Meddling Bang! Bang!!
Bang! Bang!! A ball clocking over 140 km/h flies straight into my glove. Each time, it lets out a sound like the glove's about to burst. I loved that noise.
I was a bullpen catcher, but I hadn't given up on my dream of becoming a player, so I'd asked the manager and ended up handling bullpen duties in 2nd army games too. After those games wrapped up, I'd rush straight to Daejeon Eagles Stadium. Luckily, bullpen catchers were only needed from the 5th inning on at the earliest, so the timing worked out. Well... if the starter collapsed early, other catchers would step in for me, so I was getting some consideration there.
Either way, my routine was to head to Seosan Stadium bright and early for 2nd army training, catch in the bullpen during their games, then hustle back to Daejeon for 1st army bullpen work. I'd get home as early as midnight or as late as 2 a.m., so it was physically demanding—but it was the path I'd chosen, and they were accommodating me, so I had no right to complain.
The pitcher throwing to me right now was Lee Dong-gun. He'd come over from the Daegu Lions to the Daejeon Eagles this year. In a game against the Incheon Wyverns, he'd given up 6 runs in just 2 innings and gotten yanked early, earning a demotion back to 2nd army. He could fire fastballs up to about 145 km/h with excellent control. Seemed solid enough, but once he got on the mound, his pitches lacked bite, leading to a high batting average against.
As I watched him closely, his status window appeared beside his senior teammate's.
At 32, he was on the older side, but man, he worked hard. His potential wasn't fully realized yet. Sometimes it maxes out and then declines with age, but since he'd just arrived, I had no way of knowing for sure.
There was a note in his status window. These notes popped up occasionally during training or when something stood out. But who was I, a mere bullpen catcher, to give advice to pros? Even coaches hesitated to butt in sometimes. If I spoke up, it'd probably just piss them off.
Bang! Another ball slammed into my mitt. It was fast, but it didn't have that heavy thud. He tilted his head after the pitch too.
"What's up? Something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh... no. My control's been shaky lately..."
Before I knew it, my mouth was moving. "Uh... how about trying to bring your release point a bit forward?"
"What? Won't that mess up my control even more...?"
He was right. Moving the release point forward usually boosted speed at the cost of accuracy. But the status window didn't seem like it was lying.
"Uh... your pitches are fast and all, but they lack a bit of weight... Whoops...!" I'd crossed the line without thinking. The air turned icy in an instant. He was a 7-year senior, after all.
Damn... did I just dig my own grave?
"You feel that way too?"
But his response was the opposite of what I expected—a self-deprecating tone.
"Sorry, sunbaenim."
I shot to my feet and bowed. "Whoa, no, no. I wasn't mad at you. I've been feeling it lately too... Can you keep giving me feedback?"
From his words, I could tell he was desperate for a breakthrough, even if it came from a bullpen catcher's mouth.
"Uh... well, your release point's a bit late compared to standard, so maybe the spin rate's suffering?"
I explained based on the feel from my mitt.
"Hmm..." He pondered it.
"Alright, let's try again. Catch."
He went into his windup and threw. It missed where I'd set the target—control worse, but speed way up.
"Sunbaenim... you focused so much on the release point that your extension pushed too far forward?"
"Oh! Like that? One more..."
Lee Dong-gun kept throwing to me. Finally, he hit 148 km/h, and the pitches landed right where I wanted.
"Th-this... is really me? It actually worked?"
He gawked at the speed gun. He'd grasped at straws with me, but finding real progress shocked him.
And then his status window updated.
His stats had jumped by a whopping 13 points.
"Hey, Jin-ho! Thanks, man. I'll buy you a proper meal sometime."
"No need, sunbaenim."
He slapped my back happily, grinning ear to ear. Soon after, his strong 2nd army showings got him called up to the 1st team.
And then came May 17, 2014, game day against the Incheon Wyverns. The matchup stayed tight until the 8th, when our team suddenly faltered. He'd been warming up in the bullpen, glancing at the field anxiously as things went south.
Bae Su-young, our reliable middle reliever, loaded the bases with walks and hits. We were up 4-2, but two quick runs tied it at 4-4, and now it was 1 out, bases loaded. The manager yanked him, and Lee Dong-gun took the mound.
After his final warm-up toss, he said to me, "Jin-ho, I got a good feeling today. If we win, big bro's treating everyone."
"Yes! Fight on, sunbaenim!! Bullpen catcher's clocking out for the day!!"
My cheer meant finish strong. He flashed me a grin as he headed out—first time I'd seen the usually stoic guy smile.
Top of the 8th, 1 out, bases loaded, score tied 4-4. Do-or-die for the Daejeon Eagles. His solid relief outings since promotion had earned him this crucial spot. We needed his cool head and control.
He climbed the mound, took a deep breath. The batter was Incheon Wyverns' second baseman, Na Hwan-ju. In a bases-loaded jam, his power could shine—even a sac fly scores a run.
He fired: a tight inside fastball at 149 km/h. The crowd buzzed. It was nasty. Na flinched back, but the ump called strike.
Next: a slider hugging the body then diving in. From the righty's view, it darted too far inside to touch. Two pitches, two strikes.
Lee Dong-gun stayed composed. The third pitch went outside, but Na, gun-shy from the slider, chased it. Crack! Weak contact rolled to third baseman Song Min-gwang. He charged, snagged it, and fired home—no time for a double play with the slow roller.
"Out!"
The catcher grabbed it and threw to first. "Safe!!"
Close, but one out without a run. Things seemed smooth until the next batter, Kim Min-kang. Incheon needed runs too, and even his contact struggles turned gritty.
"Argh!! That's gotta be a strike!!"
Teammates groaned. Lee Dong-gun's pinpoint control painted corners, but the ump kept calling balls. Bases loaded meant a walk scored, and even the unflappable pitcher's eyes showed frustration—strikes called balls, perfect pitches fouled off. Finally, a ball judgment forced in a run. 5-4 Incheon.
We'd flipped the momentum with a grounder to third, only for it to darken again. And stepping up now? Jo Dong-hwan, already 3-for-3.