Monsters

The announcers' words rang true for once. Today was the matchup between Lee Ji-seung and Lindblom.

The Giants hadn't completely collapsed even during their rough patches thanks to Lindblom's solid pitching. Just as Kim Kang-jun had grown tremendously, Lee Ji-seung's progress was equally striking. He'd steadily added pitches during games, even developing a changeup. That improved his breaking balls and control, boosting his overall ability, while his velocity kept climbing too. His spin rate—a key strength—was at an insane level. Lindblom was great, but Ji-seung was no slouch now. He led the league with a 2.43 ERA and had gone 5-1 in eight starts. Having nailed his debut as a starter, his confidence was overflowing.

Since we were the visitors, Lindblom took the mound first for his warm-ups. Meanwhile, Kang-jun—who'd just returned to the first team—swung the bat, timing himself to the pitcher's throws. Kim Kang-jun nodded with each pitch, like he was getting a feel for it.

Once Lindblom finished, Kang-jun stepped up to the plate. The fans gave the returning star a huge ovation. I had high hopes for him too.

Lindblom, the Giants' ace, unleashed high-velocity fastballs and a variety of breaking stuff. His imposing frame added raw power, but get too focused on that, and his sharp-dropping breakers would wreck your timing. Kim Kang-jun was perfect for facing that. His elite plate vision was the weapon to counter it.

Lindblom's first pitch tailed off the outer corner. Kang-jun watched it go by. It was well off, no swing needed.

The second did the same.

"Strike!!" But the ump called it a strike. Kang-jun shot a surprised glance at the ump, but umps don't flinch. Hell, he was lucky not to catch a grudge.

Kang-jun had the eyes and bat for it, but his inexperience worried me—he might let this rattle him.

The third was another straight one sliding outside.

Crack! Kang-jun connected, but it died weakly toward first for an out. He trudged back with a dazed look. Same spot as before, but the tail off the plate made his swing miss the barrel.

"Good cut. You're fine."

I patted his shoulder as he entered the dugout. Ump calls can swing games in baseball. Obsess over them, and you lose your own game.

I called to Kim Seong-ha in the on-deck circle. "Seong-ha, looks like the home plate ump's generous on the right side. Test it—if it's wide, crowd the inner half. Spoil the borderline stuff."

"Got it."

Every ump has their own strike zone. Figuring it out early is key—though it changes if they swap umps.

No. 2 hitter Kang Hyun-jun struggled with outer stuff too and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠struck out. As a lefty, unlike Kang-jun, it seemed the ump was calling both sides wide.

Kim Seong-ha grounded out too.

"Damn... zone's way too wide."

Frustration etched Seong-ha's face. He'd waited ages to showcase Kang-jun again, only for the ump's zone to screw them. But that was baseball—we had to adjust. Unless the ump was bought, it'd be the same for the Giants' hitters.

I told Ji-seung heading to the mound to work the edges wide. He'd watched the calls too and nodded.

Ji-seung always meditated about ten seconds on the mound before warm-ups. It gave him a zen vibe, head bowed, muttering like a prayer. He claimed no religion—just meditation—but when he opened his eyes, he looked clearer, sharper.

Whoosh!Thwack!!!

The ball exploded from Ji-seung's hand, slicing the air into the mitt. 146 km/h—not blazing, but the spin made it feel faster.

Sung-hoon, simulating in the on-deck, shook his head at the sight. Even from afar, it looked nasty.

Whoom!! Thwack!!!

An inside heater jammed him. Way more potent than from the circle.

Ji-seung had grown enough for ace duty. One or two more years, and he'd thrive in the majors.

Thwack! Thwack!! Three straight inside, and Sung-hoon whiffed on three pitches.

He walked off shaking his head.

Next, Son A-seong—a monster hitter who'd rarely dipped below .300 outside a couple seasons. Not a big power guy, but insane contact skills, plus speed for doubles. Had to stay sharp.

But Ji-seung's stuff was filthy. Perfect word. He peppered the edges. His command had leaped—who knew?—hitting the same lines that plagued Kang-jun.

"Argh!!!" Son A-seong twisted away from an inside breaker, then raged off fuming after the K.

Hwang Jae-hyun fared no better.

I was stunned too. I'd known his stats were up, but not this dominant.

Lee Ji-seung's window after mowing down three on nine pitches. The "Baseball is fun" mentality captured his vibe perfectly. He wouldn't crack easily. Our hitters were the issue now—or rather, the ump's zone. But navigating that was on the manager.

I shared the ump's tendencies with the dugout guys in real-time. They all nodded—pros adapt quick.

As I coached the on-deck hitters,

Thwack!!

A massive crack drew my eyes. Park Byung-hyun had jumped the gun at the plate and crushed Lindblom's outer pitch for a homer.

Guess my worries were for nothing.