Pushed to the Limit
Things had come to this? The dugout of the Busan Siguls hung heavy with defeat. The manager stood in front of the bench, arms crossed, staring out at the mound.
Shiiiik— boom!
“Strike three!”
Gocheok Turkeys' ace starter Spencer was once again painting the corners with pinpoint control, and the hitters kept whiffing at empty air.
The Siguls manager let out a deep sigh.
“Of all days…”
Bad luck. It was the Siguls' fifth starter on the mound. He'd been reliable all season, eating up five innings consistently, but facing their ace—and on a day when he was especially sharp. The Siguls' pitching was weak today, so the bats needed to carry them, but they hadn't scored through three innings.
Then it happened.
Crack!
A sharp crack echoed through the stadium. Cleanup hitter Jang Jun-young's bat whipped around and met the ball squarely, sending it sailing over the center fielder's head to bounce off the outfield fence and disappear.
A solo homer. The game's first run.
But the score's still two runs away…
As Jang Jun-young adjusted his belt and trotted back in, the manager called out to him.
“Jun-young, what do you think? Can we get to that guy?”
Jang Jun-young caught his breath and took a sip from his drink. Then he slowly shook his head.
“Manager… that one was a mistake. The breaking ball hung high, right down the middle. Pure luck.”
The manager's brow furrowed.
“So you're saying… we might not touch him again?”
“Yeah. His stuff's too good today. The velocity's up—tough to square up.”
The Busan Siguls manager ground his teeth lightly.
“No answer right now, then. We wait for Spencer to tire or the bullpen to come in.”
Jang Jun-young added.
Silence fell for a moment.
“Hah… this is gonna drag. Fine, let's play for that.”
The bottom of the seventh arrived.
I watched Lee Tae-sin with tense eyes. He threw two innings yesterday… his arm has to be a little heavy, right?
Lee Tae-sin adjusted his cap, took a deep breath, checked the catcher's sign, and unleashed his first pitch.
Shiiiik— pop!
The fastball slammed into the mitt, echoing across the field.
Whoa… stuff looks sharp today too.
The batter didn't even flinch. The pitches that followed were flawless: a sharp slider for a swing-and-miss, a big-breaking curve for a grounder. Facing the bottom of the order, he retired the side in order without issue.
“Nice, keep it going. One more inning.”
I said as I passed Lee Tae-sin.
“Don't worry.”
And the eighth came quickly.
Up next: 2-hole, 3-hole, 4-hole. All lefties. A tough matchup for righty Lee Tae-sin.
A well-stocked staff might get flak for “lefty-righty mismanagement,” but they'd bring in a southpaw. The Turkeys' pitching was battered, though, so they stuck with Lee Tae-sin.
Lee Tae-sin's expression hardened as he clocked the string of lefties.
As the #2 hitter Lee Min-ho stepped in, Lee Tae-sin gambled with a low-and-away heater. But it caught too much of the plate.
Thwack!
The ball scooted low through the infield toward center. Lee Tae-sin sighed shortly and took a new ball from the catcher.
Next, the #3 hitter. Busan Siguls' right fielder Kim Jong-su entered the box, and Lee Tae-sin sensed the momentum shifting.
Shiiiik— pop!
“Strike!”
The Siguls' cleanup let the first pitch go to gauge timing, then hunted the second.
Thwack!
The ball rolled deep down the third-base line.
Deep!
I dove on instinct. Dust kicked up as my body slid across the dirt. The ball kissed the tip of my glove; I snagged it and popped up.
“First!”
The catcher's call hit my ears as I judged the play. I fired to first.
“Third!”
Second baseman Kim Han-seong's voice rang out simultaneously. I glanced—the runner from first had rounded second toward third.
Damn! They're running it out?
Then, an unexpected play: First baseman Hwang Do-yoon peeled off the bag, snaring my throw.
What?!
Puzzle hit me for a split second, but I got it. Gotcha.
I hustled to third, and Hwang Do-yoon's laser pegged my glove right on time.
The runner slid in, hand outstretched. I dropped low, glove out.
Smack! Glove met wrist—
“Out!”
The ump's call boomed as groans poured from the Siguls' dugout.
Lee Tae-sin wiped sweat from his brow atop the mound and exhaled in relief. I took my time circling the ball back, signaling calm. He nodded.
The game ended. It was sweltering, but Sajik Stadium felt ice-cold.
“You call that pro ball?!”
Jeers tore from the first-base stands.
“Losing two to the last-place team?!”
“Get the hell out—hey! Don't come over! What'd I do wrong?!”
Profanity-laced shouts rained on the dugout. Ushers rushed the rowdy fans, but it didn't settle quickly. Some stood, flailing arms and screaming; families with kids quietly turned away.
The winning Turkeys' dugout buzzed with energy. Not everyone could join in, though.
Jo Seon-jae wiped sweat with a towel, glancing at the pitching coach. He'd just finished the final inning.
Back-to-back-to-back outings. Shoulder's gonna feel it.
“Coach…”
Jo Seon-jae spoke cautiously.
“Honestly… it's tough right now. You're not thinking tomorrow too, are you?”
The pitching coach eyed him.
“What're you saying? You, Tae-sin—it's crunch time, you gotta pitch. I know you've got 12 saves. But the team's in a hole.”
Jo Seon-jae bit his lip.
“Still, three straight is overkill. Slider was slipping today.”
The coach pondered, then lowered his voice.
“Seon-jae, you've rested plenty. Four days off last week. I get it feels rough. But losses meant the chase guys got the ball. That's why you rested—now you grind.”
Jo Seon-jae's face hardened.
“Truth is, without you and Tae-sin, no one I trust.”
More wanted to spill, but the coach's tone was final.
“We'll see tomorrow. Check your shoulder then. If it feels good in the 'pen, you're up. Otherwise, tough luck. No point hashing it here. Got it?”
Jo Seon-jae exhaled long, swallowing words.
“Still…”
The coach cut him off.
“Enough. Look at the mood. Two wins, still dead last, fans just cooling off. Understand the situation.”
Jo Seon-jae nodded at last.
“…Got it.”
He rose slowly, tugged his cap low, and headed to the clubhouse. Inside, the position players bantered amiably. Son Tae-ho had Hwang Do-yoon in a headlock on one side, Kim Hu-seong on the other, laughing heartily.
Hah… uneasy.
Bottom of the sixth. Gocheok Turkeys' #2 starter Michael couldn't hang on. Consecutive hits and walks brewed crisis; Kim Young-ho sighed shortly and signaled the pen.
Up came Lee Tae-sin again. Jo Seon-jae clicked his tongue at the sight.
This damn team… actually running him out for three straight.
Curses bubbled inside. No outs, runners on first and third. If Lee Tae-sin escaped two innings, Jo Seon-jae would own 8th and 9th.
He scowled at the fielders. Score more if you're gonna let 'em on.
Turkeys led 1-0. Top first: Kim Hu-seong infield single, steal, bunt to third, sac fly home. Annoying small ball forced Kim Young-ho to lean on the firemen.
Jo Seon-jae tugged his cap and sighed.
“Hah… is this how it rolls?”