18. The First Game (2)
After cleanup hitter Kim Tae-hoon smacked a single, fifth batter Kim Eun-kyung and sixth man Kang Si-hak both grounded out to end the inning. But we'd already plated two runs in the first, so the vibe was still solid.
Alvis took the mound in the second and shut down the Bears clean again. Yoo Gwan-hee seemed to have his head back on straight from the second onward, retiring our 7-8-9 hitters without a man on.
By the third, Alvis looked thrilled up there on the bump. For once, he had run support and a lead to work with. The Bears' leadoff man was their No. 7, catcher Yang Ui-jin. Even batting seventh, the guy had pop, so we had to be careful. But was Alvis riding high on overconfidence? Yang crushed a straight fastball that had tailed right down the middle, sending it screaming to left-center.
The ball dropped in a spot neither the left fielder nor center could reach, rolling all the way to the wall. It was crushed. Yang wasn't the fastest, but the ballpark was so perfect he strolled into second standing up. That's when Alvis started struggling again.
His fastball lacked zip, so it wasn't doing the job as a putaway pitch. Alvis was the type who got guys out by inducing contact rather than strikeouts. Fine with the bases empty, but with a runner on, he started nibbling, trying to avoid the zone. Even with the catcher pounding his mitt, signaling to just attack, Alvis couldn't pound the strike zone.
He walked the No. 8 hitter, Kim Ho-jae. Next up was No. 9, Oh Il-jae—another power threat, ramping up the tension. Crack! Oh took a mighty rip, and the ball rocketed toward third. Song Min-gwang snagged the sharp grounder awkwardly but fired to first anyway. Oh wasn't speedy, and it was a hot smash that could've been played routinely, but maybe Song thought it was tougher than it was—he rushed the throw and sailed it wide.
The ball skipped away behind first, untouched. What should've been an easy one-out play turned into an error. The runners tagging from third and second saw it scoot away and bolted for home and third. "Jeong Mo-beom, what the hell are you doing?!" I yelled at our catcher, who was just standing there dumbfounded at the plate.
In that spot, with a throw coming home, the catcher backs up behind first. But he'd frozen. Because of it, even Oh Il-jae—who was just sprinting to first—tagged and motored to second. One miscue, and we'd coughed up the run. Jeong finally realized his screw-up and hustled over, but the run had already scored.
"Fuuuck!" Alvis swore, watching our fielders botch it. That liner to third had double-play potential, but we'd blown it—not just blown it, we'd handed them the game on a platter. Alvis's focus was cracking.
"Pitching coach, mind heading to the mound?" I said to Jeong Cheol-min, our new first-team pitching coach fresh from the second army.
He looked reluctant. "Uh... yeah, sure. I'll go check."
He couldn't go full casual on me since I was the manager, but he trudged up anyway. After a long chat with the interpreter, he came back.
"What'd he say?"
"Eh... just that he'll try harder. You know."
"Did you settle his head?"
"His head? Pros handle that themselves."
I'd told him to buck up Alvis's mentality, but he'd just chit-chatted? My blood boiled. I didn't know the exact exchange, but he wasn't giving me a straight report, so that's how it landed. I hadn't proven myself as manager yet—no need to snap at the pitching coach. I swallowed the anger rising in my gut.
But Alvis imploded after that. We surrendered five in the third alone.
"Dong-gun for the fourth. Get him ready."
"Huh? Already? He's only at 70 pitches—let's see a bit more?"
Even after I called for the hook, Jeong pushed to stick with him.
"You wanna run the show? Change him."
Irked by his attitude, I shut it down firm. "F... fine. Your call, skipper."
Grumbling the whole way, he headed to Lee Dong-gun. Time to rein in these coaches soon, I thought. But I wasn't there yet—patience for now.
In the bottom of the third, Lee Yong-gyun grounded to an infielder, Jeong Woo-geun singled, but Pi-eo and Kim Tae-hoon went down, ending the frame. Dong-gun, loose in the pen, jogged to the mound when his number came up. I met him on the way.
"Long relief today. I trust you."
Dong-gun grinned and thumped his chest with his glove. "Skipper, you got it."
Lee Dong-gun's warm-ups looked sharp in the fourth. His stamina seemed solid, so I handed him the reins. The leadoff hitter was Yang Ui-jin again, back atop after exploding for runs last inning.
Dong-gun stared him down coolly. And the results? Dominant. His stuff was biting extra today, velocity up, command pinpoint—jamming hitters in tough spots, racking up Ks one by one. When the ball was on, even ugly swings resulted in weak grounders or pop flies.
He mowed through the fourth, fifth, and sixth clean. Our bats strung some looks together but couldn't score. Still up 5-2, but the Bears looked antsy. Dong-gun wasn't buckling.
Yoo Gwan-hee climbed the hill for the sixth. He'd thrown 85 through five, still gassed and nasty. After spotting us two early, he'd been lights-out since.
Our leadoff in the bottom sixth: Lee Yong-gyun, up for the fourth time. He'd walked once, grounded into two double plays—no hits yet. Maybe rattled by Dong-gun's gem, he glowered at Yoo stone-faced.
Yoo fired back, painting corners. Yong-gyun fouled off the tough ones, laid off the garbage, grinding to a full count. Eight pitches already. Rattled by Yong-gyun's cuts in the first, Yoo bore down this time, determined not to yield.
But Yong-gyun kept spoiling the good stuff. Twelve pitches in, Yoo gritted his teeth—and the heater leaked middle. "There it is!" I shouted, spotting the mistake.
Yong-gyun, fouling off the edges all at-bat, unloaded on the hanger. Thwack! Crisp contact, ball screaming off the bat. After 13 pitches, Yoo surrendered a double, face like stone. Total: 98 pitches on one batter.
The Bears signaled for the pen. Clinging to a 5-2 lead, they went to their fireman early. Enter Beon-su-jin, the flamethrower who followed Yoo often—hitters struggled to adjust. Holding a sub-4.00 ERA, he was their closer.
But veteran Jeong Woo-geun stepped in—no sweat. He'd gone 2-for-3 today, feeling it. Beon-su-jin's first offering: 155 km/h heat. Woo-geun took it, then laid off the second—barreled it up the middle between short and second.
Yong-gyun bolted on contact. Center fielder Jeong Su-jin charged in, snagged it, and rifled home. Third-base coach waved Yong-gyun home hard; he trusted his wheels and flew.
Razor-close. Yang Ui-jin blocked the lane with one foot, tracked the throw with his glove hand. The second it popped, he swiped at Yong-gyun's waist. Headfirst slide—Yong-gyun and catcher tangled. All eyes on the ump.
"S... safe!" The ref spread his arms wide.
"Video! Video!" Yang screamed for replay, insisting his tag beat the runner. But Yong-gyun hustled back confident. "I beat it easy. No doubt."
The guy's a wizard at executing—we watched the screen, buzzing.