Crazy Bastard Steals the Show
The second away game against the Gwangju Pigeons had begun. Top of the first. Gocheok Turkeys at bat. Stepping up to the plate, I knew right away this one wouldn't be easy.
The first thing I noticed was the defensive shift at third base. Gone was the offensive-minded third baseman from the day before—in his place stood a defensive specialist who ranked among the league's best with the glove. That meant no more exploiting the hot corner.
Hmm... Won't be pulling off yesterday's trick again. But there was no time to worry. I focused my mind and decided to watch the first two pitches from the opposing pitcher, Im Jong-hyun.
A veteran lefty who'd seen time in the majors. Built like a thick hexagon—his "Big Gun" nickname fit perfectly.
First pitch, second pitch. I let them go by easily, timing myself while pondering my escape route. The good news? Im Jong-hyun hadn't anticipated I'd play it that way.
He'd thrown two pitches outside the zone, and just like that, the count was 2-0. Perfect for me. Sometimes switching up patterns forces the opponent to adjust... Hmm...? A sudden chill ran down my spine. Fast. Was the Pigeons' analytics team on the ball? Changes mid-game weren't common, but I could feel the feedback loop working.
Whew... While sorting my thoughts, I kept scanning the defense relentlessly, glancing for even the tiniest gap.
There... Found it. Maybe because I'd been watching so intently. It was a subtle opening, but a real one.
Tick!
I pushed it lightly. Foul!
Five pitches in, count now 2-2. That sealed it. The Pigeons' infielders were convinced I'd target third again—thanks to yesterday's five push hits. They were certain I'd bunt that way. And that tiny miscalculation was my one shot.
I made my decision. No reason to hesitate now that I'd clocked it.
The moment Im Jong-hyun went into his windup, my body was already moving.
Screee!
As the ball left his fingertips, I quickly shifted to bunt stance and tapped it toward first. They'd been geared for third, so the first baseman hesitated.
The ball rolled down the first-base foul line... Too far for the catcher to charge, awkward for the pitcher to field. Nice...
It rolled lightly, hugging the line just inside fair territory. Could've gone straight and drifted foul, but luckily, it traced the perfect path.
The first baseman looked flustered but dashed forward and scooped it up. Im Jong-hyun hustled over for backup—not slow, but trailing the ball's line, he spotted me between him and first.
He stretched back while touching the bag. By the time the first baseman bent to grab it, there was no angle to throw—but Im Jong-hyun opened one up.
But... I was too fast.
Pop!
"Safe!"
Whew... Made it. I gulped air and stomped lightly on first. Nailing a leadoff walk or hit in the first—half the mission accomplished.
I glanced at Im Jong-hyun trudging back to the mound.
...Whew... Safe play's me bunting to second, then 3-4 hitters driving me home.
I looked toward third. Far off, the cheerleaders cheered quietly.
...But that's not how I roll.
* * *
It had been a while since I'd seen that guy. He was a rookie. I'm a fifth-year pro, everyday first-team guy. We shouldn't cross paths much, but... an injury sent me to second team, where I spotted him.
The guy's glove was solid. No, that was all he had going. Nothing else stood out. But bit by bit, he added skills, growing like a maniac. And eventually, he broke into the first team.
Beating me up there...
"Kim Hu-seong hits it! Bouncing irregularly toward third! Third baseman charges and fires—but... can't nab Kim Hu-seong."
Ooh... He survives that? Fast feet, as expected.
Hmm...? What's this, steal attempt? Opposing starter Yang Do-young's a righty sidearmer, near underhand—not a bad matchup for stealing. But... their catcher Choi Woo-sung's a savvy defensive vet, and the shortstop and second baseman are slick...
"Runner goes! Hand on second almost simultaneous with the tag. What's the call...?"
"Ah! Second-base ump calls him safe."
Whew... Dodged a bullet. That timing nearly killed him...
"Pigeons catcher Choi Woo-sung looks gutted. Seasoned backstop makes steals tough... Better lay off 'em..."
"Timing was solid, throw too—but he survives by a hair."
The guy had picked up another freak ability. At the plate against Yang Do-young, he brushed his thigh from second. That stance meant one thing: fastball next...
Screee!
Crack!
"Batter connects! Drops in front of left field for a hit!"
Spot on. Scary bastard. Parked on second, he seems to read every pitch... How the hell?
Whatever. I'm reaping the benefits.
I figured that was his ceiling. But...
Today, maybe it was time to call him something else.
"Kim Hu-seong survives on a bunt single. Turkeys' number two, Gu Min-seok, steps in."
Gu Min-seok glanced at me on first.
Ha... Foul to third to tense 'em up, then bunt to first? Kid's got BQ for days. Perfect table-setter.
But... hold up this time, Hu-seong. Why you itching to run like that? Nearly tagged yesterday—even eating the pitcher's timing.
Smart runners pick spots. That's a vet lefty. Can't take a big lead. And you go...?
"Whoa... Pitcher-runner mind games heating up."
"Exactly. Runner's telegraphing a steal, forcing Im Jong-hyun to watch. But will he? For real? Hu-seong's annoyingly hovering just out of pickoff range. Battle of wills..."
"Who's got the edge?"
"Im Jong-hyun, still. Catcher's solid, second baseman too—puts pressure on Hu-seong. Yesterday's game... that lead? Yeah. Ninety percent dead."
"Ten percent chance he lives, though."
"Sure, variables like errors."
Gu Min-seok eyed the dugout. Surprise bunt. Yeah, that's stable. He prepped to bunt.
But...
Thud thud thud!
Eh? He went!?
Screee!
Pop!
...?! Pitch-out?
Gu Min-seok couldn't bunt—the throw went wide. Crazy! Dangerous!
"Pitch-out! Choi Woo-sung fires to second! Perfect line... He's toast..."
Pigeons catcher Choi Woo-sung's throw zipped knee-high to the second baseman. Field and tag—dead perfect.
But...
"Kim Hu-seong leaps! Clears the tag, lands on his back! Barely holds, hand on the bag!"
Madman. Gu Min-seok thought, staring at me.
"Whoa... Hu-seong's playing Game 7 Korean Series out there. Dodges like that and lives. Passion... Fans eat it up."
"Insane hustle play."
I rose shakily, brushed off, stepped off second a bit, and eyed the pitcher.
Huh...? Gu Min-seok sensed something off. I'd tugged my uniform noticeably.
No signal like that. Knee brush for fastballs. Helmet tap for breaking. Then it hit him.
Hey... Hey, Kim Hu-seong. What now? You've done enough. One hit from the next three scores.
But as Im Jong-hyun wound up, I bolted.
"Runner goes!"
Crazy bastard.
Screee! Fastball. Too late.
But Gu Min-seok swung anyway—to buy me time. Then he staggered in the box on purpose, screening the catcher.
Did my part, Kim Hu-seong. You psycho. Die here, it's on you.
Choi Woo-sung slipped back and fired to third. I slid in; third baseman caught and tagged.
"Safe!"
"Kim Hu-seong lives! Steals another base!"
"Ah... Pigeons battery looks grim. Hu-seong breaches the wall!"
I popped up, glared at the third-base stands briefly, then prepped to score.
...Crazy bastard.