Curveball Traps and Whiffs

Schwing.

Oh Jae-wan's reaction was just as Ace had predicted.

'As expected! All pitchers are the same. They think just because it's their best pitch, they'll fire it off nonstop and I won't be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠able to hit it?'

He tensed both wrists, bending the bat until it was level with his arms.

'Alright, nail it... Wait a sec!'

The pitch was coming inside low, just as Oh Jae-wan had anticipated, but he hadn't fully grasped Tae-woong's intent. If it was going according to his expectations, the ball should have dropped from navel height to just below his knee. But the ball now entering his view was already sinking to just below knee level before it even fully dropped.

He tried to check his swing, but his body was already loaded on the left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠side, and the bat—now swung more than halfway—clipped the sharply dropping curveball at its tip.

If only he'd swung through a bit faster for a whiff, he could've sacrificed one ball count and gotten at least one more chance.

Luck just wasn't on his side.

"Damn flatbread!"

The nickname "Oh Flatbread"—born from his knack for baking great flatbread—slipped out like a curse he hadn't meant to say. But he didn't give up, sprinting full tilt toward first base. The ball could take an irregular bounce off the grass edge, or the first baseman might bobble it with a small error. And over his more than twenty years in baseball, he'd seen and experienced firsthand that luck favors those who challenge and strive for it.

'If I'm lucky, it might sneak foul!'

- Both Oh Jae-wan, who even touched that sinking pitch, and Yoon Sung-min, who scooped up a roller dropping at least two meters, are incredible right now. But in this spot, the one I most want to praise is pitcher Seo Tae-woong.

- Exactly. In slow motion, you can see the batter was sitting on his main weapon, the curve, and Tae-woong turned it against him. He threw that curve precisely low—about two balls off the zone—where even solid contact is tough. In my view, this wasn't poor control; he targeted it.

- So Oh Jae-wan fell for his own read?

- The result says yes. Though the ball was hit in a good spot, and without Yoon Sung-min's great defense...

- Alright, Seo Tae-woong has already nabbed two outs against the Bears' heart of the order. Now it's time for the 7th hitter, the bottom of the lineup. Can he keep the momentum?

- The 7th hitter, Paregis—a foreigner with the team's lowest average at .140. Against lefties, it's under .100 at .090. Still, you can't get complacent; he's got the power to send one over the wall anytime.

- In the top of the 3rd, Woo Hee-gang walked the leadoff man, allowed a steal, then fanned two straight for two outs. Then, with two down and a runner on second, his outside curve on the fifth pitch got a shortstop pop-up to end the inning.

Bottom of the 3rd.

Seo Tae-woong, scoreless through two strong innings, climbs the mound again.

- Of course, this is hypothetical, but purely on physical tools, Seo Tae-woong exceeds MLB starters' averages in height, weight, frame, and arm length—nothing lacking. Yet with his current velocity under 130 km/h, there's plenty of room for speed gains ahead.

- Yes, he's great now, but his future shines even brighter. Let's watch Seo Tae-woong in action.

The leadoff hitter for the Bears in the bottom of the 3rd was their foreign batter, Paregis. Earning $600K—the lowest among foreigners—that's still over 6 billion won, top-tier for domestic hitters. Yet Paregis showed defensive shortcomings, and in hitting, he and 9-hole Oh Jae-i were the team's only .100 averages.

'Paregis... Never heard of him.'

This was years before Tae-woong's minor league release and return. He knew names and traits of decent foreigners from teammates. But Paregis? Not even a memory—likely shipped home without fanfare later.

Still, Tae-woong didn't slack. Even a .000 hitter connects occasionally.

'Even with skills nullifying stamina drain, each pitch wears mentally... No need to grind against bottom-of-order .100 trash.'

He'd just exploit weaknesses ruthlessly.

Paregis: lefty batter, .080 vs lefties. Weaknesses: inside course, slider.

Ace, hearing Tae-woong rattle off Paregis intel from behind his glove-masked mouth, couldn't hide his shock.

Tae-woong reset his Ace expectations to zero after that nonsense.

'Thought he might help for once—guy's nuts.'

Shh shh shh.

Ha Chan’s right hand danced nimbly between his tensed thighs. But all but the second sign were decoys. The real call: index, middle, and ring fingers extended—three.

'Three fingers... slider. Memorizing signs is a chore.'

Non-fastball signs were rare, so mix-ups occasionally led to opposite-of-intended pitches sailing glove-high.

'Ha Chan hyung wants the easy out too.'

The catcher shared Tae-woong's view—no need to overthink a .100 hitter.

First pitch: slider, low and away.

Schwing.

Paregis swung hard early, sitting fastball middle. But the pitch bit sharply away at the plate, leaving the bat whirling solo in the air.

Whiff.

"Striiike!"

Confirming Paregis flailed at a plain slider, Ha Chan called another.

Tae-woong gripped slider, fired quick again.

Schwing.

Whiff.

"Striiike!"

Two straight sliders made it 0-2. Ace tsked pityingly at the whiffs on run-of-the-mill sliders.

Their bickering dragged until Ha Chan, seeing Tae-woong seemingly lost in thought, hurried the next sign.

'He'll hold off this time, right?'

Ha Chan's call: high inside fastball.

But Tae-woong thought differently.

'Two straight chases on away breakers, 0-2 count. He knows his lefty woes too. So... third pitch, curve right down the middle.'

Tap, tap.

Tae-woong, set on his choice, tapped his right shoulder twice with his index finger to signal Ha Chan.

Middle-in curve.

Ha Chan nodded to preserve the flow, thrusting his mitt forward dead center. You're gonna freeze, stare blankly, then trudge back to the dugout. Or flinch thinking it's away, sigh as it thuds home...

Tae-woong shot Ace a menacing glare, relaxed fully, and unleashed the curve—aiming just to catch the zone.

Shuuuwing.

The pitch arced high over the batter's head before diving. Paregis, rigid in the box anticipating the path, lifted his gaze to track but held the bat, watching it plop into the mitt.

Thwack.

- As I keep saying, the Bears' hitters need to respect that curveball more seriously.