Korean Series (3)
The bottom of the first inning began with the Heroes leading 2-0. There wasn't much to worry about since today's starting pitcher was Lee Ji-seung. He took the mound, meditated briefly, then warmed up—and even from the dugout, the sheer velocity of his pitches felt electric. His current stamina sat at 80, not perfect, but as recovered as it could be.
The Daegu Lions' leadoff hitter was Gu Ja-yoon. Drafted by the Lions in 2012, he'd finally made the first-team roster this year and exploded with a .349 batting average. He'd also swiped 17 bags, proving himself a true table-setter. Young players like him reacted quickly to fastballs, so pitchers usually attacked with breaking stuff—but true to form, Lee Ji-seung's first pitch was a four-seam fastball.
Lee Ji-seung's strength lay in his rock-solid mentality and overpowering stuff that pinned hitters back. The inside four-seamer drew Gu Ja-yoon's bat right away.
Tick! It looked like perfect timing, but the ball fouled off disappointingly. Gu Ja-yoon fouled off the next two pitches as well. With no balls and two strikes, Park Won-dong called for a breaking ball. Lee Ji-seung nodded and fired a changeup.
It was perfectly located, dropping even lower from a slightly low zone. In a two-strike count, no hitter could hold back—but Gu Ja-yoon didn't swing. Ball four. The next pitch, a four-seamer, drew another miraculous cut, fouling it off again. The leadoff man was already grinding out an at-bat. He was tenacious, no doubt.
Pitch six was breaking stuff again—a slider that, from a lefty's view, started away and dove in. Perfectly placed outside, it was prime for a looking strikeout.
Crack!! But Gu Ja-yoon reached out to a pitch off the outer edge and poked a single into shallow left.
"Uwaaah!!" Gu Ja-yoon pumped his fist toward his dugout after the hit, firing up the Lions' momentum. Lee Ji-seung, though, looked unflappable. He knew his stuff was sharp; sometimes, hitters just connect.
No. 2 hitter Bae Hyung-seop stepped up, and Lee Ji-seung eyed the runner on first—plenty fast enough to steal. But Gu Ja-yoon showed no intent to run. Bae Hyung-seop battled the heavy four-seamers like his teammate, fouling them off relentlessly before laying off a breaking ball for a walk.
Even to my eye, Lee Ji-seung's pitches were filthy, yet the Lions were handling them masterfully.
Cleanup hitter Navarro followed, fouling off four-seamers before ripping a breaking ball into the gap between center and right. Gu Ja-yoon easily scored from second. Now it was no outs, runners on second and third—a dire jam.
Next up: No. 4, Choi Woo-hyung. A monster slugger with elite contact skills and plate vision, boasting a sky-high baseline OPS. The Lions seemed to read breaking-ball timing like they were stealing signs. First pitch: four-seamer.
Crack!! He reached for the outside heater. Thankfully, a foul. Great timing, but Lee Ji-seung's velocity pushed the bat back.
Second pitch: slider. Choi Woo-hyung watched. I instinctively glanced at Navarro on second—but he didn't budge. No sign-stealing.
Then how are they picking breaking-ball timing?
Staring hard at Choi Woo-hyung brought up his status window.
Mental: 'Raises elbow when gripping the ball?'
What the hell? And look— As I watched Lee Ji-seung grip the ball in his glove, he subtly lifted his elbow. The catcher's sign called for an elevated breaking ball.
"No!!" The moment I pieced it together, Lee Ji-seung unleashed it—a breaking ball dropping from up high for a strike. But a smirk crept across Choi Woo-hyung's face as his bat whipped through.
Thwack!!! I knew it was gone the instant it connected.
Lee Ji-seung crumpled on the mound after the homer. He couldn't fathom why his good stuff kept getting tagged. The Lions had sniffed out his breaking-ball timing from a tiny tell in his motion: when gripping off-speed stuff, the young pitcher—still green as a hurler—habitually lifted his elbow higher. The Lions' staff had caught it first.
We should've spotted that ourselves. Our failure. But damn, Lions skipper Ryu Il-jung's eagle eye was something to respect.
Choi Woo-hyung crossed the plate, putting us down 4-2. I bolted to the mound. As manager, my arrival drew the whole defense in, pitching coach at my side.
The announcers had it wrong—I wasn't there to soothe. I needed to tip Lee Ji-seung off about the tell.
"Ji-seung-ah."
"Manager, I'm sorry."
"No. Not your fault. You know how you lift your elbow gripping sliders or changeups?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't freak out. Hide it from them. You're doing it unconsciously on breaking balls—they've noticed."
"Ah... That explains it..."
He'd sensed something off too.
"We'll flip it now. After two outs on fastballs, show the tell on purpose—they'll bite thinking off-speed. Reverse for breaking stuff too. No elbow lift. Got it?"
"Yes, sir. I'll do it."
He nodded firmly.
"Good. Fight!" I patted his butt and headed down.
"Whoa, Manager... How'd you spot that? Amazing," pitching coach Son Hyuk-soo said, shaking his head in awe.
But I couldn't smile. They caught it first. I had miles to go as manager—tons to learn.
No. 5, Park Min-seok, stepped in. Per plan, Lee Ji-seung racked up two strikes with heaters. Then, deliberately, he lifted his elbow gripping the ball. Park Min-seok smirked—expecting breaking stuff.
High fastball, letter-high heat. Park Min-seok whiffed big, mistaking it for a dropper.
"Strike!!" Three pitches, three strikes. Finally.
Lee Ji-seung's face eased. Park Min-seok tilted his head, baffled, as he trudged away.
No. 6, Lee Sung-yeop, watched a dropping breaker for a looking K in two strikes. No. 7, Park Yi-han, assumed fastball from the still elbow—whiffed hard and fell over.
Three straight strikeouts.
Down 4-2, our guys weren't deflated—they burned brighter. Now it felt like the Korean Series. Kim Sung-min's fire was evident topping the second. Figaro had solid run support and looked relaxed facing our No. 7, a bottom-of-the-order bat.
But our bottom wasn't ordinary.
Crack! Kim Sung-min lashed Figaro's four-seamer for a hit, igniting our comeback.