The Win He Deserved
In the long grind of a season, every team eventually produces a pitcher the wins simply refuse to follow.
On our team, that pitcher was Kim Hyun-woo, my senior.
He'd thrown quality starts in his last four outings, and all he had to show for it was two no-decisions and a record of 1-1. The players seemed keenly aware of it, and they'd steeled themselves well before first pitch.
"Let's go, let's go! Today we make Hyun-woo-hyung a winning pitcher!"
"One win for those numbers? Yeah, that's a crime."
"Then how about this—anyone who doesn't get a hit today buys snacks for the whole team?"
"Deal!"
Kwon Jae-hyuk, who'd been listening quietly off to the side, muttered to himself.
"Hold on. So with my three wins, does that technically make me the number three starter?"
"Are you seriously this oblivious?"
"Agh—Coach Kwon!"
He was promptly crushed under Park Jin-mo's heel for that one.
"Aaah! Don't kick me! I'm pitching in two days!"
Watching my senior sacrifice himself(!) for the sake of locker-room morale, I fell deep into thought.
Kim Hyun-woo's standing on this team couldn't be summed up as "a guy who came back from the majors and throws great." He was a franchise icon, and at the same time a man who gave to his teammates without counting the cost. He shared his pitch repertoire and his hard-won experience even with the very rivals competing for his spot, and because of that, his influence in the clubhouse ran deep.
I was no exception to his generosity. He was the one who introduced me to the Driveline Baseball Center, and the one who smoothed my adjustment to the team in a hundred small ways.
While I was helping him run through his bullpen session, I asked.
"Senior, aren't you concerned about your record?"
"Ah, of course it weighs on me."
He adjusted his cap and answered like it was nothing.
"But the moment you drown in it, the game starts slipping away from you even faster."
"That's true."
"Players forget this sometimes, but baseball is a team game in the end. A pitcher facing a hitter feels like a one-on-one duel, but what you can do alone has limits."
He looked at me with a smile.
"You're sharp, Kang Hyuk. You know exactly what I mean."
...I nodded solemnly.
However many hours of batting practice I put in, there was no turning a pitch that dove clean out of the zone into a hit.
Lately, opposing pitchers had been avoiding head-on battles with me more and more, which meant I was reaching base on walks again and again. The frustrating part was that the hitters behind me weren't driving me home. It had gotten bad enough that the manager had bumped me up to the three-hole for today's game.
"That's not me telling you to sacrifice yourself for the team. It's that—for your own sake, if nothing else—I'd rather you never look at your teammates as competitors, or as obstacles."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Satisfied with my answer, my senior began stretching out, unhurried.
"Good afternoon, baseball fans! The Daejeon Hawks take on the Mokdong Stars here at Daejeon Ballpark! What kind of thriller will today bring? I can hardly wait!"
"Heh heh. Judging purely by recent form, you'd have to favor the Daejeon Hawks. They've won three straight, from fifth starter Kwon Jae-hyuk all the way through Dustin."
"Let's see what today has in store. Let's play ball!"
Playing at home, we took the field first.
Kim Hyun-woo showed off his usual mastery from the very first inning.
"Strike!"
Against the leadoff hitter, the duel ran the full count—two balls, two strikes. My senior reached for his out pitch: the curveball.
Whiiish—!
"Strike! You're out!"
"He never even moved the bat. Called strike three!"
"That pitch was in a spot the hitter simply couldn't touch."
"Hah!"
The batter shook his head at a curve that had dropped off the bottom outside corner, and even with the ball in my mitt, I understood exactly how he felt.
Yeah, I couldn't have touched that either.
Under the old human umpires, that pitch would have been ball—and then some. But the ABS system was in place now. The hitter knew protesting was pointless, and he walked back to the dugout with a hollow look on his face.
The batters who followed fared no better.
"Kim Hyun-woo's stuff looks exceptional today, doesn't it?"
"It does. And here's the number three hitter—ground ball straight at the shortstop! Throw to first... and he's out. The Daejeon Hawks retire the side in order!"
On the way back to the dugout after the high-five with my senior, I shed my gear and got ready to hit.
With me batting third today, the table-setters' performance mattered more than ever.
Crack—!
"Oh!"
Leadoff man Lee Won-taek singled his way aboard. Hitting second, Seo Ji-hoon went down on a groundout in front of third—but he managed to move Won-taek over to second.
"Now batting third for the Hawks—Kang Hyuk steps into the box."
"This is a hitter who's been absolutely on fire lately."
Whiiish—
"Ball."
Maybe because first base was open. The opposing battery kept living on the outer half of the plate. They weren't going to issue an intentional walk—but they clearly had no intention of giving me anything hittable either.
So that's the game plan, huh.
I called time to the umpire and crept closer to the plate, pretending to take practice swings. In that motion, I slid my back foot half a step forward from where it usually sat.
It differed slightly from the form I'd drilled in the white expanse of my training space—but from here, I could pick up the pitcher's release that much better, and handle the outside pitch that much more comfortably.
Just stay over the plate a little longer.
I had just resolved to swing at anything that crossed into the zone—
Whiiish—
The pitcher's offering missed its spot and caught the border of the strike zone.
Crack—!
"He pulls it—and the ball just keeps carrying down the line!"
The line drive screamed off the bat so fast that the opposing right fielder's outstretched glove never came close.
"Lee Won-taek scores from second! And Kang Hyuk strolls into second base standing up!"
"Heh heh. All you can do is applaud, really."
"The Hawks strike first, and once again, Kang Hyuk is at the heart of it!"
"He read the outer-half approach from the battery and adjusted his stance before the pitch was even thrown. That's craftiness you don't expect from a rookie."
"And the atmosphere at Daejeon Ballpark grows even hotter!"
After trading our team hand-sign celebration, I watched from the on-deck circle as Adam followed with an RBI single to tack on another run.
Right up until midway through the game, the win had felt like a simple matter of course.
Kim Hyun-woo had already qualified for the victory when he came off the mound in the seventh, and by then the score had stretched to 4-1.
The trouble started right after that.
The man who took over in the eighth as our middle reliever was Cha Woo-jin. True to his nickname—the Bases-Loaded Pervert—he began stacking baserunners one on top of another, neat as bricks.
At that point, we all thought: surely not. This was a senior who, despite a WHIP creeping toward 1.50, kept his ERA pinned in the high 1.00s—decent numbers by any measure.
But today was different.
Two outs, runners on second and third.
Crack—!
"He got it! The ball skims just over the pitcher's head—and it drops in front of the center fielder for a base hit! The runner from second rounds third and scores!"
"Heh heh. And suddenly it's a one-run game? The tying run is standing on base, too."
"This game is far from over!"
The broadcast camera caught Kim Hyun-woo's face in the dugout, wearing the serene expression of a man who had achieved enlightenment.
Thankfully, Cha Woo-jin managed to escape the inning without further damage. But with his head hung in guilt, and the opposition suddenly breathing down our necks at 4-3, the dugout had gone stone cold.
And then, into that silence—
Clap—!
A single pair of hands. Every head in the dugout turned toward the sound.
Its source was Kim Hyun-woo, calmly icing his shoulder.
"Anyone watching would think we're the ones losing."
...Nobody said a word.
"If the game ends like this, we win, don't we?"
He was right. The win condition hadn't been blown yet—and the eighth was ending, which meant the top of our order would lead off the inning, starting from the nine-hole.
Park Jin-mo, who'd been listening quietly, broke the ice.
"Ah, damn. Here I was deliberately not hitting so I could dodge buying snacks. Fine, forget it—I'm getting a hit today. So somebody get on base and make sure the lineup cycles back to me!"
"That's rich, coming from the guy whose swing at that dropping pitch earlier was genuinely embarrassing to watch."
"...You and me. Today. Outside."
"Ack-ack! I surrender! Tap! Tap!"
While Jae-hyuk-hyung, caught in Jin-mo-hyung's headlock, flailed dramatically, Kim Hyeong-jun stepped out of the dugout as the inning's leadoff hitter.
"I'll get on base and be right back!"
"You'd better. Come all the way home and step on that plate."
The air in the dugout had been refreshed. And in the eyes of the hitters waiting for their turn at bat, there burned a fire brighter than at any point in the season.
The Mokdong Stars apparently judged this inning to be the turning point of the game. Trailing by a single run, they made the desperate gamble of summoning their shutdown bullpen corps.
But the Hawks' hitters were every bit as locked in.
"Ball four to the pitcher... and he's hit it!"
"Ground ball to third—oh, they misplayed it!"
"A late throw to first—safe!"
"This has to hurt. Now they're facing the Hawks' top of the order with nobody out and a runner on first."
On what should have been a routine grounder, Hyeong-jun sprinted down the line at full effort and survived—Kwon Jae-hyuk, of all people, had drawn the walk. Then Lee Won-taek worked the count and coaxed a free pass of his own.
The opposing pitcher shook his head, his composure visibly fraying.
"Nobody out, first and second. At this point, the pressure on a pitcher is simply unavoidable."
"He certainly doesn't want to face Kang Hyuk and Adam with the bases loaded."
"Batting second, Seo Ji-hon squares around for the bunt."
"Hmm. Trying to avoid the double play at all costs, perhaps?"
"Here's the pitch—and he pulls the bat back! He's swinging away!"
"Oh, that's lovely!"
"Line drive the other way—this ball finds the gap in left-center for a base hit! The third base coach holds the runner at third!"
"The timing would have been too close to risk the trip home."
"Bases loaded, nobody out. And now stepping into the box—Kang Hyuk!"
I settled into the batter's box and made up my mind to stay loose.
Just don't hit into a double play.
Even a deep fly to the outfield would bring home the go-ahead run, and Adam was waiting behind me. The luxury of options was a rare and wonderful thing.
Feels like it's been a while since I've gone all-out against a pitcher.
Maybe it was my imagination, but there was a flicker of desperation in that stone-faced pitcher's eyes. Every arm I'd faced recently had been running from me—pitching scared, pitching around me. Surely, with the bases loaded and nobody out, he couldn't afford to do the same.
I resolved to jump on the first strike, before the count could ever tilt in his favor.
"The pitcher set—here comes the first pitch."
Whiiish—
TAAAAANG—!
The ball leapt off my bat with a pure, ringing crack, riding a launch angle so beautiful it belonged in a textbook.
"That ball is rocketing—this one is gone... it's over the wall! Grand slam!"
"Heh heh. Simply extraordinary."
"His second grand slam of the season already! Kang Hyuk carves his name, letter by letter, into the memory of every Daejeon Hawks fan!"