The Bears' Counterstrategy
Schwing.
The massive projector on the meeting room wall replayed Seo Tae-woong's pitches from the exhibition games up to the previous match, in perfect sequence.
"Four-seam, two-seam, slider, changeup, curve. Max velocity on the four-seam fastball is around 125 km/h. He mainly throws the four-seam, changeup, and curve."
"We haven't seen the curve in a real at-bat yet, but I asked some seniors from other teams, and they said it was the best curve they've ever faced..."
"Yeah, the toughest pitch in his arsenal is definitely the curve. Even just from the video, that trajectory..."
The batting coach's words trailed off.
How do you even handle that curve?
Even if it were him facing it, he couldn't think of a clear counter.
It wasn't that sharp in the exhibition games... but at some point, it suddenly got way better.
Of course, pitchers sometimes transform 180 degrees off one tiny trigger.
But... this change is way too drastic. What the hell did Coach Jeong Myeong-eon do...?
The projector now showed batters whiffing helplessly at his curves—empty swings for strike three, or flinching at the timing and freezing for a called strikeout.
Seo Tae-woong's curve had excellent spin and velocity, with a big, sharp break that dove viciously.
If that curve hooks well today... we're in trouble.
If it were just a typical pitcher with good breaking stuff but slow velocity? There were standard ways to handle them: ignore the best off-speed pitch, attack the others, run up the pitch count until they self-destruct.
The problem was Seo Tae-woong's aggressive style of grabbing counts ahead. And at just 125 km/h max—a velocity rare even in high school, unthinkable in pro ball.
But there had to be a reason he succeeded with such slow stuff.
First, see how he comes out in the first. Rely on luck? Damn it...
A batting coach was supposed to give answers. But staring at the analytics team's data, he felt pathetic for coming up empty.
Still, opportunity remained.
No pitcher in the KBO is uncounterable! Not like MLB anyway!
Even with one killer pitch, he didn't rely solely on it.
If we can't target pitches, go after his pitch sequencing and game management.
The batting coach reignited his resolve and queued the next video: Seo Tae-woong's crafty sequences and strikeouts.
Yes! That's it!
After watching intently, he spotted a workable plan—not ideal, but maybe solid.
"Alright, everyone, pay attention."
He slowed the footage of Seo Tae-woong's strikeout patterns and spoke.
"You'll see it if you watch closely: Seo Tae-woong is super aggressive. No idea where he gets the confidence at that velocity... And today, he'll probably attack the strike zone from the first pitch, just like this."
The hitters watched the loops repeatedly. As it wrapped, the coach gave his final advice.
"We attack from the first pitch. He hardly throws changeups outside the zone as bait."
"Got it!"
"Swing at anything that looks like it's coming close to the zone. Got it? Force him out early and burn their bullpen."
"Yes!"
"Meeting adjourned. Good work, everyone. Let's give it our all today."
"Thank you! Good work!"
Finally, Manager Kim Tae-hyun chimed in.
"Alright, today's starter is slower than our Hee-gang. No fear! Let's tee off and send him packing!"
"Um... Manager, what if—just hypothetically—this doesn't work?"
"Curious?"
"Yes, sir."
"Really curious?"
"Yes, I really want to know."
"The worst performer today goes to Double-A to find out."
"Gasp."
"Wanna go?"
"No, sir!"
"Then get out."
"Yes, sir!"
The Bears finished their precise analysis of Seo Tae-woong, ready to pound him off the mound.
The Jamsil Baseball Stadium brimmed with fans, buzzing with hype for the rookie ace out to shake off three straight last-place finishes.
Chilly just days ago, now forsythia bloomed around the park, spring's warmth enveloping it.
Prime seats behind home plate were packed, including one table piled with chicken and empty beer cups before first pitch. A sharp-looking couple sat there.
The guy wore a Bears jersey—back "29. Woo Hee-gang," front "Yuna's." The girl had a Wiz jersey—back "92. Seo Tae-woong," front "Ha-il's."
Arms linked, they chatted sweetly, looking perfect together.
"Honey, our Tae-woongie will pitch great today, right?"
"Eh...? But Bears are winning. Honey, Wiz is going down anyway. Re-bak-ryang's famous line: Teams that go down go down! Down team is down! DTD!"
"W-what? DTD? You wanna fight?"
"Ah... s-sorry. You know that's not it."
"Hmph... Anyway, against Woo Hee-gang, Tae-woongie has to outpitch him at least..."
"Pfft, of course our Tae-woong beats Woo Hee-gang!"
"What? Ignoring a five-year 10-win lefty? Woo Hee-gang's five km/h faster!"
"Hey! Jeong Ha-il! You yelling at me? Ugh, I'm upset. Going home. Watch alone."
She stood like she meant it. Ha-il scrambled low, grabbing his girlfriend Yuna.
No way! First girlfriend in 30 years! Can't lose her...!
"No! Honey, why would I yell? I'm not like that! You know!"
Yuna softened a bit, pausing and sitting.
"I'm sensitive today. Watch your words."
"My bad. Honey, forgive me? Our baby thirsty? After first, I'll grab more beer at the convenience store?"
"...Fine."
"Got it! Wait a sec. Right after first."
"Yell once more, I'm really gone."
Then the stadium announcer boomed.
"Please rise and face the Taegukgi straight ahead."
Their chat ended as they stood for the anthem. Jeong Ha-il sighed inwardly in relief.
Damn... That's why I hate coming to games together. Why only at the ballpark? And our Tae-woongie? Screw you, Seo Tae-woong! You bastard! This is your fault!
Rustle rustle.
Why's my ear itching all of a sudden?
Tae-woong rubbed his ear while stretching alone in front of the dugout.
"Someone cursing me? You again, Ace?"
Nah, I was watching the cheerleaders. But if you want, I can start cursing now. Late, but game?
"No cursing or anything. Just shut up for once."
Need curses? Say the word. I'm always ready to roast you—for your own good.
"Never seen a crazier game system... Gimme something else besides curses."
What do you want?
"Skills. Skills. Skills."
Can't do that.
"Then at least a velocity boost ticket."
Tricky.
"Not that? Then ten enhancement tickets. Five, even."
Tae-woong begged, but Ace was ice-cold.
"Dude, not even one?"
Tae-woong, you're pathetic.
Anthem, first pitch ceremony done, the game kicked off with the upbeat announcer.
"Baseball fans across the nation, hello! I'm Ha Myeong-jae, your caster today! Joined by commentator Heo Gu-ra and Park Jae-ho! Hello!"
"Hello!"
"Yes, hello! Heo Gu-ra here. Great to see you, fans."
"Hello! Park Jae-ho."
"Chilly yesterday, but look at the stands—fans in short sleeves and jerseys now."
"Heh, perfect day for ball."
"Speaking of, Park Jae-ho, you were devouring those buns pre-game."
"Saw that? Should've said something—I had varieties."
"Too tasty-looking to interrupt."
"Hahaha."
"Game on. Top first, Wiz batting."
"Yes! Lineups:"
Crack!
Ha Myeong-jae was breaking down the Wiz lineup on the broadcast graphic when a crack echoed through baseball's biggest park, Jamsil.
Leadoff Rohis attacked the first pitch, swinging hard—but mistimed Woo Hee-gang's outside breaking curve that dived out of the zone. Weak contact: shallow infield fly.
Second baseman Kim Jae-hong gloved it without moving. One out.
"Rohis swings at the first but tops it. Pops up shallow. Kim Jae-hong takes it—Woo Hee-gang with a smooth first out!"
"Hee-gang's stuff is so nasty—one curve snags the leadoff hitter. Mood booster, right?"
"Yes. That looked like a curve—slid two balls wider outside."
"Next, Wiz super rookie Kang Baek-ho, scorching lately!"
"Showing out every game. Big night ahead?"
But against expectations, Kang Baek-ho fell behind 1-2 after four pitches.
Whoosh!
Woo Hee-gang's fifth—a slider sliding outside—fooled him completely.
Whiff strike three!
"Strike three swinging! Woo Hee-gang with two quick outs. Smooth top first! Can he keep it to the end?"
"Great drop at the plate. No wild ones outside. Bright face—He's on today."