Perfect Outs and a Pitcher's Darkest Hour
Schwing. Crack.
Kim Jae-hong was completely fooled by Seo Tae-woong's slider that dove into his body. The slider itself doesn't have overwhelming stuff, but when you're sitting on a fastball and it comes in instead, your swing balance gets disrupted for a moment.
Batter Kim Jae-hong retired on a grounder to third base.
Stamina restored equal to the number of pitches thrown against the batter.
"Honestly, a ball rolling that slow? I could've fielded it myself."
"Forget that image. It wasn't even my choice."
Bwoooong.
Batter Oh Jae-i retired on a swinging strikeout.
Stamina restored equal to the number of pitches thrown against the batter.
"Yes!"
In the end, one man expressed pity at the batter duped by the big-breaking curve, while the other voiced pure joy.
Tae-woong hadn't allowed a single runner through three innings. Confirming the stamina recovery message, he sauntered back to the dugout with ease.
"Why couldn't I do something this easy back then?"
"Whoa, so kind you're gonna head back to heaven. Thanks a ton for the bone-crusher."
While Tae-woong covered his mouth with his glove to chat with Ace, the infielders and outfielders slapped his back in encouragement.
"Thanks. Defense time's so short thanks to you—feels great."
"Yeah. It's cool now, but come June, you're sweating buckets the second you hit your position."
"True. I still remember—end of June my rookie year? Monsoon season, high humidity, 33 degrees out. Starter got yanked, reliever comes in and implodes. Stood out there 30 minutes, panties and socks soaked."
"Dude, makes me wanna puke just thinking—stop."
"Anyway, when pitchers rack up three outs this quick, it saves energy. Keeps hitters focused at the plate and in the field—results follow."
"Then we gotta prep to hit. Keep it up next inning. Light the bonfire!"
"Yes, sir. We'll do our best for the rest. Haha. Just score one run for me!"
"You got it. Park it and wait."
"Roger."
Tae-woong wrapped up the chat with an awkward grin. Memories of his past sins against hitters flooded back.
Good thing I aged into the KBO. Rookie me would've gotten every curse in the book.
Past Tae-woong had been a half-baked hack who couldn't even play his own game right. Recalling that, he remembered contributing to two KBO history-changing records.
Guess I did make sports news front pages once or twice. Just skipped the interviews.
In the 2028 season, Tae-woong shuttled between second team and farm, grinding rehab and form tweaks. After a year of endurance, 2029 season—he got the first-team call-up. Late September, no less. Postseason hopes dashed, key pitchers sidelined by injury and slump—a miracle born of desperation.
Game was already lost, bullpen coach calls me up in the seventh: 'Warm up, toss without pressure.'
Eighth inning, score 18-5. The emergency starter from second team with him surrendered five homers in the third.
Quirky record. Grand slam to start, three-run, two-run, then back-to-back solos...
The pitcher who'd held them scoreless through two lost his balance and coughed up 11 in one frame—all homers, no hits, errors, or walks. KBO single-inning runs record was 10 (Kim Kang-ik '87, Yoo Chang-sik '11)—he bumped it to 11.
Internet roasted me as 'Cycling Homerun' guy.
Before Tae-woong, prior pitchers gifted seven more. Hitters clawed back five, but by seventh-end, his team trailed by 13.
Then Tae-woong's eighth: He shattered that fresh single-inning record.
Walk-hit-walk(?)-grand slam. Then doubles, a triple... Got shelled so bad, details fuzzy. Traumatized me half a year. But now? Fond memory.
Even in a lost cause, massive innings break pitchers mentally—pull 'em after a bit. But die was cast, only one reliever left: the closer with a sub-3 ERA, fatigued from season-long use. Couldn't burn the second-team guy who couldn't locate or the confirmed closer. No bullpen depth, so Tae-woong stayed in.
He walked in one more, snagged one out, gave up 13 total—pitches nearing 60. Pitying him, two Bears batters whiffed on purpose. Head down, he trudged off.
That day, he reset single-inning runs to 13. And helped another infamous mark: Bears tacked one off the closer in ninth, topping Lions' 27 from '97 with 32.
Postgame, Tae-woong stared at his hotel ceiling. Manager snuck in, apologized profusely—they drank till dawn, just the two.
Now he could laugh it off as nostalgia, but then? Trauma tanked his command worse.
"Huh? Something happen?"
"Got it. Time to warm up. Thanks—nearly spaced out and got chewed out late."
"Never that—don't worry. Gotta find Ha-chan hyung."
Tae-woong loosened up, scanning for Ha-chan. Right on cue, Ha-chan ducked into the dugout.
Grabbing glove and cap, Tae-woong approached. "Ha-chan hyung, where'd you go? Been looking."
Ignoring Ace's jab, he pressed on. "Ah, sorry. Stomach ache—dashed to the john. Whew, close call. Catchers especially, squatting wrecks ya. Coulda been a broadcast fiasco..."
Ha-chan suited up in his abandoned gear. "Hyung, lineup's made one full turn—mix up the pitch calls?"
"Yeah, good to plan ahead. Last-minute swaps mess with shaky-command guys."
"I'll be fine, but just in case."
"Leadoff hitter, so aggressive again? Fastballs inside, curves outside zone?"
But Tae-woong countered. "Hyung, what if we stick to four-seam fastballs this inning?"
"Four-seam? Hm... Think it'll work?"
As geared-up Ha-chan pondered, Tae-woong continued. "Not all game—just fourth inning. If it clicks, run it through fifth?"
"One frame? Sure... Spill details, I'll judge."
"First pitch: outside curve for a taken ball."
"Okay, then?"
"Now they've got 'changeup early' in their heads—pure inside fastballs after."
Ha-chan nodded. "Solid so far. First-pitch slow curve bugs hitters—hard to swing, harder to time the heater."
"Exactly. Curve just once early. Then hammer inside with 30-50 km/h faster stuff."
"Yeah. Can't overuse, but one-two innings? Fine. Your call."
"Got it."
"Oh, and to avoid reads after first-pitch fastball spam, switch signs. Tell strategy coach before heading out."
"Smart. Same signs too long, Bears dugout tips 'one pitch only' to hitters."
"Perfect. Fist closed then open, all but thumb = fastball. You watch fist and thumb only. Other signs..."
Stealing signs while protecting yours is Baseball 101. Baserunning and strategy coaches dissect every foe dugout and battery move.
'Pitching with your head, not arm... who knew it'd be this fun?'
Past Tae-woong obsessed over hitting the zone—strategies like this? Unthinkable.
As they schemed, strategy coach approached. "Ha-chan, switching calls again?"
"Yes, coach. Rather than same old with lineup turning, tweak from fourth?"
"Makes sense... Hm..."