Chapter 28
"Second-team meals aren't bad, but man, first-team grub has way more variety. And it's tastier too."
With his start just four hours away, Seo Tae-woong was mulling over the lunch he'd scarfed down moments ago. During this post-meal break, he was alone—or rather, with Ace—staring intently at his smartphone.
'Tied for first... That's good so far, but the win differentials with the other teams are one, two, three...'
Tae-woong was crunching the numbers: how many more wins they needed for postseason, the minimum victories he'd have to snag in his starts for various scenarios. That's when Ace, gazing out the window at the stadium, spoke up.
-Ace: What're you up to now? Brushing up on elementary math? No age limit on learning, sure, but a high school grad starting with addition and subtraction? That's a bit much, don't you think? Even if athletes are stereotyped as dumb for skipping studies, there's a line. Isn't this overkill?
"Enough of your bullshit, you Nav—"
-Ace: Nav... what? Seo Tae-woong, you out of your mind? Trying to get cut already?
"What're you even talking about?"
-Ace: Never mind, kid. I overreacted. What the hell was Ace even saying? No matter how hard he thought, Tae-woong couldn't make sense of it.
"And what addition and subtraction? I'm looking at the standings."
-Ace: Standings? Why?
"Duh, to see how many wins we need to crack the top five."
Tae-woong held up his phone for Ace to see.
Ace peered closely at the standings.
-Ace: Win today, and Wiz jumps the Bears for sole first?
"Yep. We have to win today."
-Ace: Hey, just do your job. You alone. Don't you know if the starter sucks, no amount of runs from the bats saves it?
"I've got this. If the lineup plates just one run today, that'll be plenty."
-Ace: Few good outings and you're all cocky now.
"Shut it, jerk. My goal today is nine innings—watch and learn. Oh, wonder when I'll get to test that new skill."
-Ace: Fair... Bullpen's thrown a ton lately; they need the break.
There was good reason Tae-woong was talking nine innings. The bullpen pitchers had logged heavy innings over the four-game stretch from Tuesday. With just Saturday and Sunday left, Wiz desperately needed an innings-eater who could handle at least seven frames comfortably.
"And that innings-eater is yours truly."
-Ace: Time for your meds...? Spouting nonsense again.
"For real, man. Trust me just this once."
-Ace: Throw a perfect game today, and maybe I'll consider it. Maybe.
"So you won't?"
-Ace: Good you get it.
As Tae-woong bantered with Ace, Kang Baek-ho showed up looking for him.
Clunk.
"What're you doing here? Gonna start in my place or something?"
"Nah, shut up. Skip and pitching coach want you in the manager's office."
"Cool, thanks."
"Yeah, good luck. Make it to the ninth if you can."
"You know it. You just smack three homers all cute-like."
"You're insane... Shouldn't have said it. Heading to tee work."
"Cool, have fun."
"Just months ago, you were fine—totally lost it now. Lost it..."
"I can hear you, dude."
"Meant for you to. Later, campfire."
"Yeah, go on, super rookie."
Kang Baek-ho headed back to tee drills after that.
"Wonder why the skip wants me all sudden? What's up?"
-Ace: Think it's that? Pretty sure it's that.
Ace said it with a grave look.
'What? If even he's this serious...'
Tae-woong gulped, matching Ace's tension.
"Huh? That? What? Spill."
-Ace: You know, that. For real, no clue?
"What the hell is your that?"
Ace kept the straight face. Then, eyeing Tae-woong's nerves, a wicked grin spread.
-Ace: Your favorite yogurt.
"Damn it, there's still five bottles left!"
-Ace: Eat 'em quick. Don't go scrounging expired crap and shitting yourself on the mound.
"Just curse me out already."
-Ace: Oh, coulda done that? My bad—shoulda said. Voodoo doll... voodoo doll...
"...Cut the scary shit, please. You know I'm ghost-phobic."
-Ace: Come to papa?
"Gahhhh! Get lost!"
Terrified, Tae-woong bolted.
"Skip, Coach, you wanted me?"
"Yeah, Tae-woong? Come on in."
"Yes, sir."
"All set for your start?"
"Of course. No issues."
"Got a favor to ask today."
"Shoot."
Tae-woong had been summoned to the manager's office by Kim Jin-woong the manager and Jeong Myeong-eon the pitching coach, his starters for tomorrow.
They apologized for piling it on a rookie but asked him to pitch aggressively—hits and homers okay—to conserve pitches and eat as many innings as possible. They'd seen his command and game management in the last outing, so it felt doable.
"Sorry, kid. Not fair to a rookie."
"No worries. I've got it—trust me."
Not arrogance beyond his station, but quiet confidence in real ability. Tae-woong's reply brimmed with it.
"And..."
"Coach Jeong."
"Huh?"
Kim grabbed Jeong's shoulder as he started to elaborate.
"Go finish prepping. Thanks, Tae-woong."
"Yes, sir. I'll head out."
Maybe it was Tae-woong's swagger, but Kim had nothing more to add—just clapped his shoulder as he left.
Ace, arms crossed watching from the sidelines, piped up the second they were out.
-Ace: Whoa, 125 km/h shitballer got some guts...
"Hey, shitballer?"
-Ace: Facts. 125 km/h shitballer.
"I've got something to lean on."
-Ace: Ahem, me? Kinda embarrassing getting props to my face.
"Huh? Oh, sorry... Not you—the skill from last game."
-Ace: What? Die, just die. Shoulder pops mid-pitch, or take a liner to the nuts and live dickless awhile.
"What a trash heap."
-Ace: You're trash too?
"You too."
-Ace: Yeah. You too.
"Right back at ya."
-Ace: Reflex.
"Reflex reflex."
-Ace: ...Reflex reflex reflex.
Their kindergarten-level diss battle raged until Tae-woong donned his headset in the lounge for meditation.
Clunk.
In Jamsil Baseball Stadium's large conference room, folks were chatting when the door swung open. A paunchy middle-aged guy in thickly tinted sunglasses wiped sweat from his brow and hustled in.
"Hey, Skip!"
"Manager, you're here?"
"Yeah, sorry everyone. Ran late—press interviews dragged. Feels like they're hyping us too hard early on."
"Hahaha."
"Quit laughing, focus up. You know the manager catches the most heat if we flop? Comments call me 'Stone Tae-hyun'! Stone Tae-hyun!"
"Sto... Tae... Yes, sir!"
"Coach Jo, start us? I'm late."
"Uh, sure? Three minutes till official start."
The Bears, battling Wiz for first and second, shone under manager Kim Tae-hyun's leadership—the "Fox-like Bear." True to his rep, he was a strategy master.
'Gotta hold this lead through May at least. Asian Games break means tweaking ops...'
Kim's goal: Hit 20 wins quick, push to 30, then 50 fastest. Long 144-game haul or not, strike while hot, rack up W's. Buffer for later skids, data-proven that first to 30/50 holds rank endgame.
'Push now. Can restart. Rookies heating up, snag that FA infielder next year with the import bat...'
Appointed Bears skipper in 2015, Kim won it all first year. He steeled for 2018 resurgence.
Bears took 2015 and 2016 crowns—two straight. 2017 made three? Dynasty talk. But they fell to Tigers, settling for runner-up. Post-KS, the squad sharpened for the top again. One taste of victory soured silver.
Two hours pre-game, under Kim's lead, Bears dove into final strategy on Wiz starter Seo Tae-woong.
First full-batter meeting this season. Other teams might skip on a hot streak vs. a rookie with one good week. But Bears stuck to basics in good times—especially scouting the opposing ace.
They'd reviewed yesterday's data, but now: Re-ingrain pitcher type, countermeasures.
"All today's lineup and bench hitters here? Coaches too?"
"Yes, Skip. All present."
"Alright, let's roll. Hitting and strategy coaches, take it away."
"Yes, sir."
"Got it. Meeting start."
As Kim said, coaches ran it.
"Everyone got the scouting report from the analysis team on Seo Tae-woong?"
"Yes, Coach."
"As you saw last night, tricky arm. Don't sleep on him 'cause he's a rook or slow velo. Other teams got burned—know that?"
"Yes!"
Bears' hot start owed big to their top-tier new analysis crew. Last night, most foe pitchers were dissected—minus new imports. Tae-woong? New breed in KBO. Velo like Woo Hee-gang, but game management polar opposite.
They pored over his report again, then group video breakdown.
"Eyes here! Seo Tae-woong's pitches by type."