Making the Ace Sweat
Somehow make it happen—smack! “Foul!” The battle dragged all the way to the 13th pitch. My arm was already heavy, my fingertips numb, but I somehow thrust the bat out and sliced another one foul. My stamina was shot; I figured I couldn't hold out much longer. Yet strangely, my hands could feel the seams of the ball, nicking it precisely every time. That alone filled me with a sense of satisfaction for pulling it off this far.
But if someone asked whether I could actually line a hit in this state, I couldn't confidently say yes. I'm at my limit already... Even if I connect, not sure I could hustle to first...
The Eagles' pitcher, Park Jun-seo, paused to catch his breath. He's getting antsy. They're feeling the pressure too. But our situations were different. He still had plenty of gas left in the early innings, while I was nearing exhaustion after burning so much already. I envied him a bit.
That thought flashed through my mind just as the 14th pitch came in. Park Jun-seo opted for a sinker that tailed off the outer edge. I shoved the bat out, forcing contact. Tick! The bat definitely grazed it, but there was no power behind the ball. It sliced thinly and floated slowly toward the foul line outside third.
“The third baseman has it. Park Jun-seo finally gets Kim Hu-seong after a 14-pitch battle!”
A wave of regret hit me instantly. I'd dragged it this far—I wanted to squeeze out just one more thing. But I never imagined that last one would float so weakly. Still, as I trudged back along the base path toward the dugout, a bigger sense of relief washed over the disappointment. Yeah, I did what I could. In this depleted state, tying up their ace starter for 14 pitches in the first inning? Mission accomplished.
Meanwhile, the pitcher on the mound looked grim despite the out. It wasn't a strikeout, nor had he induced a hard-hit ball. I'd kept fouling him off, running up the count and exposing most of his pitches, forcing him to burn serious stamina right out of the gate.
Damn... Park Jun-seo took a deep breath as he climbed the mound again in the bottom of the fourth. Sweat beaded on his face, cold trickles running down from under his cap.
The score was 2-0. Holding them scoreless through three gave him some confidence, but the leadoff hitter this inning was the problem. Kim Hu-seong was back at the plate.
The most annoying type for any pitcher—the one you least want to face. Park Jun-seo's face twisted into a scowl the moment he saw him stride in. The guy who'd forced 14 pitches in the first. He'd barely escaped with the out, but it had drained him unnecessarily. And now, round two.
During the short break mid-game, he'd quickly reviewed the data from the analytics team. The summary was straightforward:
Kim Hu-seong Scouting Report
• Extremely annoying once on base.
• Ruthlessly aggressive runner.
• Forces infield defense to work overtime.
• Hits a ton of grounders to the infield.
• Makes contact on almost every pitch.
• Swings at borderline balls.
That last point grated on Park Jun-seo especially. It meant he fouled off anything close instead of letting it go. And he'd just proven it.
Truly, no words but “annoying as hell.”
Can't just throw obvious balls either. If it's too blatant, even a good foul-off hitter won't chase. Park Jun-seo swallowed a sigh. So that's why the previous pitchers just pounded the heart of the zone? Wondered why it wasn't working for me... Turns out the guy's just a pain in the ass. But was he this bad?
Kim Hu-seong glared at him from the box. Park Jun-seo felt exposed. Damn, whatever I throw, he fouls it off... Guess the answer's inside fastballs...
He gritted his teeth, steadied toward the mitt, and fired a heater right down the middle—hoping for bad timing.
But... thwack! The ball rocketed toward the backstop screen. Another foul.
Park Jun-seo's eyebrow twitched. Again...
The second was another fastball, harder and tighter inside. Tick!
Same result. Kim Hu-seong's bat tracked it perfectly, nicking it thin. Haa... Fastballs not working anymore?
No matter how he thought, it wasn't right. He's fouling everything...
Park Jun-seo recalled the 14-pitch duel from the first. But there was one way. Alright... let's go with that.
He threw it—the same sinking one that got him out before, tailing outside.
Thwack! “Uwaaaah!” “Oof...”
Phew... close one. I reset my stance with a stiff expression. That pitch that ended me last time came again. Luckily, I shoved it out like a push bunt, sending it toward their dugout. Honestly, off-speed is tougher than fastballs. Maybe I should bait him into throwing more heat... No confidence I'd cut that one clean again.
Another pitch incoming—diving inside. Thwack! This one rocketed hard toward the stands down the first-base line. The whistle blew: foul.
I stared straight ahead. The pitcher was gnashing his teeth. Still 0-2, but the hitter had the edge.
The Suwon Eagles GM lounged on his office sofa, watching TV. But his brow furrowed at the scene unfolding on screen.
Lee Seo-jin in the booth was fired up.
The GM froze, remote in hand, staring intently. Park Jun-seo getting pushed around like that?
He knew Park Jun-seo's type better than anyone: ice in the veins. Overpowered hitters early with heat, quick tempo, never let them dictate. But right now, Park Jun-seo looked gassed on the mound—flushed face, ragged breaths.
14 pitches earlier, now 10 more. Against Kim Hu-seong again. Close-up on TV: Park Jun-seo grinding his teeth.
The GM whipped out his phone and dialed the scouting director.
“Hey, scouting director. Watching TV?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kim Hu-seong. What's the read?”
“Today's showing he's better than we thought. Wasn't expecting this level, but this game seals it.”
“What tier?”
“If he keeps this up, no first-rounder outshines him.”
The GM glanced at the TV, face blank. “Heard the Turkeys are sniffing around for trades... Any shot we snag him? Looks useful.”
The scouting director paused, then replied. “Honestly, Kim Hu-seong's a steal. 11th-round salary—30 million won. But today's performance? Plays like a 100-million guy at least. Great glove, fast feet, fouls off everything. Tons of intangible value that's a nightmare for opponents.”
The GM's eyebrow arched. “Worth pursuing, then?”
“Absolutely. Issue is...” The director inhaled deeply. “Opponent's the Turkeys.”
On TV, Kim Hu-seong fouled another one, tormenting Park Jun-seo. The GM clicked his tongue.
“Hmm... Turkeys need pitching. Throw 'em a decent prospect, maybe they bite.”
The director raised a stark reality. “Turkeys won't trade even for a B-lister at A-grade pay. You know their philosophy. Ninth place, but they'd rather develop five 30-million guys than roster 1-billion stars. Our trade values don't align. Tough sell...”
The Eagles GM leaned back, sighing long. “Yeah... figures. Still, push something. Tsk... If we could just shove cash their way, it'd be easy... Damn rookies.”