Chapter 35: No Hitter Hits .1000
No matter how Yang Ui-jin boasted a batting average over .400, an on-base percentage nearing .500, and a slugging percentage surpassing .500, it simply meant that even he ended up heading back to the dugout instead of first base about 50% of the time. And clearly, there was a corresponding weakness in that 50%.
‘At least he shows some vulnerability to outer-half pitches. It's a tiny flaw, but a flaw is a flaw. I should target it at least once.’
Of course, the moment for Seo Tae-woong to exploit it just once wasn't right now. Even if it was a revealed zone and pitch type as a weakness, throwing it multiple times in a single game could allow the batter to key in on it instead.
‘Only go after it once I've got two strikes. I'll face him at least three or four times today... Curve once per at-bat return should be just right. Anything more is risky.’
That didn't mean he could completely abandon his most frequent and effective weapons.
‘For starters... test his reaction with an inside high fastball? A low-dipping changeup on the first pitch might be too risky...’
As Tae-woong pondered, a sign came from the catcher.
The first-pitch sign from Hae-chan was a two-seam fastball hugging deep inside.
‘No. Because it's his weakness, he's more likely to hunt for low-inside sinking pitches.’
In Tae-woong's view, diving straight for a weakness on the first pitch against a batter whose bat was scorching the heavens like Yang Ui-jin was nothing but a gamble with higher odds of failure than success.
Tae-woong shook his head, signaling his refusal to Hae-chan.
Confirming Tae-woong's rejection, Hae-chan quickly folded and unfolded his right hand, glowing with fluorescent nail polish, sending another sign.
A crap-ball pitcher like you— a fresh rookie no less— gets a catcher who respects the pitcher's input like that. Lucky bastard, lucky.
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Yang Ui-jin, the .400 hitter casually slapping 155 km/h fastballs, faces off against Seo Tae-woong, the slowest pitcher in the KBO right now. What do you make of this matchup, committee member?
Whoosh. First pitch: a four-seam fastball fading just outside the zone.
“Ball!”
‘No movement on pitches that ride away too far, as expected. Alright, this time a changeup digging deeper inside.’
Crack.
A glancing foul off the bat.
A real man goes outer half three straight.
“Shut it. Inside changeup this time.”
Whoosh.
But Yang Ui-jin dropped his bat halfway and froze; the pitch bound into the dirt right in front.
“Ball!”
“Aw, that's a shame.”
Think a .400 hitter earned that on playground dibs?
‘Count's 2-1. Now what?’
Sometimes jumping ahead a beat works wonders.
‘Not wrong... but you're acting suspicious all of a sudden?’
Can't trust a guy, huh.
‘You're not a guy.’
Sheesh, just trust me once.
‘Eh, once won't hurt.’
And so Tae-woong signaled to Hae-chan, who was calling for a four-seam, that he'd go curve instead—and fired right away.
The instant he released, he felt a great snap from his fingertips gripping the ball.
‘Nailed it!’
Whoosh.
The perfectly executed curve proved Ace's plan worked as Yang Ui-jin awkwardly nicked the bottom.
Crack.
Batter Yang Ui-jin caught on a fly to right field.
Stamina restored equal to pitches thrown against the batter.
Oh! He barely nicked that dropping outer-half breaker! Yang Ui-jin's heading to first with his head down. The ball sails over the infield to right! Right fielder Yoo Ha-jun reads it and backpedals... and he hauls it in! Great play on a tough one. Two outs!
See that, crap-ball? That's me.
Seo Tae-woong: Not just a name, huh.
What'd you think it was?
Seo Tae-woong: Snack material to me. The kind I wanna crush to dust.
The hell, man! After all I've done to raise yo—
‘Here comes the lecture.’
Tae-woong ignored Ace and prepped for the next batter.
‘Oh Jae-wan: under .200 against lefties, weak low-inside, high zone, and changeups. No slacking, but no need to overthink.’
Hae-chan, noting Tae-woong's curve dropping right where he wanted today, called for inside curve first pitch.
Tae-woong nodded this time and let it fly.
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Oh Jae-wan called over the on-deck hitters in the waiting circle, asking how it felt facing Tae-woong.
“Watch out, hyung. Doesn't matter strength or weakness—can't sit on what you want. Saw him shake off the catcher's signs a few times; guy's thinking on the mound, tough to predict. Slow velo messes your balance too. And the ball's heavier than it looks.”
“Off-speed in general?”
“Changeup's average at best? But the curve's insane. You time the fastball, then bam—something 30-50 km/h slower drops in.”
“That bad? You're exaggerating.”
“Nah. Tall guy, long arms, three-quarters delivery but drops from the second deck! Plummets right at the plate—unless you're sitting pure curve, hard to square it. Even if you do, tough to drive it fair with authority.”
And just as Oh Jae-wan got the tip-off, Yang Ui-jin had skyed a curve high, head bowed.
Crack.
“See? Nearly vertical drop—no good angle for solid contact.”
“Yeah... Ui-jin popped up too. Guess the ball's got some life, like you said.”
‘Tricky bastard. Every pitch pokes a hole in your guesswork...’
He'd studied Tae-woong's footage since yesterday but hadn't cracked it yet.
‘Curve and changeup are his bread-and-butter, right? Screw the rest—hunt just those two. Let's see ‘em.’
Decision made, Oh Jae-wan strode to the plate.
“Crush one and come back, hyung!”
“You got it. Wait up—big rip incoming.”
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It's all over his face, y'know.
Seo Tae-woong: Huh? What's showing?
Look at that face. Screams, ‘Curve? Changeup? Bring it.’
Seo Tae-woong: I'm no mind reader. But yeah, eyes full of fire—he's gunning to crush anything fringe.
So, first pitch—what're you throwing at a guy geared up like that?
Seo Tae-woong: Weak high zone, so inside high fastball?
Buzz. Works when you're ahead in count and hitting 140 km/h. Pass.
Seo Tae-woong: Low outer slider fading away?
Not best, but decent Plan B. Not ideal here.
Seo Tae-woong: Then what? Spill it.
Tch, impatient punk. You've got solid command and a big-drop curve. Batter's sitting on exactly that.
Seo Tae-woong: So shove a curve right in the zone like he wants? This damn game system trying to tank me...
No, idiot. Who said throw what he's hunting? Think: he spots his dream pitch in his dream spot—what's he do? Stand there?
Seo Tae-woong: Swing like hell, obviously.
Right. Now factor your curve's drop. What if that "low" curve bottoms out in the dirt?
Seo Tae-woong: Swing and miss at minimum—grab the count ahead. And even if he touches it, knee-high or lower turns into pop-up or grounder for the out.
Bingo. Geez, dense one. How'd you play so long without this basic?
Seo Tae-woong: Command sucked—couldn't hit the zone on will. Had to try to know. Till release, my goals were "don't hurt" and "shove it in somehow."
Yeah, brag about sucking at baseball. Anyway, first pitch like I said. If he swings, I'm right. If not...
Seo Tae-woong: If not? What? Spit it out—don't leave me hanging!
Tae-woong urged Ace, dying of curiosity.
Then textbook from there. Weak to changeup, right? Spam four-seams and changeups till he breaks.
‘Irresponsible jerk...’
But unlike his gripe, he decided to follow Ace this time.
‘Looks solid to me. Should ask more often.’
Tae-woong relayed the sign to the catcher and went into his motion.
‘Can afford lower than expected—just don't sail high... clear the noise.’
As if shaking distractions, Tae-woong closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
No matter if Oh Jae-wan touched his curve or not.
It was low enough for a ball call from the start.
‘Eat this!’
And finally, the ball left Tae-woong's left hand.