Chapter 23: "Curveball!"
The batter instantly recognized the pitch flying in at the exact course he'd anticipated. A height perfect for making contact, just like in tee work. Instinctively, he swung the bat hard, matching the trajectory.
Whoosh.
This time, aiming for a big hit, Lee Beom-ho's swing was even bigger. If it had gone as expected with an ordinary pitch sequence, it would've been at least a two-RBI timely hit, or maybe a three-run homer clearing the fence. But the ball, soaring high, traced a larger arc than the batter thought and dropped low.
Damn!
At this rate, it was an obvious whiff. Tae-woong had shown solid control all game. Miss this pitch, and it'd be no-ball, two strikes, piling up the count in the batter's favor. After that, the odds of falling for those damn changeups would skyrocket. Since it was a slow pitch, Lee Beom-ho figured he could at least loop it over the infield if he timed it right. He poured power into his quick-turning wrists.
"Hup."
A grunt slipped out unbidden. He managed to adjust the bat's path as intended, but it fell just short. He'd swung toward where he predicted the ball would be, but it had already dropped half a ball lower. If you judged Tae-woong's curve by sheer bite alone, it was arguably the best in the KBO right now. The bat plunged almost to the dirt.
Crack!
The ball just grazed the end of the bat. Was this a blessing or a curse?
Damn, I should've laid off and waited for the next one.
If he'd swung harder, it could've been a double-play grounder from shortstop, turning a no-out scoring chance into two outs with a runner on third. But the ball rolling across the grass wasn't that fast. Cursing his bad read, Lee Beom-ho tossed his bat and sprinted to first to at least avoid the DP.
No outs, runners on first and second—neither speedy. The mishit ball rolled slowly to Tae-woong's right on the mound, toward shortstop.
Pre-regression Tae-woong would've botched it 100%. But now, his streamlined delivery minimized post-pitch recoil. Plus, mid-30s reflexes couldn't touch early-20s speed.
Grab it! If I miss, it'll scoot to second base!
The thought barely formed—hell, before it even did—his right arm shot out toward the oncoming ball. He snagged the fast-rolling sphere in his gloved right hand.
Snap!
Thumb, index, and middle finger clenched, the glove tightened. Tae-woong felt the ball's weight settle in.
"Second! Throw to second!"
Catcher Lee Hye-chan, mask off, pointed to second for the DP. Third baseman covered third; shortstop dashed to second base.
But Tae-woong's eyes flicked to third. Runner Choi Hyung-woo, thinking the ball would elude the pitcher, hovered between second and third. Seven steps to third at least—and he wasn't fleet-footed.
Straight throw... could get him?
Decision made in a flash. Knee to the dirt, he yanked the ball from his glove and fired to third baseman Hwang Jae-gun.
Whoosh!
The instant Lee Beom-ho's foot hit first base, shortstop's throw smacked into first baseman Yoon Sung-min's glove. Players, coaches, packed stands—all eyes on the ump.
No hesitation. Ump raised his right arm, fist forward, bellowed:
"OUT!"
They say luck visits everyone, but only the prepared catch it. Sure, the game system helped, but I grinded to remake my mechanics. Changed myself. Luck just rolled that mishit right to me.
"Triple play! First ever—heart about to burst watching."
"Pro debut first for me too?"
"Seo Tae-woong! Insane! Nuts!"
"Tae-woong, you gonna play infield too?"
"Then you shift to outfield?"
"Nah, not leaving—so you switch."
"I'd die before outfield."
Love this vibe. Louder, folks—I'll just listen.
Two pitches, three outs. Wiz fans roared as Tae-woong strutted to the dugout.
Thud, thud.
Pro tip: Don't look up right away. Stare straight ahead like laser-focused, then a humble nod. Hooks the crowd harder for their future ace.
Ace: Shitballer striking a pose. All Kershaw up in here—be Kershaw. Throw like it sometime?
Seo Tae-woong: Later, opportunity knocks, friend.
Muttering, Tae-woong suddenly whispered to Ace:
"First triple play—no reward? Not an achievement?"
Ace: Doubles and triples ain't achievements. Batters gotta be cursed unlucky. No mission for it anyway.
"What? No such thing!"
Ace: Right here, dummy.
Top seventh: Yang Hyun-jung pounded four-seamers, flied out the leadoff man to center. But walks and hits to the next two pushed his count over 110—he got yanked. One out, runners on first and second, heart of the order up. Prime scoring spot, but the pen guy induced groundouts. Wiz squandered a chance to pad the lead—felt empty—but Tae-woong sighed in relief.
Ace: Why the lucky face? Gonna blow the lead?
Seo Tae-woong: Hitters crush too hard, I steal spotlight. Main news? Gotta be the star.
Ace: Greed jar incarnate. Pathetic for one skill.
Seo Tae-woong: "One"? Gimme another first, then talk.
Mid-chat, pitching coach Jeong Myeong-eon approached. Tae-woong, loosening up, wasn't sweaty in the chill. Last inning, still had zip.
Doesn't look gassed... but check anyway.
"Tae-woong, you good? Love the fire, but no forcing it. Plenty starts ahead."
Tae-woong whirled his left arm.
"Coach, fresh as hell. Heading up."
Bottom eighth. Tae-woong remounted. At bat: No. 7 hitter Ahn Chi-ho. Righty with glove, eye, pop. Sounds elite—why still KBO? Tae-woong showed 'em.
First pitch: 122 km/h four-seam, his heater. Waist-high inside, a tad low.
"STRIKE!"
Ahn watched it in, sighed at the call.
"Ah... blew it. Shoulda swung."
Regret? Here's another tasty one.
Ball back, sign exchanged—Tae-woong fired.
Whoosh!
Same spot as the first. But not 122 four-seam—a 104 km/h changeup, slower, diving lower.
Whoosh!
Big swing whiffed empty. No ball, two strikes. Ahn stepped out, twirled the bat, timed it.
Confident in bite even slow? Aggressive.
Tae-woong attacked harder than any pitcher Ahn faced—like strikes were life's mission.
Next... changeup again? Or that big curve working today?
Unfair count either way. New pitches today, but that lanky giant's stuff? Tough even twice. Even aggressive, next is 99% offspeed. No slider much... dropping again. Lay off.
Ahn reset.
Mulling hard?
Prime spot for Tae-woong—no complacency, no homer. Could waste two low/outside, but pitch count neared 100. Time for reverse bait again.
Great pitchers rack outs minimum pitches.
MLB/Japan maybe not, but KBO guys tease one here. Thinker like this? Probably taking one.
Overthink? Chaos.
Low four-seam now—he'd see drop.
Sign done—fire!
Whoosh!
Control wobbled; higher than planned. But he froze, expecting drop.
Thwack!
121 km/h four-seam thumped the mitt, sound echoing. Empty swing.
"STRIKE OUT!"
Ahn eyed his bat in regret.
Yes! That's it!
Tae-woong circled the mound, fist pumping small.