The Final Game of the Season (2)
The next batter, the number-three hitter Park Taewon, was a completely different type of hitter from Kim Dohyeon. Where Kim Dohyeon thrived on power battles, Park Taewon was a patient hitter who could wait in silence until the pitch he wanted arrived.
That was why, even against my relentless outside attack, he never flinched and calmly worked the count.
Whoosh!
"Ball!"
On the seventh pitch, he laid off a slider that drifted outside for a walk.
It was a shame, but this was baseball—not a one-on-one duel between Park Taewon and me. There was no reason to go head-to-head against one of the few dangerous hitters on the other side. Even if I wasn't openly pitching around him, the smartest play was never to give him anything good to hit.
And as if to prove that choice right, I cleanly retired the next batter and wrapped up the top of the first without incident.
"Nice pitching."
When I came back to the dugout, the players offered light words and high-fives. Back when I'd first arrived, a scoreless inning would have drawn a bit of fuss from all around—but everyone seemed used to it now. Their reactions were pretty muted.
"You're going seven today."
Kim Gyeongmo tossed it out as he pulled off his catcher's mask. As if pitching through the sixth was a given, he was already talking about the seventh from the very first inning.
"Hey, it's still the first."
I put on a bit of a show of reluctance, but I didn't actively deny it either.
Ever since joining the Flyers, every team I'd faced had been no pushover. First-place Seoul Wales, second-place Daejeon Titans, fourth-place Busan Mariners. Against those powerhouse lineups, I'd gone six innings, 6.2, and five respectively.
And today's opponent was… the eighth-place Suwon Storms.
Aside from the two-hole Kim Dohyeon and the three-hole Park Taewon, their lineup's firepower was clearly a step—no, two steps—below those three teams.
…So of course a thought like this came naturally.
Against an eighth-place team… seven innings—or maybe even more—might be within reach?
The Flyers' half of the first passed without much to show for it. Just before I slipped my glove back on and headed out for the top of the second, I muttered to myself.
Starting from the five-hole… I can probably ease off a bit this inning.
Looking down the order from the fifth hitter on, that thought was inevitable. The rest of their lineup was full of veterans well past their mid-thirties—you could practically call it a retirement home.
Of course, surviving this long meant they were strong in their own right. Experience, craftiness, crisis management—advantages young players couldn't easily match.
But the problem was… none of that strength showed up in this year's numbers. They'd all been solid players in their prime, but now there wasn't even a shadow of those glory days left. They were barely hanging on at league-average level.
In short, they weren't "crafty veterans" still combining skill and experience. They were "twilight veterans," the kind for whom thinking about retirement wouldn't be strange at all.
That was Suwon Storms' five through nine.
The fifth hitter, Noh Hyeondo, stepped into the box.
In his prime, Noh Hyeondo had been the league's best—no, one of the all-time best—third basemen on defense, and at the plate he'd routinely posted twenty-plus home runs and an OPS around .850. There was a time when he was rated even higher than our captain, Kwak Daehwi: a complete third baseman.
But now… even if his defense was still solid, his hitting had clearly fallen apart. His bat speed, which had only ever been average, had dropped into the bottom ten percent, and with it his power had evaporated to the point where even a .700 OPS was a struggle. The old intimidation was gone from his swing.
I was sure I didn't need to put much on it. I threw the first pitch at about seventy percent.
First pitch: a 149 km/h four-seam fastball.
It wasn't particularly well-located, and it wasn't the mid-150s heater I usually threw. But Noh Hyeondo just watched it go by.
"Strike!"
"…Hoo."
Noh Hyeondo let out a heavy sigh, stepped out of the box for a moment, and took a practice swing.
Four-seam.
Second pitch, another four-seamer. Still around seventy percent.
Crack!
This time Noh Hyeondo's bat reacted. But it wasn't squared up. The ball rolled weakly toward shortstop Kang Daegeun.
Thud!
The ball had so little on it that Kang Daegeun charged in quickly.
"Out!"
A groundout to short. One out.
I adjusted my cap slightly and caught my breath.
Yeah. Nothing special.
Sixth hitter Park Gwangseop and seventh hitter Min Hojun weren't much different. In their heyday I would have been on high alert facing them, but now both of their swings felt like they were barely catching up to the ball.
There was no need to throw hard four-seamers or crafty off-speed pitches. Just pounding the strike zone with decent four-seamers and sliders was enough.
The balls either rolled weakly or floated up, and the infielders handled them as easily as if it were practice.
"Out!"
Inning over.
Coming off the mound, I was surprised at how light I felt.
Before the top of the third, I walked to the mound with lighter steps than usual. Body and mind both felt completely at ease.
"Hyung-nim, you look like you're in a really good mood today!"
Kang Daegeun called out playfully.
"Yeah. I've got a bit of room to breathe today."
I felt the corner of my mouth lift without meaning to.
Kwak Daehwi looked at me with a worried expression.
"…Still, don't get too complacent. Veterans aren't veterans for nothing. They've got that one big swing in them."
He warned me, but even those words didn't really land.
…Honestly, I just didn't think it would happen.
The swings I'd seen from the Storms' lower order in the second inning weren't fast, and they weren't finding the barrel either. They just looked genuinely easy.
So the only thought in my head was that I just needed to get through Kim Dohyeon and Park Taewon.
"Han Doyoon seems a little different today. What stands out most to you?"
"The biggest change is his pace control. Until now, Han Doyoon has been a very aggressive pitcher who keeps pushing hitters with mid-150s fastballs. But today, rather than using full power, he's managing his stuff according to the situation and running the game with composure."
The game continued, and by the end of the top of the fifth, my pitching line was exactly the picture I'd drawn.
Five innings, no runs.
I'd given up one walk and one hit along the way, with four strikeouts.
Far fewer strikeouts than usual, but that was intentional too. Against the lower order, I'd deliberately put hittable pitches in the zone to save pitch count, and the Storms' veterans—no, their aging hitters—couldn't turn even those into solid contact.
So I conserved pitches against the bottom of the order and poured everything into Kim Dohyeon and Park Taewon.
Everything was flowing smoothly.
Ahead of the top of the sixth, I checked the upcoming hitters again.
"Nine-hole Kim Hajun, leadoff Park Jeongsu, two-hole Kim Dohyeon… well, I just need to be careful with Kim Dohyeon."
Kim Dohyeon was prey I'd already taken down twice. I was confident I could bag him one more time.
And so, without any particular tension, I headed to the mound.
Crack!
Top of the sixth. Leadoff hitter Kim Hajun squared up a 151 km/h four-seam fastball right down the middle for a single to center.
…Tch. Did I leave that too easy?
Even Kim Hajun wasn't so far gone that he couldn't punish a middle-middle four-seamer.
I took the ball back and adjusted my cap.
Well. One hit's nothing.
I casually wiped the pitch from my mind and thought about the next batter.
Next is Park Jeongsu anyway… I can get a double play with a cutter.
I reset my aim at the mitt from the mound.
My confidence was still overflowing, and the word "anxiety" didn't even exist in my head.
And then—
Crack!
Leadoff hitter Park Jeongsu yanked a casually inside cutter into a single in front of the right fielder. In the meantime, first-base runner Kim Hajun had already blown past second and was sprinting all the way to third.
And then the next batter walked into the box.
In that moment—
Whoosh!
A sharp wind, completely different from before, rolled all the way to the mound. It was just a practice swing, but the sound of it slicing through the air was vicious.
Goosebumps prickled across my entire body in an instant.
Whoosh!
A deeper, faster rush of wind rang out again. Only then did I snap fully awake. It felt like my blanked-out brain had been forcibly slammed back into place.
Nobody out, runners on first and third.
And in the batter's box stood the one hitter I'd told myself dozens of times today never to take lightly—Kim Dohyeon.
The vicious face wearing that cold smile was spelling out the situation all too clearly.
…Only then did I realize.
I'd been far more complacent than I thought—and ridiculously, stupidly so.