Beanball Ignites the Powder Keg
Lee Seo-jin, the commentator, raised his voice the instant the ball struck Kim Hu-seong's back.
"Oh... it's a hit by pitch!"
The screen captured Kim Hu-seong clutching his back and spitting out a curse, while the dugout showed coaches half-leaping out before freezing in place.
A tense silence fell.
The air crackled with the threat of bench-clearing, but neither side charged out.
After confirming the catcher Lee Nam-cheol holding Kim Hu-seong back and Kim Hu-seong venting his frustration, Lee Seo-jin stared at the screen and said in a low tone, "No bench-clearing here. And... well, looking at pitcher Mun Bo-young's expression, there's no apologetic gesture toward the batter."
Lee Seo-jin inhaled sharply, sounding a bit disappointed, and continued, "The Turkeys are showing a lot of restraint this time. It looks like it'll pass quietly."
Meanwhile, No. 2 hitter Gu Min-seok stepped up to the plate. He removed his helmet, wiped his chin once, and his gaze naturally drifted toward first base. Then it stiffened slightly.
'Hu-seong, didn't you say no steals against lefties...?'
Kim Hu-seong had taken a wider lead than expected.
'This is dangerous...? Is he gonna run?'
But no matter how he looked, Gu Min-seok felt like Kim Hu-seong was about to bolt.
'Ah, he's running. I can feel it.'
Gu Min-seok steeled himself.
'Tch... guess I have to play some team ball then...'
On the other side, catcher Lee Nam-cheol was eyeing Kim Hu-seong on first closely too. After taking one to the back, he gave off an even more unstable vibe.
'Nah, he won't run. But it's a lefty...'
Still, it wasn't close enough to nail him if Mun Bo-young threw right away.
'Should I pick him? Nah, better prepare for a steal attempt.'
Instead of a straight throw, he thought of luring him with a pitchout-like delivery to rattle Kim Hu-seong.
'Yeah, let's shake him up.'
Mun Bo-young took a slightly deeper breath and went into his motion. And the moment the ball flew, Kim Hu-seong exploded off first.
His first step was explosive.
- "Kim Hu-seong... steals!" the caster shouted.
Lee Nam-cheol twisted to snag the ball, thinking instinctively, 'He's going for it. But I got it. This is doable!'
But in the next instant—
Gu Min-seok's bat swung wide on purpose, blocking the catcher's line of sight. He'd interfered at the absolute max allowed by the rules, perfectly executed.
Lee Nam-cheol's vision shook for a split second, losing the ball's exact spot. The pitch that should've popped cleanly into his mitt instead smacked near his palm.
Pop!
"Ugh...!"
Lee Nam-cheol felt pain shoot through his palm. But Kim Hu-seong had already covered more than half the basepath.
Lee Nam-cheol scrambled to reset and fired to second. But...
The ball sailed high over the second baseman's head. He leaped, barely tipping it with his glove tip, and it took forever to secure and tag.
In that split second, Kim Hu-seong slid in, hand to the bag.
"Safe!"
The second base ump called it safe, and Turkeys fans erupted in cheers.
Lee Seo-jin couldn't hide his admiration.
"Ah... what a play. Kim Hu-seong bolts unexpectedly right away, the catcher reads it and calls for a pickoff pitch. But No. 2 hitter Gu Min-seok swings big for the team play, disrupting the catcher, letting Kim Hu-seong slide safely into second. The catcher handled it well, but the runner and hitter's chemistry was perfect."
Gu Min-seok pressed his helmet down tight in front of the plate, muttering inwardly.
'Hey... nice. Good job, Hu-seong. Huh...? And a bunt sign...? A surprise bunt now? That's Eulji Crows territory...'
* * *
Sliding into second, the ump's "Safe!" rang out, and I screamed inside.
Nice... I lived.
It was a close one, but it worked.
My back still stung, but the relief of survival drowned it out.
I caught my breath and rose slowly, brushing dirt off my gear. My eyes were already locked on the mound.
Good, now I can rattle them.
Mun Bo-young was glancing warily at second, fidgeting. I rechecked his hand movements and glove position.
Same pattern as before.
Four-seam.
And with the pitcher watching, I blatantly flashed the four-seam grip sign again, waggling my fingers.
Come on, this again, right?
I mocked him openly, taunting.
Mun Bo-young's face hardened.
'What? Doing that while the pitcher's watching?'
Gu Min-seok, pondering a bunt, jolted.
"Hey!"
Suddenly, catcher Lee Nam-cheol ripped off his mask, shot up, and stormed past the mound toward second, ignoring the home plate ump's stop call. He pointed at me.
"Hey. Cut it out."
The Larus dugout-side crowd went dead silent.
I looked up slowly. And packaged all my pent-up rage oh-so-cleverly.
"What exactly should I cut out?"
Lee Nam-cheol looked baffled.
"You know damn well. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I almost laughed. But it was a sneer.
"Stealing signs? What era do you think this is? We steal signs? You guys not allowed to use PitchCom? You do use it, right? So what's to steal? Isn't this just on the pitcher?"
Lee Nam-cheol's face darkened.
I didn't stop. The back pain, their attitude after, this bullshit complaint—it all boiled over.
"The ones dragging pro ball down aren't runners calling signs. It's him, right? If he can't handle getting read, yank him. Looks like he doesn't have the stuff for first team anyway."
Larus players suddenly buzzed and surged forward.
"Say that again!"
"What'd you say?"
I flinched but kept my face stone-cold. Words were out; no take-backs.
The home plate ump spread his arms wide to block. Larus bench players were spilling out. And our Turkeys side flooded in too—Son Tae-ho, Gu Min-seok, Lee Sang-hyeon, coaches lining up.
They shoved, covered, yelled.
"Hey hey! Back off!"
"What? You hit ours first!"
"At least apologize! And you pull this?"
Shouts flew as tension skyrocketed between the teams. But no fists flew.
More players grabbed each other than swung, and umps wedged in hard.
In the end, it simmered down from bench-clearing brink to standoff.
Players retreated, heavy breaths ragged. I stood firm behind second.
Sweat and fury pounded my heart, but my expression didn't crack.
Ah... I just wanted to do a little teabagging, but it escalated.
Too late now. No rewind.
I eyed the pitcher.
Stealing second wasn't enough. I wanted to shake them more.
Dominate the battery.
For that, I needed third.
But stealing third from second is way tougher. A split-second late, and you're toast.
So I watched Mun Bo-young's every twitch like a hawk.
I widened my lead boldly. To threaten.
Then—
Catcher Lee Nam-cheol snapped his glove shut. Pickoff signal.
Mun Bo-young whipped around and fired to second like he'd been waiting.
I realized too late I'd been caught leaning.
"Damn."
My foot dragged slow, stuck to the dirt.
Ah... too late.
Ice ran down my spine. Dead meat.
But then—the impossible.
Rushed sign, second baseman late on the cover. He rushed in, glove tip-tipped it, and it popped free.
I lunged, grabbed the bag. Gulped air.
Whew. Lived.
Why was my reaction slow?
Heart still thundered in my ears.
Time to shrink the lead. Aggressive is good, but sluggish reactions kill.
I reset carefully, narrowed it a bit.
Then Mun Bo-young threw.
Gu Min-seok shortened his grip, laid down a bunt.
Thwack!
Ball rolled toward first. I bolted to third.
Glanced at first.
First baseman fielded clean, pitcher covering.
Ah... out?
But pitcher's cover was late, and Gu Min-seok beat it to the bag too.
Huh? Now it's one out, runners on first and third.
This worked?
I stared at the pitcher.
Mun Bo-young's face was thunderous.
Clear now. He's rattled.
If I time it right when he loses it... home steal possible?