Heavy Limbs and Relentless Fouls
The pre-game meeting ended faster than expected, my body feeling like lead. As soon as the manager briefly relayed the strategy and left the room, the players stood up one after another.
Phew… good thing. Not late. My name was still listed as the starter. Time to warm up. But just as I started to rise from my seat, I felt nearby gazes flick toward me before quickly drifting away.
Huh? Even in that brief moment, the meaning in their eyes was crystal clear.
Haha… yeah, makes sense. But I was the leadoff today. No time to worry about that. Keeping my head down, I stood and checked the time. Less than 30 minutes left to warm up. I had to move fast to get into game shape.
But then—a familiar voice called from behind.
“Hey, Kim Hu-seong. Why do you only pick up the bad habits from Hwang Do-yoon?”
Turning around, I saw Son Tae-ho hyung standing there, arms crossed, staring at me. His eyes seemed amused, but his tone was sharp.
Then Hwang Do-yoon hyung sauntered over, shrugging his shoulders as he muttered, “Hmm… isn't he worse than me? How does he skip all the training? I wasn't that bad…”
“Like hell you weren't.”
“Ahem…”
Son Tae-ho hyung's face hardened, and Hwang Do-yoon hyung quietly vanished. The atmosphere around us grew even chillier. From the back, Im Jae-min hyung shot me a glare. He'd been openly showing his resentment toward me lately.
Well, he has reason to. He was the original owner of third base. If I hadn't been starting this game, he'd probably be out there.
Most of the bench players pushed aside, including Im Jae-min hyung, were giving me dirty looks. Even Son Tae-ho hyung and Lee Sang-hyeon hyung, who would've usually said something, stayed silent this time. They all knew I'd messed up.
And I couldn't deny it. Making excuses would only make it worse.
“Uh… I'll head out then. Gotta warm up quick.”
I pulled my cap low and left the locker room without another word, heading to the training area. I started with my legs—stretching the hamstrings, rotating the hips, circling each shoulder. But my body wouldn't loosen up. Not enough time.
The top of the first went smoothly—no balls came my way, thankfully. After the switch, my at-bat came right up in the bottom of the first.
Phew… alright. Gotta nail this today.
There'd been pitchers in the past who showed up blackout drunk before games. Insane behavior, but they were aces—they won and put up good numbers. No one called them out. To survive, I had one path: play like hell. Not just survive this off unauthorized absence, but crush it right up to full sleep before the next game.
“Hoo…”
A deep breath to steady myself. As I stepped into the box, a faint murmur rose from the stands.
Cough… Kim Se-rin the cheerleader popped into my head. Shake it off. But given the situation, I quickly shoved her out and focused on the opponent.
The enemy's starter was Ha Chang-hyuk of the Incheon Cranes. A second-year with a big name in the league already. First-round draft pick in 2021, now firmly the team's No. 4 starter in 2023. Famous for his insane velocity.
Remembering that made my nerves tighten automatically. He finished his warm-ups and toed the rubber. I moved from the on-deck circle to the plate.
The catcher flashed a sign, and Ha Chang-hyuk went into his windup.
First pitch—let's see it.
Whiiiiiish!
Plack!
The ball sliced through the air into the mitt. The scoreboard flashed 156 km/h. Beyond just fast—it had real weight.
Okay… we're screwed.
Cold sweat broke out instinctively. This wouldn't be easy. My body knew it first. Plenty of pitchers throw hard nowadays, but this wasn't a timing issue—the ball itself was just good. No drop. The hallmark of a pitcher with great stuff.
Ha Chang-hyuk readied the next one.
Good, watch this and lock in the timing.
Whiiiish!
Pop!
A changeup this time, slower tempo. It dove right into the heart of the zone.
Damn, why'd I wait? Swinging would've been a hit…
But the pitch was gone. No point dwelling. Two red lights on the board. I was behind.
Ha Chang-hyuk adjusted his cap and took the catcher's sign again. No choices left. Just swing.
Whiiiiiish!
Ting!
The hitting coach watched intently from the end of the dugout, arms crossed.
Strange guy…
The player he was eyeing was Kim Hu-seong. A guy miles away from the hitting theory he believed in.
Ting! Thud!
Kim Hu-seong fouled another one off, sending it into the back netting.
“Foul again.”
The coach glanced at the opposing pitcher. Ha Chang-hyuk looked relaxed, but they were already eight pitches deep.
How's this kid hanging in there? Against a guy with that velocity… and such heavy stuff…
Most hitters facing Ha Chang-hyuk's heat dragged the bat low through empty air. Partly timing, but the ball's quality meant minimal sink, confusing their depth perception. Plus, modern hitters with uppercut or level swings whiffed on high fastballs that fast.
But Kim Hu-seong was different.
His swing?
A downswing out of step with the times. Yet somehow, he nicked the bottom of those fastballs.
Ting!
Everyone knew Kim Hu-seong made contact well.
Not great plate discipline or elite contact—just really good at fouling it off…
The pitcher's face was starting to twist.
No answer… what'll he do?
There was a certain thrill in watching a battle like this.
Veterans recognize the downswing and pound low or induce grounders with low breaking stuff. But this young guy's green—no savvy. Or maybe he just can't execute it?
Ah… it hurts… The pain in my hands was intense. By the ninth foul, my fingertips were numb. The price of meeting those earnest fastballs head-on—my hands were losing feeling.
Can't hit anymore. Hands feel like they're gonna burst…
Pain twisted my stance, slowing my swing bit by bit. I could still square it up, but with the power drain, the ball wasn't carrying.
The vibration from contact shot from my fingertips through my wrists and up my arms. It hurt so bad I briefly thought about just striking out here.
No, can't do that. I'm the leadoff… die like this?
Ah… and today of all days, can't pull out… At least ground out.
Just as I steeled myself, the catcher's mitt dropped low. Ha Chang-hyuk took a quick breath and fired.
Different! Not a fastball. The trajectory bent oddly mid-flight.
A slider. I clocked it as off-speed instantly, but the path was weird—tighter to my body than expected.
Wait, this is…
The ball hooked right in at me. Had to bail. But whether from the botched warmup or the 10-pitch war, my body was frozen stiff.
Thwack!
“Ah!”
A short yelp as it smacked my elbow guard.
The impact jolted my arm with a thud. A sharp sting shot through, but weirdly, my hands still hurt worse.
Lucky… got the guard.
A sigh of relief escaped inwardly. Arm hurt, but this was manageable.
“You okay, Kim Hu-seong?”
The medical team rushed over after seeing the plunk. I nodded slightly.
I stood and trotted to first. A few hyungs in the dugout glared at the pitcher.
“Hey, you good?”
“Looked intentional…”
Was it? Whatever, I'm fine. Couldn't hit anyway—reaching base is a win.
At the bag, the pitcher gestured an apology. Close call, but hey, apology accepted. I signaled back that I was okay.
Alright then…
But some hyungs scowled at his gesture, still glaring.
…Uh… what do I do?
Screw it. I took a wide lead as usual.
Wait. Body feels heavy? From the warmup fail? Reactions lagged.
Stepping to shift weight felt off. This would make me slow to second or diving back to the bag…
I moved more to loosen up.
Shuffle shuffle.
Then the pitcher glared fiercely at me.
…?