Live Batting (2)

I finished off Park Taejeong cleanly with a three-pitch strikeout, then faced two more batters after him.

— Tick.

"Grounder to second."

— Tick.

"Pop-up."

Wild pitches kept firing off every time I went for the putaway pitch. No matter how filthy the stuff was, if it floated over the heart of the plate, contact was inevitable.

Still, the encouraging part was that not a single ball was squared up clean. Even when they put wood on it, the ball either dribbled weakly or floated high into the sky.

In the end, it proved that my current velocity could overcome the Blockhead Thrower penalty to a meaningful degree. That alone made for a pretty satisfying live batting session.

"Okay, Doyoon's stuff looks good. That's enough!"

Once I — the last pitcher scheduled for live BP — had faced my three batters as planned, the practice field slowly settled into a wrap-up atmosphere.

I was rolling my shoulder, shaking off the tension, about to step down off the mound when—

"Hold on a second!"

Someone shouted and came bolting out of the dugout.

"Coach. I want one at-bat against Han Doyoon, sir. Just one."

The player who had come out of the dugout was Kang Daegeun.

At those words, the whole ground — which had gone loose as practice wound down — flinched. The manager stared at Kang Daegeun for a long moment, then turned toward me.

"What do you say, Doyoon?"

I'd already gotten everything I needed out of today's live BP. I'd sharpened my game feel against live hitters, and confirmed that pure stuff could beat the wild pitches. There was no real reason to throw any more.

But—

Kang Daegeun's eyes were burning like an enraged bull locking onto a matador.

Every now and then you run into hitters like that.

Ones who don't flinch at filthy velocity — who instead light up with fight, thinking, I want to hit that pitch. I want to face that pitcher.

Looking at that fire in Kang Daegeun's eyes, I couldn't just walk away either.

"I don't mind."

An angry bull was still just a herbivore.

I was more than confident I could put him down.

Word of the matchup between me and Kang Daegeun must have spread, because players who had already scattered after team practice started drifting back one by one. It was only a practice field with no stands, but the tension felt every bit as thick as a packed stadium.

Kang Daegeun geared up and stepped into the box. He took off his helmet and gave a short bow. I dipped my head slightly in return — a silent agreement to a good battle.

What should I throw for the first pitch…

I fiddled with the pitch com, replaying what Kang Daegeun had shown earlier during live BP.

A clean, compact setup that started from perfect body balance, followed by an explosive swing. He wasn't a big guy, but he extracted the force in his frame with almost shocking efficiency.

The result was exit trajectories that looked like something a 190-centimeter power hitter would produce. The moment the ball met the bat, a heavy crack rang out and the ball kept carrying and carrying.

There was clearly nothing wrong with the swing itself. But Kang Daegeun seemed to have one major weakness.

His eye.

Just looking at the way he was staring me down from the box told me everything. His competitive fire ran way too hot. If a pitch was even close, the bat came out on pure reflex.

Normally, a hitter like that was easy enough to pick off by soft-selling him away.

But if I tried to work him that way—

The fixed 50% wild pitch rate was the problem.

No matter how carefully I aimed away, if a wild pitch triggered, the whole plan went up in smoke. So I needed a slightly different approach.

In that case…

I worked the pitch com and put down a sign for the catcher.

Then, staring straight into Kang Daegeun's still-burning eyes, I threw the first pitch.

— Shiiiiing!

A pitch that rode in tight on Kang Daegeun's hands, brushing past his shoulder. He flinched and took a half-step back.

"Ball!"

The near-miss set the watching players, coaches, and manager murmuring.

"Whoa… is this still practice? Starting with that…"

"Look at his eyes… why is he that intense?"

Ordinarily I wouldn't have come in that close either.

But—

If I throw it this deep, even a miss that drifts over the middle will still look like it's away.

It was a necessary pitch — both to push the hitter as far off the strike zone as possible, and to get that angry bull in front of me even more worked up.

I set up for the second pitch right away.

Count was one ball. Because I'd given up the first-pitch strike, this one absolutely had to find the zone.

Which meant another four-seam fastball — the easiest pitch to command. Location the same as before: up and in. But this time, for a strike.

— Shiiiing!

— Whoosh!

"Strike!"

Luckily, no wild pitch this time either. The ball came in a little lower than I'd intended. Kang Daegeun fired and got the bat out, but it only scraped under the ball.

Whew.

Even after the brushback, he showed zero panic and still attacked the inside pitch. That aggression surprised me a little.

About time for a wild pitch to pop…

Two clean pitches in a row with no wild pitch. Flipping heads twice didn't mean tails was next, but it still left me uneasy.

Ah, whatever.

Worrying wouldn't change anything I could control. All I could do was throw the ball and pray the wild pitch didn't trigger. I went with the pitch I'd planned.

And the moment the ball left my hand—

…!

At the absolute worst possible moment, the wild pitch fired.

A baseball that started riding in on his hands, then slipped and drifted right down the middle of the plate.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Kang Daegeun's bat was already in motion—

— CRACK!

A clean, ringing sound, and the ball vanished behind me in an instant.

Whew…

Kang Daegeun leaned and tracked the flight, then clicked his tongue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in disappointment when the ball finally hooked just outside the left foul pole.

Of all times for a wild pitch — on a slider?

Any pitch that floated middle was dangerous, but a slider was especially brutal. The velocity gap with the fastball wasn't huge, so hitters could still time it on a heater swing, and because so many pitchers threw it, the movement was familiar.

Thankfully, the two four-seamers I'd jammed him with earlier had set him up well enough that he caught it a little out front and fouled it off. Still, that had been way too close.

He's good. No question.

Until now, even when wild pitches triggered, the other hitters hadn't reacted cleanly enough to square anything up. Kang Daegeun alone had fired instantly and put the barrel right on the spot.

Sliders were death on a wild pitch. I'd already thrown too many four-seamers.

That left me with exactly one pitch: the cutter.

But…

A cutter against a right-handed hitter?

The problem was that this was a righty-on-righty battle.

A handful of "cutter masters" who threw the pitch ninety percent of the time would still run it against same-handed hitters, but at my level of command, it was a risky call.

Even with the elbow healed, the command still won't do what I want. Not easy.

Wait — elbow?

The moment the word "elbow" crossed my mind, one pitch surfaced in my head.

The pitch I'd been throwing right before my elbow gave out.

A pitch that was still viable against same-handed hitters, with enough velocity to make reaction tough — but that wasn't a four-seam fastball.

Okay. That one.

I stood the seams vertical and laid my index and middle fingers across them.

Two-seam fastball.

I tried to put it down on the pitch com, but since it wasn't a pitch we'd discussed, there was no button for it. I sent the four-seam signal instead.

Sorry. Do your best to catch it.

I telegraphed a silent apology to the catcher and threw.

Man, they said fifty percent and it really is exactly fifty.

With the wild pitch alert, the ball rode in like a four-seamer, then — right in front of the plate — dropped as if someone had yanked it down and broke hard to the right.

— Shiiiiing!

Of course it got sucked dead into the middle of the zone.

But that pitch—

— Whoosh!

— Thud!

—arrived safely in the catcher's mitt.

A heavy, solid pop of leather.

Kang Daegeun's bat had cut nothing but air.

"Strike three!"

A brief silence.

Then Kang Daegeun slowly lifted his head. A mix of surprise and disbelief sat in his eyes.

…A swing and a miss.

I took one breath, then stepped down off the mound. I walked slowly toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kang Daegeun, who was still standing in the box. He stared at me with the same dumbfounded look.

"…I win, huh?"

Kang Daegeun gazed blankly in my direction, then let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"You throw a two-seamer too, sir?"

I peeled off my glove and shrugged.

"I didn't used to. Just figured I'd try one."