Waiting for Kang-jun's Return
The game against the Twins unfolded in a tense back-and-forth battle. Heading into the top of the fifth, the score stood at 3-2, with us trailing by a single run. Starter Song Young-shin had been giving up runs bit by bit, but our hitters had clawed their way back just as relentlessly. The backup batters had stepped up in ways no one expected.
Ko Jong-hoon led off again in the fifth, already sporting a multi-hit game. Sosa, the opposing pitcher, fired fastballs, but Jong-hoon made them look easy, lining singles off them regularly. By the top of the fifth, Sosa had thrown 80 pitches—high for just two runs allowed. Our hitters had grinded him down with stubborn at-bats. Sosa slung mid-to-late 150s heat, but the velocity came at the cost of command. Still, his mental toughness kept walks low; he'd pound the zone when needed. Having pitched for the Heroes last year, our guys knew his game inside out, which let them battle deep into counts.
Shwooo!Pang!! A sharp crack echoed as the ball dove into Jong-hoon's body side.
"Strike!!" the umpire bellowed with energy.
Sosa wasn't getting run support like he did with us, racking up more losses than wins, but his stuff held firm. The second pitch veered wide off the outer edge—his command was spotty, up and down. Even so, today it was sharper than usual. In modern baseball debates about velocity versus control, I was firmly team velocity. No matter how pinpoint the location, a flat fastball gets crushed. Plus, high heat makes off-speed look nastier.
Shwooo!Pang!!! Another body-side heater—this time Jong-hoon couldn't touch it. Two strikes, one ball. For a contact wizard like him to whiff meant serious quality.
His stuff looked even livelier in the fifth than the first four innings. Durability was his calling card. If only his command matched, I thought—he could've been elite. He could've gone seven or eight if he didn't rack up his own pitch count.
Sosa's fifth pitch came straight down the middle. Jong-hoon's bat flew out, but it was a changeup. After four straight fastballs, the breaker fooled him for strike three. Jong-hoon trudged back to the dugout, face etched with regret.
Next up: Kang Hyun-jun. He had elite plate vision and contact skills, but today, solid hits died to great defense or lineouts. He stepped in with sharp eyes, shadow-swinging in the on-deck circle to time Sosa. Then he pounced on the first pitch—a body driller pulled with a big hip turn. The ball sailed over the first baseman's head, trickling toward the right-field corner. The outfielder raced over, but it hugged the fence. Hyun-jun's wheels got him to second standing.
Our three-hole, Lee Geun-taek, had lost his everyday spot to Yoo Jun-han, Schneider, and Hyun-jun, but he'd earned the start today. As a utility vet and captain, he led the young guys well. No upside left—he'd peaked, decline ahead. Pros are ruthless; spots go to competition. Today, he'd singled and flied out. Now, in his third at-bat, his fire still burned. He could handle Sosa's heat but battled anyway. With Sosa at 90 pitches, Geun-taek seemed to think he could drag him to six and force an early hook.
Did Sosa sense it? His pitches started missing. He needed five scoreless to qualify for the win, but his limit loomed. Geun-taek worked a walk after seven pitches.
One out, runners on first and second: cleanup hitter Park Byung-hyun. Last year, he'd smashed 52 homers for his third straight crown. Ten already this season, batting .340—peak four-hole stuff. Jamsil's big yard hurt, but he ironically hit more on the road than homer-friendly Mokdong. Haters called our park "Mokrun," but Byung-hyun was legit. His stoic march to the plate alone spooked pitchers. Even Sosa, with his zone-filling guts, shied from the heart against him. Get it there, and it was gone.
But shaky command betrayed him. Byung-hyun crushed a meatball down the pipe, tossing his bat skyward as he circled the bases. A go-ahead three-run blast. The crowd erupted— we weren't a fan-favorite, but our hot streak drew road support, especially in Seoul.
5-3 now. Sosa fanned Schneider and got Park Won-dong on a grounder, but his face soured. Song Young-shin, smiling in the bottom half, had dodged a loss and eyed the W if he escaped. A bullpen vet turned starter this year, he held the fifth slot despite his age. Just 56 pitches into the fifth, thanks to Twins' aggressive swings yielding quick groundouts.
Leadoff hitter Lee Young-gyu swung at the first pitch; his four-hole drive died routine to Geun-taek in center. Five-hole Lee Young-jin took two pitches to strike out. Six-hole Lee Young-gyu (namesake of the four-hole) went down swinging in three. Sixty-two pitches through five—early wobbles fixed by hitter generosity, not his own grit. If I managed them, my head would explode, I thought. When do they plan to contend?
No use dwelling on rivals. I focused on us. In the sixth, we torched reliever Jeong Hun-chan, kicking off May strong. Seven- and eight-hole Seo Dong-hoon and Kim Su-ji contributed solidly. But my real hopes rode on Kim Kang-jun rising from Double-A.
Ten days? He'd grown plenty in three months of infield drills. His learning curve made it feasible. For a first-place finish and Korean Series title, we needed his bat locked in. I'd gotten regular updates from the farm director: over .500 there, no sweat since his demotion was fielding-related. I'd tasked him with second and first. With Byung-hyun's pace, he'd snag a fourth straight homer title—and MLB eyes meant he'd bolt. Succession planning was key.
Farm boss said his glove wasn't polished but wouldn't hurt at either spot. Nine days till Kang-jun's return. With core guys gassed and Seo Geon-cheol hurt, we had to hold the fort.