Bold Words Spark Buzz and a Sudden Start
A somewhat cocky but brimming-with-confidence statement had injected life into the dull final stretch of an event that had dragged on for over two hours.
The reporters, who had been snapping photos nonstop until then, perked up at the juicy scoop and frantically hammered away at their laptops.
"Ryu Han-jin in 2006... that was 18 wins, right?"
"Yeah, probably. And regular season MVP to boot."
At that moment, other reporters nearby jumped into the conversation.
"Triple Crown and Gold Glove too, no?"
"You write baseball articles every day or what? Of course."
"Posting this on Green Window Baseball News might get some hate."
"Eh, views go up, thank you very much. Can't complain. Gotta have a kid like this every now and then to churn out stories."
"Surpassing Ryu Han-jin... bold kid."
"Tall and pretty handsome too. Haven't had a clickbait face like this in ages."
"Rookie's got guts."
"Yeah. Even one bad outing and the comments section will explode."
"Heard from a junior back from U.S. coverage that his top velocity's slower than Bears' Woo Hee-gang."
"So fastball doesn't even hit 130 km/h?"
"Eh, all the hotshot rookie pitchers are like that."
"Burn themselves out throwing like maniacs in high school for three years, then flop in pro."
"Exactly. Not just one or two."
"So he'll pitch a few games, get surgery, and fizzle out?"
"Who knows... Lucky if he even gets one first-team start next season."
"From what he said today, seems like baseball would be fun if you're just decent at it."
The reporters' hands darted between laptop keys and cameras, their mouths busy swapping opinions with colleagues nearby.
Yes! That's it, that's the stuff. Everyone, obsess over me more!
Savoring the attention pouring his way after so long, Tae-woong flashed a satisfied smile.
Whether he'd seen it somewhere or not, Ace—who'd been spamming baseless dad jokes—must've felt embarrassed himself, vanishing from sight.
After wrapping up Media Day, Tae-woong headed to Manager Kim Jin-woong's favorite meat joint with the manager and Kang Baek-ho.
While Kim stepped away to take a call, a brief diss battle erupted between the two.
"Dude, I thought your brain glitched for a sec."
"Uh... uh... I... I..."
"Who you imitating?"
"Who else? Wiz's super rookie. Wanna hear it again? I... first off..."
"Shut that mouth, now! Starving, huh? Stuff your face with meat. It's burning."
To seal Tae-woong's lips, Kang Baek-ho piled every scrap from the grill onto his plate like a mountain.
Moments later, Manager Kim Jin-woong returned with a grave expression, somehow clutching a bottle of coffee he'd grabbed on the way.
"Auntie, add four more servings of marinated ribs, please."
As Tae-woong innocently ordered more meat and shoved it in his mouth, Baek-ho wondered if he'd messed up or if the manager was mad because he'd eaten first.
Kim sipped his coffee, lost in thought, saying nothing.
After downing the whole bottle, he finally spoke.
"Tae-woong."
"Yes, Manager."
Tae-woong set down his chopsticks mid-reach and replied.
"Looks like you'll have to start on Sunday."
"Pardon? Sunday's Napert hyung's slot, right?"
Injury? Or did he get into an accident? No way Napert would... Hope it's not bad.
Tae-woong worried, recalling how last season Napert had a minor fender-bender on his drive to the stadium.
"Just got word from the interpreter. Minor collision on the way to dinner."
Kang Baek-ho, grilling beef like mad, blurted in shock.
"What? Again? Badly hurt?"
"Nah. Just some neck pain. Skipping this start."
"Ah... still, glad it's nothing serious."
"Yeah. Tae-woong, you good? If Sunday's tough, speak up now. No pressure if you pass."
This was Tae-woong's golden ticket to lock down a first-team spot. No way he'd let it slip.
Normally, filling the No. 2 starter's gap meant bumping up No. 3, 4, or 5 one spot. Problem was, Napert's slot was three days out.
No. 3 Gu Young-pyo was dialed in for next Tuesday's home opener. No. 4 Jo Kwon had pitched four innings in his last spring tune-up just two days ago.
So the only guy ready for a Sunday start was No. 5: Seo Tae-woong.
If he balked here, Kim would patch with a spot starter, and Tae-woong would stick to his scheduled No. 5 outing—against Jo Kwon next.
Jo Kwon'd hit 15 wins down the line, but not for years. Right now, his stuff and control were shaky—team liability.
Spring games proved it: solid stretches wrecked by sudden wildness, yanked early.
Opponents feasting on Jo Kwon's junk would face Tae-woong next? Hitting groove peaked, they'd crush his slow stuff.
Better to follow No. 1 Fairband—fellow lefty with mid-140s heat and four breaking balls, including knuckler.
Manager Kim watched Tae-woong ponder.
Any other pitcher would've jumped: First-team shot!
A glance at his Rolex showed five minutes gone.
Kim liked the kid's deliberate, serious vibe even more.
Tae-woong, weighing his edge, spoke up.
"I want the Sunday start."
Kim replied casually, like it was no big deal.
"Alright. Three days—prep well."
"I'll give it everything."
"Yeah. Meat's cooling. Dig in."
No further words—just full trust.
Faster than expected. My second pro debut.
Spring training outings were long relief, not this.
March 25, 2018, Sunday. AT Wiz vs. Gaon Tigers.
Seo Tae-woong's first regular-season start: locked.
Tigers' starter: Yang Hyun-jung. Top KBO arm, best domestic stats.
This'll be fun. Let's do it.
2018 season: Wiz started hotter than ever.
Three straight last places lit a fire—pitchers and hitters alike in top form.
Wiz's Fairband vs. Tigers' Hekt: No. 1 aces, 2017 ERA and win leaders.
As expected, pitchers' duel. Stellar D snuffed rallies; through eight: 0-0.
Bottom ninth, Wiz's last shot. Two out, bases empty. Leadoff Rohis up.
Starters at 104 and 108 pitches—maybe 3-4 more batters max at 120 cap.
Rohis battled Hekt full count, fouling six straight. Finally laid off a low slider: walk.
Two out, runner on first. Up: super rookie Kang Baek-ho, 1-for-1 with a walk today.
Foreigner WAR king vs. 20-game winner—rookie debut.
"Hekt go! Hekt go!"
"Hekt! Extra innings!"
"Baek-ho! Please!"
"Baek-ho, one hit!"
"Kang Baek-ho homer! Home run!"
Tigers fans chanted Hekt for K or groundout. Wiz roared for walk, hit—or walk-off.
Baek-ho crushed first pitch, outside slider: CRACK!
Long-ball rip echoed. Packed opener crowd—post-long winter—screamed, stood.
"Whoooaa!"
"Woooow!"
Over 10,000 saw it clear left-field wall: walk-off!
Left! Left! Leeeft! It's going! Going! GONE! Homer! Kang Baek-ho! Two-run walk-off off Hekt!
Baek-ho sprinted full tilt for extra base. Spotting the ball between LF and CF, no hesitation—rounded second for third before realizing homer.
"Woooah!"
Wiz mobbed from dugout, water bottles in hand—thrilled first win over champs.
Tae-woong grabbed a massive cooler, dashed out to douse game-ender Baek-ho.
"Drink up! Gulp! Gulp! GULPGULPGULP! Moremoremore! Water's going in!"
Gluglugluglug.
"Gah... dude! Water up my nose! Stop! Stooop!"
"One walk-off homer tomorrow too! Super rookie Kang Baek-ho!"
Tae-woong chased fleeing Baek-ho till empty.
Water torture over, Baek-ho dripped head-to-toe like post-swim.
"Gonna stay hydrated awhile. Right, Baek-ho?"