All-Out War Right After the Call-Up (3)
“Alright, everyone, you’ve waited long enough. Today we have with us the stars of this fantastic game: Yu Seungjin and Lee Hajun.”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The moment the stadium announcer’s words rang out across Daejeon Hawks Park, the home stadium of the Daejeon Hawks, thunderous applause poured down.
Despite the sweltering heat, a huge number of home fans had stayed. The team was teetering on the edge of last place, so disappointment was natural, yet a long-overdue win was always pure joy.
“·····”
Veteran Yu Seungjin answered the announcer’s questions with easy composure and greeted the fans while Hajun stood beside him, watching with a faintly tense gaze. For now he could only manage a smile whenever Seungjin finished speaking and the announcer overreacted for effect.
“Please give us plenty of support again tomorrow.”
Seungjin wrapped up his remarks and bowed. Even as a high-salaried player in the twilight of his career, he still maintained his form with real passion.
“And next·····”
Hajun swallowed once and stepped forward.
“The hero of today’s miraculous game-tying hit, Lee Hajun!”
“Hello, I’m Lee Hajun of the Daejeon Hawks.”
He walked out with a sheepish smile.
“Looking good!”
“You’re handsome!”
“Fighting!”
Playful shouts from the home fans rose from every direction. Hajun was no celebrity, yet among baseball players he ranked as quite the looker. Back in his Lakers days the marketing team had been certain that once he became a regular he would explode in popularity. And for a baseball player, the ultimate plastic surgery was simply playing well. The young shortstop who had shone on both sides of the ball today looked better than any K-pop idol in the eyes of the Hawks fans.
“I’ll keep showing you good baseball. Thank you!”
The tension that had gripped him moments earlier melted under the friendly atmosphere; he recovered his smile and finished the interview without a hitch.
“A big round of applause for our new face, Lee Hajun! We’ll win again tomorrow for sure. Daejeon Hawks fighting!”
The veteran stadium announcer’s booming voice, seasoned by countless events, was the last thing the Hawks home fans heard that night.
“Yeah, the seniors here are treating me really well.”
“How’s the room? Better than Seosan?”
“Seosan doesn’t even compare.”
Hajun had barely finished moving his bags into the dorm before heading straight to the ballpark, so everything had been a blur, yet even on a second look the Hawks’ newly renovated dorm from a few years back was excellent. It was meant for freshly called-up or newly traded players to stay only a short while, but the facilities were so good no one wanted to leave.
The conversation with his mother had been pretty entertaining. Apparently his father had gotten angry when Hajun stayed in the game instead of being pinch-hit for. Why put him in such a critical spot against a pitcher that good? Of course his mother’s trademark exaggeration was layered on top, so the real reaction was anyone’s guess, but Hajun understood the feeling.
Still early for them, I guess.
The low expectations aimed at him. He accepted it as inevitable for now and didn’t feel particularly bad. Even he, with a hundred times more confidence than before, had wondered whether facing that first at-bat in such a tight situation had been too much.
“But the second you got that hit, your dad said he was going out for a smoke and then walked straight into the living room instead. I was so relieved I almost collapsed.”
“I got lucky.”
Hajun answered modestly. He still had no real achievements to brag about to his parents, and he wasn’t the type to show off anyway. From the frustration of the minors to a first-team call-up, then an impactful debut game—he felt a little sorry for all the worry he had caused them, and happy that he had shown them something good today. If he had to choose, the latter was winning out in his mixed emotions.
“I’ll call again soon.”
“Okay. Eat properly.”
Any longer and the secondhand embarrassment would have become unbearable. Hajun hung up and sat on the bed at once. Feeling the soft mattress of the dorm, he replayed the day’s game.
Park Haein had been an excellent pitcher. Yet from the very first pitch Hajun had confidently attacked the fastball and smashed it for the tying hit. On Park Jisu’s subsequent grounder he had sprinted like a madman without looking back. With two outs the textbook play was to throw to first, but something had told him the throw might go home instead.
“Hoo·····”
I hope every day can be like today.
Baseball was a sport of failure. For any individual the bad moments inevitably outnumbered the good, and anyone who couldn’t endure that would lose their mind. But the joy of success was just as large, and that was what let a player look forward to tomorrow.
“Whoa, how long has it been?”
“·····”
The next day, Sunday. The final day of the first half of the professional season. Jin Yeongil and Lee Hajun were staring at the starting lineup.
7th batter, shortstop, No. 29 Lee Hajun.
The spot that had first carried the name of Hawks shortstop Bae Hojun the day before now belonged to someone else. The “maybe” that had lived in Hajun’s heart had returned as a gift.
“See? I told you you’d take the shortstop job in no time.”
“Haha·····”
Hajun remembered Yeongil shushing him yesterday and found it absurd, yet the joy was too big to smother. He was starting. No more wondering whether he would even play; he would take the field from the first inning and play his own baseball. At least two or three at-bats were guaranteed.
“Back with the Lakers they used to yank me pretty quick once the late innings rolled around.”
“Worry about that when it happens.”
“Hahaha, true.”
Hajun laughed as he spoke. He hadn’t had many close friends on his previous team either, but Yeongil—who had become a complete loner here—was making him happy.
The starting lineup that would be released to the media a few hours later was set, and the players began their work. A full meeting with the coaches, then tailored drills. In defensive practice Hajun showed promise for the future; in batting practice he made the coaches think, His condition is really good today.
He grabbed a quick energy snack. Outside, the sound of the stands filling grew louder.
“We won yesterday, but that still only makes us 1-9. We take the series today and then charge into the second half.”
Captain Kim Dongseong, who had hit a home run the night before, spoke in a firm tone. It was the usual formal talk, yet somehow everyone felt today was different.
[Gwangju Kings vs Daejeon Hawks Starting Lineups]
“Yes, today’s the final game of the first half, and there are plenty of events afterward, so please give our players a big round of applause!”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Even with the first-half finale events, even with the visiting team being the Gwangju Kings—who boasted the highest away-fan turnout in Korea—Daejeon Hawks Park was sold out again today. It was a place that drew big crowds on ordinary days, a team with fiercely loyal supporters. Almost no baseball fan ever used the dismissive “XX-boosted” label for the Hawks’ attendance numbers.
[The first-place Gwangju Kings must bounce back from yesterday’s shocking walk-off loss, while the Daejeon Hawks look to keep their miraculous comeback rolling. Today’s starting lineups are·····]
On the broadcast screen, 7th batter Lee Hajun was listed as a key player.
[The Hawks send out foreign pitcher Jake; the Kings counter with the eternal heart of the franchise, Kim Dongjun. How do you see it?]
[Jake still isn’t inspiring enough confidence that replacement talk keeps circulating, while Kim Dongjun has been solid this season, so the edge on the mound has to go to the Kings····· but after yesterday, we’ll just have to watch it all the way.]
[The Hawks’ key player is Lee Hajun?]
[Yes. He hadn’t drawn much attention before, so yesterday’s performance felt surprising, yet a lot of experts already see him as a player who will produce steadily going forward. Worth watching again today.]
[Both sides are ready to write a new chapter. The teams’ eleventh meeting of the season and the final game before the All-Star break—play ball.]
Daejeon Hawks foreign left-hander Jake. His fastball turned into a leadoff single for Kings shortstop and leadoff hitter Park Chanbin, and the game was underway.
[LIVE] Gwangju Kings 6 : 0 Daejeon Hawks
Crack—!
[A well-struck ball!]
Park Chanbin, facing his second at-bat of the first inning, squared it up cleanly. But the low launch-angle line drive was snared by Hajun on a leap.
“Hmm·····”
Hajun had not expected anything like this on the day of his first start since the trade—before he had even taken his first at-bat. Starter Jake had surrendered a grand slam to sixth batter Jeong Wooseong and been pulled. After the change the bullpen had held, yet the six-run deficit was still lethal. Kim Dongjun was on the Kings’ mound, and even though they had beaten him yesterday, an ironclad bullpen waited behind him. The league’s strongest lineup was hungry for more runs. An extremely difficult game. But it was far too early in the first inning to talk about quitting.
[Wearing the Hawks uniform for his first start, Lee Hajun steps into the box.]
Hajun took his stance. No cheer song had been prepared yet, but led by the cheer captain and the cheerleaders the home fans still poured out passionate support. The game might end in defeat. Still, they hoped that little spark would show them possibility.
Crack—!
Damn!
Hajun’s expression soured as he sprinted for first. He had failed to handle Kim Dongjun’s slider diving away outside. A grounder headed toward short. Even so he ran full speed for the bag. A roar rose from the stands.
“Huh?”
He realized it late. The grounder had trickled into a perfect no-man’s-land; neither Kings shortstop Park Chanbin nor third baseman Kim Jongbeom could reach it.
[Lee Hajun records a hit today! He becomes the team’s first baserunner.]
Bottom of the third, no outs, nobody on, leadoff man aboard. The fans had no choice but to hope. The next batter’s grounder was basically a bunt. A strikeout that drained the energy from the stands.
Crack—!
A hanging pitch not missed. Hajun, standing on second, scored on a single by Hawks leadoff hitter and right fielder Jo Inbeom.
“Nice! It’s not over yet!”
A middle-aged male fan with an especially loud voice bellowed from the Hawks section. Nearby spectators jumped a little; farther ones laughed and joined in. That shout couldn’t have worked magic, of course.
Crack—!
[Just over the shortstop’s head! That ball becomes an RBI single!]
Bottom of the fifth, Hawks sixth batter Ji Gyeongjun perfectly timed Kim Dongjun’s diving changeup. The soft contact cleared Park Chanbin’s glove for a hit. With the Kings unable to pull away, the score was now 6–3 and still closing.
[A golden chance to break it open. On the mound, Jin Yeongil; at the plate, cleanup hitter Jang Daeho.]
[This could be the turning point.]
Two outs, bases loaded. Earlier, with one out and the bases full, Kings third batter Kim Jongbeom’s sharp grounder had been sucked into the third baseman’s glove, turning the brief cheer of the Kings’ away fans into groans. Now the Hawks brought lefty fireballer Jin Yeongil in against left-handed cleanup hitter Jang Daeho.
Crack—!
Jang Daeho’s heavily muscled frame met the high fastball. The ball soared—but fatefully stayed inside the infield. Infield fly, three outs. Once again the Gwangju Kings failed to score. The Kings fans who had been celebrating early were gradually growing quieter.
Crack—!
Hawks third batter and first baseman Park Jinhyeok’s extra-base hit.
[Throw to the plate! Aaaaaah! It gets away! Jeong Chanwoo can’t glove it and the score becomes 6–5! Park Jinhyeok’s two-RBI double closes the gap!]
Kings center fielder Carlos’s strong throw. It should have been a close play, yet it sailed wide and the run scored.
The game had become a one-run knife-edge. Yet as if answering the awakening of the Hawks pitchers—or simply showing the resilience of the league’s top team—the Kings’ subsequent arms overwhelmed the Hawks hitters with ferocious focus.
Pop—!
“Strike three!”
A fastball nicked the absolute bottom outside corner of the strike zone; ABS called it a strike, and Kings’ Kim Jongbeom, who had been locked in all day, hung his head.
In the top of the ninth, Hawks closer Go Minjae finished his second straight scoreless outing and completed his job. Then came the fateful bottom of the ninth.
“Strike three!”
“Strike three!”
[The diving splitter! Park Haein strikes out two in a row!]
High fastballs and low splitters had completely dismantled the hitters. Now at the plate was Ji Gyeongjun, who had come up yesterday and kept making good plays. Kings fans hoped the game would end as a mere blip; Hawks fans felt their momentum briefly checked by the consecutive strikeouts.
[Two outs, nobody on, full count!]
Against Ji Gyeongjun, who was showing incredible patience fouling off pitches on the black, Park Haein fired with everything he had.
Pop—!
“·····”
For a split second silence fell over Hawks Park. No one could be sure of the result with the naked eye.
[ABS doesn’t react and the home plate umpire’s hand stays down! Ji Gyeongjun works a walk.]
“Haa·····”
Laying the bat down to walk to first, Ji Gyeongjun let out a long breath. He had been helpless against that last pitch. Park Haein, true to his status as the league’s best closer, had thrown his absolute best ball in the biggest moment—an outside slider the hitter never even thought of swinging at. Yet it had missed the strike call by the thinnest of margins.
Well then·····
Lee Hajun headed to the plate. Another clutch situation to shoulder, just like yesterday. Four at-bats, one hit. The mishit had fallen for a single; the clean contact had gone straight to an outfielder. He had tasted baseball’s unfairness fully, yet previous at-bats meant nothing now. Hajun calmly took his preparatory stance and looked at the opposing pitcher. Even if he had solved him yesterday, the man on the mound was still Park Haein.
“·····”
I can barely hear what they’re saying.
From the dugout his teammates were roaring encouragement in thick voices. From the stands the amp and mixed cheers washed over everything. The clearest sound was his own heartbeat. Time itself seemed to freeze.
Pop—!
“Ball!”
Pop—!
“Strike!”
Hajun waited calmly for a pitch he could drive.
Crack—!
“Foul!”
When the foul put him at two strikes, the Kings’ away fans cheered.
“Ball!”
At 2-2 the relieved Hawks fans hammered their thundersticks.
Crack—!
“Foul!”
[Solid contact but just foul! The 2-2 count continues.]
[Lee Hajun’s condition is clearly excellent today. He’s watching the ball calmly and swinging from a stable base.]
The pulled foul had been threatening enough that third baseman Kim Jongbeom had to react.
This kid·····
Kings catcher Jeong Chanwoo grew restless. When he had caught that monstrous slider on the full count against Ji Gyeongjun he had been certain Park Haein was at his absolute best today. So why hadn’t they already shaken off the unlucky walk and ended the game? And now the kid had squared up a well-located outside fastball. Jeong Chanwoo glanced toward the dugout. If permission came he would go to the mound at once to settle him down—and, however absurd it sounded, even consider an intentional walk.
“·····”
The dugout signaled to keep going. A closer’s confidence had to be absolute. Flinching against some no-name hitter who happened to be hot for a few minutes made no sense.
Right. The stuff is still good anyway.
If Park Haein got hit now, no one who followed would be safe either. And while yesterday had been different, the hitter currently standing there was weak in power; a game-tying hit was hard to imagine.
Jeong Chanwoo calmly put down the sign.
Crack—!
“Foul!”
Hajun’s stance broke slightly as he cut the diving splitter.
He’s sitting on the fastball!
In the crisis Jeong Chanwoo’s mind still raced in a rational direction.
[The Kings battery is grinding through two straight tough hitters. Lee Hajun is showing real concentration. Who will be smiling when this ends?]
One side wanted it over; the other wanted it to continue. Yet a decision always came somehow.
Jeong Chanwoo put down the sign, and Park Haein threw with the delivery he had practiced countless times. The weapon demanded to finish the hitter was a splitter that would drop to the dirt. Jeong Chanwoo dropped to one knee, ready for a one-bounce ball.
Wha—?
In that instant the catcher froze. If the splitter dropped even lower than before he had been certain of a swing-and-miss. So why was the pitch that should have fallen straight down floating into the middle of the zone?
Crack—!
Pitcher and catcher could only leave the result entirely to fate. Hajun’s bat came around in a merciless, unshakable plane.
[Right-field wall! Right-field wall! Over the right fielder! Over the right fielder!]
Right fielder Jang Daeho could only walk aimlessly.
[It’s gone! Lee Hajun’s walk-off two-run home run for the lead!]
A splitter that had floated dead center. To Hajun, who had been thinking of nothing but contact, it might as well have been a batting-practice pitch. The hitter rounded the diamond with his right arm raised; the pitcher trudged back to the dugout with his head down. The catcher stayed put, trying to console him. Contests always ended cruelly for someone.
[The Daejeon Hawks home fans who stayed through the hard times! The Hawks gift them a series win!]
[What a dramatic game.]
[The 2026 first half for the Daejeon Hawks ends in ninth place. But here, Lee Hajun is already promising the fans a second-half counterattack!]