and jogged back to first. The first-base coach stuck out his fist.
“Nice, Hu-seong! Great run! Two hits today—outstanding.”
I bumped fists lightly, steadying my breathing, already visualizing the next play in my head. Pitcher's delivery, catcher's pop time. Probably the same setup…? I widened my lead a touch, eyeing a steal to second. I glanced at the dugout. No sign came. Normally, that meant hold. No green light for freelance running.
But this was evaluation time. I had to go. To hold my spot, I had to run.
That's when it happened. As if sensing my intent, the pitcher immediately glanced at first and went into his pickoff move. I dove headfirst back to the bag. My fingertips slapped the base as sand kicked up. The pitcher sighed, retreating to the mound while taking the return throw from first, but his eyes stayed glued to me. Still stung from that third-base steal earlier, huh? Can't let that happen…
I widened my lead again. Another quick pickoff. Second headfirst dive. My purple uniform was caked in dirt. But I kept my expression neutral and took an even bigger lead.
Third pickoff came.
“Isn't this a bit much?” I said to the Siguls first baseman.
But Kang Kyung-won stayed silent. Oof… cold shoulder. Fine, no choice then. I exaggerated my steps, widening the lead deliberately, then brushed the dirt to draw the pitcher's glare. Grind… I could see him clench his jaw at the blatant taunt. Come on, throw again?
But he'd picked off too much already. The pitcher huffed, resetting. Time to go. I'd slid three times already, but my arms and legs felt no fatigue—my heart was pounding instead.
Shiiiiek! Pababaabak! Ssssssliiiide! Pop!
“Safe!”
Steal successful again.
“Ah…” I heard the opposing second baseman groan in frustration at my steal.
Pickoffs were heavy—third might be tough…? I brushed off the dirt and stood. My front side stung, maybe from the dive or the Siguls infielders' stares. As I pondered, a sign flashed from the bench. Bunt sign. Things'll ease up a bit now.
Bottom of the sixth, our turn to field. Turkeys' fifth starter Jang Hyun-il came out, replaced by Lee Tae-sin on the mound.
Ooh… Lee Tae-sin was carving out a spot in the Turkeys bullpen. Started as a chase guy, now a full-fledged closer. Though… these days, the pen rarely saw late innings, so he pitched to eat frames.
Lee Tae-sin nodded lightly and started throwing. I toed the third-base line, crouching low. The batter choked up and slashed hard. Coming my way! The ball skidded across the grass, sharp toward me. Fast! It bounced once irregularly. Damn it! Trajectory shifted, but I'd already dropped low, adjusting my glove angle. As dirt sprayed, I felt it in my palm.
Got it. I gripped naturally and fired to first.
Shiiiiiiik! Pop!
The ump thrust his arm out. “Out!”
Cheers erupted from the third-base stands.
“Nice defense!”
“Kim Hu-seong, great play!”
A few Turkeys fans' voices carried.
“Kim Hu-seong, fighting!”
Hmm… I exhaled lightly, dusting my glove.
In the dugout, watching intently, Manager Kim Young-ho crossed his arms quietly. The chief coach scribbled notes beside him.
Kim Young-ho asked, “Any mistakes from Kim Hu-seong today?”
The chief coach looked up. “None. Ball's come his way five times total—no errors. Two were tough hops like that one, handled clean.”
“Hmm…”
“Above all, his throws are rock-solid. No errant ones. Considering how bad throws cost us runs before…”
Kim Young-ho's lips twitched up as he nodded. “Looks that way, right? Same type as before… but stable arm…”
A meaningful tone lingered. He pondered briefly, eyes back on the field, then muttered, “Wonder if he can speed up in clutch spots?”
“Not sure. But this steady play isn't bad now. He's got that at-bat stuff too…”
“True. Kim Hu-seong… claimed half a starting spot in his return game.”
The chief coach smiled and nodded. Kim Young-ho turned back to the field. At third, Kim Hu-seong tapped his glove lightly, ready for the next play.
Game over. The scoreboard read 6-4. As the final out fell, cheers exploded in the dugout.
Tough one. Our fifth starter versus their third—not ideal from the jump. But the lineup seized early momentum, bullpen held, and clutch hits and baserunning kept us afloat mid-game.
I pulled off my helmet, catching my breath, and headed in. Son Tae-ho approached first.
“Hey, Hu-seong. Killed it today. Reminded me of that Phoenix game you started.”
Sincerity rang in the captain's voice. Hwang Do-yoon clapped my shoulder with a grin.
“Told ya he'd shine. Best in Double-A, hands down.”
Lee Sang-hyeon followed. “Welcome back.”
The seniors' praise flushed my face—the more it poured, the more embarrassed I got. My line: 5-for-3, 4 steals, 3 runs. Every hit led to a steal, at least second, then lineup support got me home. Textbook small ball.
Chatting lightly with the vets, prepping to head in, Son Tae-ho chuckled suddenly.
“Hu-seong, you're today's MVP, 100%. Prep that interview.”
I froze. “Oh crap…”
Too locked on the game—no thought to that. Brain blanked.
“Kim Hu-seong… please come for the interview.”
Kraaaap. No dodging it. What to say on mic? What if they ask about that mess? Screwed…
Then I spotted my still-dirty uniform. Got a way…!
.
.
.
At the interview zone, lights blinded. Lenses trained on me. I exhaled tension, took the mic.
The caster introduced, and it kicked off.
“Hello, Kim Hu-seong here.”
My voice shook a bit, but I kept it smooth.
“Thank you. Thrilled the team won. Starter, bullpen, lineup—everyone did their part for this W.”
Good, smooth so far.
But the caster cut to the chase.
Worried my ass… they were rioting it was over… But bashing fans here? Amateur hour. That's begging for backlash.
“Whatever it was, fans saw it as controversy. No excuses needed. My answer to worried fans is this.”
Prepped this moment perfectly.
“Can you see it? My uniform's filthy, right? Three hits, four steals, diving plays at third—dirt from head to toe.”
I showed off the mud-caked jersey. Baseball fans are weak to results…
And to passion.
“I promise you: In every game I play, I'll end it looking like this.”