'What's the Matter?'
Fortunately, Pitching Coach Jeong Myeong-eon didn't take the ball from the umpire. He walked straight toward Tae-woong instead.
That meant he wasn't coming up for a pitching change.
'Phew. Thought I was getting yanked.'
Tae-woong, who'd been tense just in case, finally relaxed when he confirmed the coach's empty hands once more.
"Tae-woong, you're doing great! You still good to keep throwing?"
"Yes, Coach. I'm fine."
"Good, that's a relief. You're our little bonfire, alright!"
"The ball's gripping really well today. Would've been a shutout if not for that homer."
"Heh, always exaggerating, this kid..."
In truth, there wasn't much a pitching coach or manager could say to a shaky pitcher. If a few words fixed every struggle, every Tom, Dick, and Harry would be in the majors.
They just gave the pitcher time to loosen up, catch their breath, and regroup—helping steady rattled nerves.
Maybe "throw with less effort" or "your curve's got bite today, mix it with fastballs."
If that didn't work? Eat some hits and get hooked.
Win or lose, the headlines would trash the pitcher who blew it and the staff who botched the hook.
"Wanna call it? Bullpen's fresh since we didn't use 'em yesterday."
Five innings, one run. Solid for a rookie. Hell, for any starter short of an ace, it was a dream—low innings eaten, sure, but pure satisfaction.
Plus, Fairband had gone the distance last game, so the pen minus the closer was fully rested.
But this line wouldn't make the news highlight reel.
Give up?
What? Give up ain't in my dictionary. And neither's ditching a skill.
Heh, feisty for a shitballer? Fine. Gift time.
'Rookie my ass. I'll be 40 in no time.'
Max velocity increased!
Current max velocity: 125.2 km/h!
'0.2 km/h?'
Feel that? Killer effect, right? Bet you're tearing up.
"......"
Damn, this soup's too salty.
Ungrateful punk.
Meanwhile, the coach, watching Tae-woong seemingly lost in thought, spoke up.
"Tae-woong, the ump's telling me to get you to wrap it up. What do you say?"
"I'll keep going."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I'll shut 'em down the rest of the way today. Trust me!"
"Alright? It's 6-1 now, so we can afford up to 6-4."
With that, the pitching coach patted Tae-woong's shoulder with a smile and headed back to the dugout.
"Coach Jeong, how's Tae-woong holding up?"
Manager Kim Jin-woong called out to the returning coach. As a former pitcher himself, he was worried about the kid.
Rookies usually lacked stamina. They might dominate early, but as pitch counts climbed, one crisis could break them under pressure. Consecutive runs led to the hook, and trauma that hobbled their true talent.
No matter Tae-woong's spring training heroics, he was a fresh-faced pro fresh out of high school. Aside from that one fat pitch run in five innings, who knew when trouble would strike.
He'd left it to the pitching coach, but the unease lingered.
"We can keep him in. He's smiling out there."
"Smiling?"
"Yeah. Looks like he's just having too much fun throwing."
"Huh..."
"He says he'll finish the game. Let's watch. If not, we'll warm the pen after this inning."
"If Coach Jeong says so, let's ride him to the end."
Manager Kim eyed Tae-woong on the mound and Kang Baek-ho patrolling the outfield.
Kang Baek-ho, who'd clinched yesterday's win with a walk-off homer.
And Seo Tae-woong, now over five innings of lights-out ball against last season's champs.
Twenty years as high school coach, then pro coach, now manager—no rookies under him had this combo of guts and skill.
Fans called him the "face guy," "virtue manager," "soft charisma," "coffee skipper." But Kim Jin-woong wasn't settling.
Great pitcher in his day, but never the best. Great manager, but not the greatest.
Always smiling in interviews, but his goal never wavered.
'Championship...'
Recalling Kang Baek-ho and Seo Tae-woong's exploits, Kim Jin-woong's grip tightened unconsciously.
Fairband and Napert doing their jobs, Gu Young-pyo blooming with the changeup last year, and now Seo Tae-woong locking down a rotation spot? Winnable fight.
For that, the established trio needed the rookie to solidify. And he, the manager, had to trust Tae-woong.
"Coach Jeong, if Tae-woong goes the distance like he says, how about making him our permanent No. 2?"
"Huh? Him as No. 2? Well, if he keeps throwing well and eats innings, doesn't matter who...
Originally, when Napert returned, Tae-woong was slated to shift—maybe 4th or 5th starter, long relief, or even Triple-A based on today.
But Coach Jeong had watched him closely and shared the manager's hope.
"Let's trust him."
"Yeah. If we don't, who will?"
Their talk ended plainly, and Tae-woong's pitching resumed.
Crack!
Choi Hyung-oh up! Oh, shortstop can't handle it.
Easy out if he throws, but the ball slips from the glove.
Leadoff hitter Choi Hyung-oh's shallow grounder toward short, but a glove bobble scored an error.
Now, no outs, runner on first, cleanup hitter Na Ji-wang at the plate.
Choi Hyung-oh on first wasn't a burner.
Best play: grounder for a double play.
Tae-woong went outside to the righty—a changeup that dove late, mimicking fastball track.
But releasing it, he felt extra tension in his arm and wrist.
Whoosh!
'Damn. This'll get crushed.'
Tae-woong knew it was fat the instant it left his hand.
A tense changeup was just a bland, slower fastball.
Sub-130 km/h? No excuse if it got tagged.
The batter didn't miss the pitch leaking middle-in.
Thwack!
Meatball incoming? Incoming?
Just as Tae-woong feared, but luck smiled—the batter mishandled it too. No clean contact; the ball scooted along the grass.
Oh! Fat pitch, but the hitter misses it.
Foul off the bat. Rolling toward second!
Na Ji-wang doesn't even look—sprinting to first!
Second grabs it, throws to first... oh! Slips again!
Scrambles it and fires! Safe call?
Safe! Safe! Foot first by a hair.
Wiz challenging video? Nah, dugout's letting it go.
Close, but reviewable.
Na Ji-wang, hitless today, finally on with an error in the sixth!
Tae-woong's been sharp, but luck's sour now. Error gets him on.
Changeup, but tensed up. Needed more drop—trajectory too fastball-like.
Defense not helping.
Slow stuff means one mistake can go yard. Fatigue or just a blip? Wiz staff thinking...
'Argh, driving me nuts. 0.1 seconds faster and it's out.'
Luckily, slow-footed Choi Hyung-oh on first didn't test third, and no extra bases off the mistake.
'Double-play grounder again? Or K my way out?'
More velocity would help, but he lacked the zip.
Without field help, tough to escape.
No outs, runners on first and second. Today's biggest jam.
Handle it clean and strut to the next inning, or hand off the ball.
Getting hooked meant mission fail.
No quitting for Tae-woong.
Just hop down and rest. One skill ain't the end of the world, right?
The snark fired him up—no way he'd bail.
Sixth bottom, no outs, runners on first and second!
Pro debut for starter Seo Tae-woong—big spot.
At the plate: No. 6 hitter Lee Beom-hu!
Runners both plodders. Beom-hu packs power but no wheels.
Tae-woong sped up his tempo. Slow stuff couldn't give hitters think time.
Shook off the outside changeup sign to the catcher. Changeups weren't gripping today.
Sure, the hit was a hung mistake, but hitters adjusted well.
If he was just fastball-changeup guy, he'd bleed runs or get yanked.
But other pitches remained.
Especially his 40-point decider: the curve.
Others middling.
Time to disrupt with fresh trajectory and speed.
Mindlessly repeating pitches? Dumb when it was do-or-die.
Vary counts, nail location—that's how trick pitchers without heat survived.
'Low-inside two-seam fastball.'
Sign to catcher: two-seam fastball jamming the righty inside.
Lowest-rated pitch in his arsenal—barely thrown since spring training.
But perfect to fool 'em now. Different track from changeup, unseen today.
Catcher Lee Hye-chan hesitated—second-guessing the sign?—but trusted and thrust the mitt forward.
Tae-woong fired quick, knee-high, denying think time.
Whoosh!
The ball sank inside as planned.
Swoosh!
"Striiike!"
Swinging whiff. Prediction nailed.
First look at a 118 km/h two-seamer eye-level? Bat goes out on reflex.
No swing? 100% ball outside the zone.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Lee Beom-hu stepped back, practice-swinging to reset.
By then, Tae-woong and catcher exchanged signs—smooth, since the two-seam worked.
Inside two-seam into big-breaking curve outside. Tasty combo.
First pitch whiff had him fishing outside.
'Exactly.'
Second pitch: high chest-high curve outside—perfect bat height.
Whoosh!
'Hit it if you can.'
Connect if you dare. Homer, please.
Shut it.
Batter set, pitch away!
Whoosh!
Off Tae-woong's hand, the ball floated high again before plunging.