Towards Fifth Place (8)
POW!
“Strikeout!”
The score sat at 2–5.
In Jamsil Baseball Stadium, where runs were coming exclusively off home runs, Ryze delivered a redemption strikeout clinic.
“We’ve got the momentum now—let’s flip this thing!”
Captain Kim Dongseong rallied the players.
In the top of the fourth, he had managed to square up Elliott’s first pitch while the starter was still shaky, only for the ball to die just short of the left-field warning track. The disappointment lingered, but with their starter firmly back on track, they still had a real shot at a comeback. That belief had to be planted deep.
“Seungyeop, get ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
Meanwhile, Hawks manager Park Taesik was already thinking about an early bullpen call.
We’re taking this one today. No matter what.
Everyone said the regular season was a marathon, yet the truth was that a handful of games often decided everything. Sniffing out those turning points—that was the real measure of a professional manager.
CRACK!
Third time up.
Hajun met Elliott’s 154 km/h fastball at the high point of its drop and sent it screaming over the pitcher’s head, dropping it in front of the center fielder.
“Safe!”
“Hey! Hey! Throw it over here!”
“You throw it!”
Elliott’s pickoff throws kept coming, one after another. Hajun couldn’t shake the feeling that emotion was bleeding into them.
He’d gone ten pitches deep against this hitter last time and still given up a hit. Now he’d surrendered another one in consecutive at-bats. For a pitcher, it was the kind of sequence that stung the pride.
Even so, Elliott stayed true to form as a reliable starter, working the runner at first while keeping his focus locked on the batter.
POW!
“Ball!”
Full count, and Jays walked to first.
POW!
“Strikeout!”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Elliott!”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Elliott!”
But the next hitters went down empty. The home fans could only applaud the pitcher who had just delivered a brilliant outing against a team riding absolute peak form.
CRACK!
The game had entered its late stages.
Bottom of the seventh. Grizzlies cleanup hitter Kim Gangcheol squared up Park Sihye’s fastball from the mound. The home fans rose as one, already clapping for the insurance run they were certain was coming. The ball looked locked in to shoot through the hole between short and third.
But if you knew the opposing shortstop, you never counted a ball as an outfield hit until it actually got there.
Deep in the hole, Hajun backhanded the ball clean, then leaped and fired toward first.
Please!
Two outs, bases loaded. A wild throw here would be fatal.
The velocity on the throw was unbelievable for something released mid-air—but the trade-off was accuracy.
“Ugh!”
Captain and first baseman Kim Dongseong planted one foot on the bag and stretched his arm as far as humanly possible.
“Out!”
“WAAAAAAAAAH!”
Showman pitcher Park Sihye pounded his glove in celebration, and Hajun hurriedly reset his cap, flashed a smile, and headed for the dugout.
The lead kept threatening to shrink or explode, yet neither ever quite happened.
Now it was the top of the eighth. Each side had only two more chances left.
Grizzlies right-hander Lee Jinwook. Even during warm-ups his eyes burned with resolve.
Hajun swallowed hard as he watched his teammates step into the box. His heart was fluttering just a little.
There had been so many miraculous games already. Strictly speaking, the straightforward wins still outnumbered them… but either way, this team’s run so far had been extraordinary. He believed today’s game could go either way right to the end.
And yet—
Six outs left. A three-run deficit. The pedigree of the opposing pitcher. By every measure, they were in serious trouble.
Can we really…?
He knew he shouldn’t think it, but even if they lost, he just wanted one more at-bat.
POW!
“Strikeout!”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
“Haa…”
“Ahem…”
“We… we can do this!”
The Hawks leaned heavily on their top of the order. Four outs remaining. Even if they somehow reached the leadoff man, the situation wouldn’t be ideal.
Today felt different—in the worst possible way. That quiet dread was spreading through the Hawks dugout and the visiting stands alike.
“What are you all doing?”
“…”
“Your captain just came up. Cheer for him.”
“Ah!”
Captain Kim Dongseong, returning after his own strikeout, demanded support for the next hitter.
“Fighting, Captain!”
“Gyeongjun hyung!”
“Hit us a home run!”
The younger players forced every ounce of emotion they could muster into their cheers.
POW!
“Ball!”
Lee Jinwook couldn’t hide his frustration. Of course he still had room to work. As a bullpen arm, he never assumed a clean inning was automatic.
Somehow… we need runs this inning…
Hajun swallowed and watched Park Jisu’s at-bat. The man who had come over with Yeongil from the Lakers days—always more dependable than his numbers suggested.
CRACK!
“Oh!”
Park Jisu swung at the first pitch. Hajun was on his feet instantly.
“Please!”
“Go!”
THWACK!
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
The pitcher bit his lip. The catcher rose and simply watched the batter circle the bases. Park Jisu rounded them calmly, no celebration, as if to say the game still wasn’t tied.
We can do this!
Hajun immediately grabbed his bat.
One-run game. Worst-case scenario: every hitter ahead of him made an out before he got another chance. But if he could step in with two outs and a one-run deficit, he was confident he could stir something up.
POW!
“Ball!”
Past thirty pitches, Lee Jinwook let out a heavy sigh.
Even the best stuff in the world couldn’t erase a brutal workload. But the game was simply too important. Hong Jongyeon, who had already thrown two innings yesterday, was back out there in the eighth.
POW!
“Ball!”
His expression was darker than usual.
POW!
“Ball!”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
The Grizzlies fans could barely watch.
Catcher Kim Gangcheol climbed the mound.
“Yes!”
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
While the catcher worked on the pitcher’s head, Manager Park Taesik prepared a pinch hitter.
This is insane.
Hajun headed for the on-deck circle. In the eighth? Not even the ninth? He knew better than to get his hopes up, but looking at the situation now…
CRACK!
Hajun squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, then forced them open again.
Third baseman Hong Gyeongtae was excellent with the glove. But this was a natural disaster.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
The Hawks fans’ applause had real weight behind it—nearly matching the roar for the earlier home run.
“…”
A sequence no one could have scripted. Lee Hajun stepped into the box.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Leadoff hitter, Lee Hajun!”
Well, damn.
Jamsil Baseball Stadium felt ready to collapse—and if it did, the visiting fans would be the ones responsible. An ordinary out simply wasn’t allowed in this atmosphere.
Only swing at what’s in the zone.
Whether it was the consecutive appearances or something else, Hong Jongyeon was clearly not himself. Relying too heavily on that was dangerous, but Hajun narrowed his strike zone even more than usual, fully prepared to take the walk if it came.
Hong Jongyeon’s interval was a touch longer than usual before he finally delivered.
CRACK!
“Ohhh… KYAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Pterodactyl-like screams erupted from every corner of the stands.
“…”
Hajun had swung on pure instinct. The fastball came in so honestly, belt-high and just a shade up the middle, that even he was startled. Launch angle higher than usual.
Whoosh—
He tracked the flight for a heartbeat, then flipped the bat.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
The ball cleared the massive Jamsil wall with room to spare. As if answering the challenge of that powerful fastball, the contact had been pure and explosive.
The pitcher on the mound crumpled into a crouch, unable to believe it. Grizzlies manager Lee Junhyeok’s eyes had nowhere left to go.
“Waaaaaah!”
Slap!
The moment Hajun crossed the plate he flung his helmet and high-fived every teammate in reach.
“Woooah! Skip!”
“Tell the bullpen not to cool down.”
Park Taesik answered the overexcited coach without missing a beat.
“Lee Hajun! Lee Hajun! Lee Hajun!”
Jamsil Baseball Stadium needed no amplifiers.
“…”
Hajun’s heartbeat was so loud and clear he half-wondered if his body might simply give out. He wouldn’t calm down until this game was officially over. Right now he still couldn’t quite believe any of it was real.
CRACK!
High didn’t always mean good.
“…Haa.”
The tension drained out of Hajun long before the ball was caught. In the bottom of the ninth, Hawks closer Go Minjae’s pitch found the bat, hung in the air for an eternity, and finally settled into shortstop Lee Hajun’s glove.