Back on the Mound After Two Months
After our heated duel ended, Kang Daegeun and I headed toward the cafeteria together.
As we talked, though, I noticed something peculiar about the way he spoke.
"Ah, seriously, sticking it right on the inside corner from the first pitch was way too much, sir."
"……Just talk casually. It's fine."
"Ah, this is more comfortable for me. Haha."
It was that stiff military-style polite speech you only ever heard in the army. The more I listened, the more oddly addictive it became.
Over lunch we talked baseball—this and that. True to his burning competitive fire, his passion for the game alone was something else.
"But, hyung-nim, you used to throw a changeup, didn't you?"
"Huh? How do you know that?"
Even if I'd spent two and a half years in the first team, I hadn't exactly been a pitcher with any real presence. The fact that he knew what pitches I'd thrown felt strangely surprising.
Kang Daegeun glanced around, then dropped his voice to a near-whisper.
"Truth is, I'm a Seoul Wales fan."
"Oh, for real?"
"So I watched you a lot on TV, sir."
The Seoul Wales had a thick nationwide fan base, sure, but running into one of them here still felt oddly welcome.
So I checked our surroundings too and spoke quietly.
"Actually, I'm a Wales fan myself."
Kang Daegeun's eyes went round.
"Ah, is that so?"
"Hey, be honest. From a Wales fan's perspective, what kind of pitcher was I?"
"……Can I really say it straight?"
"Honestly."
I nodded, and Kang Daegeun set down his spoon and spoke carefully.
"Well…… to be completely honest, I kept wondering why they even took you in the first round……"
It was so blunt that a laugh burst out of me.
"Hey, I said be honest, not that honest."
"Ah, no, I mean…!"
Kang Daegeun flailed his hands in a panic.
"You know it yourself, hyung-nim…… you were still rehabbing from Tommy John at the draft……"
"That's true."
I snorted a laugh and scooped up another bite of rice.
"Back then even I never thought I'd get picked."
"No matter how high Tommy John success rates are these days, first round is still a bit……"
Kang Daegeun still wore a look of pure incomprehension.
"The communities went crazy then too, didn't they?"
"Yeah. I read every single one of those threads."
The memory made me chuckle again.
"They were fighting nonstop. One side going, 'Tommy John's no big deal these days—Han Doyoon fell all the way to the tenth pick and you still don't take him?' and the other side, 'Even so, rehab isn't even finished yet—first round? Really?' Stuff like that."
"……Yeah."
Kang Daegeun nodded. The sight of him suddenly sparked a mischievous urge.
"You were one of those guys leaving the hate comments, weren't you?"
"Eh?! Me?!"
Kang Daegeun jumped like he'd been electrocuted.
"No, I never do that kind of thing! I actually thought it was a good pick until the moment they took you!"
"Ah, so then after you saw me pitch you left the 'why did they draft him' hate comments?"
"No! I only lurked, I swear!"
The same kid who'd glared at me like he wanted to devour me in the batter's box was now flustered and scrambling—it was way too funny.
"Pffft—haha."
Laughter spilled out of me.
"I really never left any hate comments……"
Kang Daegeun kept defending himself with an utterly wronged expression. He was so serious about it that another laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
"I get it, I get it. I was just messing with you."
"……You really startled me, sir."
We kept trading secret Wales stories until, before we knew it, our trays were completely empty. Even while carrying them back, the Wales talk never stopped.
"Man, I wonder what it'd feel like to face the Wales."
I muttered it half to myself, and Kang Daegeun immediately caught it.
"Right? I wonder too, sir."
"You haven't done it yet? You must've played some second-team games against them."
"Eh, that's totally different, sir."
Kang Daegeun shook his head with a small snort of laughter. A strange mix of excitement and tension sat on his face.
"It's not Wales Park, is it?"
I nodded at that for a moment.
"True enough."
We were heading down the corridor to return our trays when I spotted someone walking toward us from a distance.
It was Team Leader Cheon Sojin.
……Does she usually eat lunch this late?
In my memory she always walked into the cafeteria right at noon on the dot. That was why I'd often finished training around then and eaten with her. Today, though, she was coming in at one in the afternoon.
I was staring at her, puzzled, when—
—swoosh.
In that instant Cheon Sojin turned her head. Our eyes met. It lasted barely a second, yet somehow it stretched long.
……Ah.
The image of Cheon Sojin in the bullpen, wearing that dissatisfied look over the GM's decision, suddenly flashed through my mind. The moment it did, I looked away without thinking.
"Doyoon."
The familiar voice reached me. When I lifted my head, Cheon Sojin had stopped right in front of me.
With that same beautiful smile as always.
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes. Just finished."
I answered as evenly as I could.
Cheon Sojin gave a short nod.
"Good. I heard you were moved to the second team."
"Yes."
A dry tone slipped out before I could stop it.
Cheon Sojin looked at me for a beat, then tilted her head slightly.
"……Was training not going well today?"
"No."
"Condition's okay, right?"
"I'm fine."
The conversation was flowing the way it always did, yet the air felt strangely awkward. My speech had come out stiffer than usual, and Cheon Sojin seemed to be trying to figure out the dissonance.
"……Is that so? Well, that's a relief then."
"……Thank you."
Only then did I manage a short, polite reply, but my voice stayed rigid to the end. Cheon Sojin still looked puzzled, yet when I started walking she didn't try to stop me. And so our conversation ended, leaving only that awkward air behind.
Time flew. Before I knew it, my start day had arrived.
I'd been following the second-team games, shouting "Fighting!" from the dugout with everyone else, and by now I'd grown pretty familiar with the other players.
"Hyung-nim. If you pitch well today, you go straight back to the first team, right?"
Kang Daegeun asked while stretching. Same military polite speech as always.
"Probably?"
"Haa…… I'm jealous."
Kang Daegeun rolled one shoulder and let out a small sigh.
"I want to go up soon too."
"You will for sure. Your second-team numbers are solid."
"I hope so."
Kang Daegeun smiled quietly and focused on his stretching again.
Then the catcher who'd be battery-mates with me today, Kim Gyeongmo, walked into the dugout.
"Doyoon, how's the condition today?"
"Not bad."
Kim Gyeongmo was two years my senior and, in the second team, basically the de facto captain. Whether it was setting the team atmosphere or steadying the young pitchers' nerves, he was always the one holding the center.
"Good. Max four innings, they said?"
"Yes, that's right."
The umpires were starting to come onto the field and both managers were submitting their lineups—game time was approaching.
Kim Gyeongmo finished putting on his gear, dusted off his mitt once, and tapped my shoulder.
"Doyoon."
"Yes."
"Just watch the over-effort. Don't get tense and muscle up for no reason—throw it like practice."
"Got it."
"Good."
Kim Gyeongmo nodded with a smile.
"Today we go exactly at your rhythm. Just trust me."
We'd only been working together for a week, yet a strange sense of stability radiated from him. I slid my glove back on and regulated my breathing.
This was a condition-check start, but I had zero intention of half-assing it.
Now it was really time to take the mound.
The Daejeon Titans' leadoff hitter stepped into the box.
The plan Kim Gyeongmo and I had put together last night rose naturally in my head.
"Your command isn't perfect yet, so let's just pound them with fastballs as much as possible. Cutter to lefties, four-seam to righties."
Simple, but clear strategy.
And the batter now standing in was a lefty.
Kim Gyeongmo's low voice came through the pitch-com in my ear.
"Cutter."
At the same time he set up tight to the body. The angle of the mitt held low and open, the short hand signal—everything felt steady and secure.
I drew a slow breath in. I could feel the flow of air as I inhaled and exhaled, even the rhythm of my heartbeat.
A quiet so complete it almost felt like practice. But that quiet was what put me at ease.
Okay. Think of it as practice and just throw.
Eyes locked on Kim Gyeongmo's mitt, I slowly lifted my left leg.
First real game in two months.
So I focused even harder on every single movement of my body.
—shiiiiik.
The ball bored in low and sharp. A trajectory that dropped exactly onto the low inside corner.
Good. First pitch didn't float as a mistake.
A cutter that finished with a slight inward break and buried itself into the catcher's mitt. The mitt thumped heavily.
The opposing batter froze with the bat still on his shoulder. He never even reacted—just stood there locked up.
"Strike!"
The umpire's call rang out across the park. It was nothing like the lifeless strike calls the coaches gave during live BP. Heavy, clear—the real echo of a game.
I lowered my glove under my chin and slowly let out a breath.
Yeah. This feeling.
An empty stadium.
But that very quiet was perfect for feeling the pitching rhythm.
The first pitch had been perfect.
I thought about rolling straight into a quick tempo for the next one, but for now I decided to savor the aftertaste of that first pitch just a little longer.