No Ball, Two Strikes
Because their performance backed it up, both opinions were accepted without a single minor objection. The coach watching Hae-chan and Tae-woong wore a broad smile. From a strategy coach's perspective, nothing was better than players thinking for themselves and playing baseball, rather than being force-fed instructions.
"Ah, Coach, we want to twist the signs one more time starting this inning..."
"On the spot? Sure, good idea. We need to keep the Bears from figuring it out, so let's take a look together. It won't be too complicated, right, Hae-chan? We don't have much time before you head out."
"Yes, it's simple, so I'll explain right away. First..."
As the brief strategy revision meeting wrapped up among the strategy coach and the battery, the Wiz's offense timed perfectly to end.
"Let's go, Tae-woong."
"Yeah, hyung. Take good care of me this inning too."
The strategy coach returned to his spot, and the two bumped fists to steel their resolve.
In the top of the 4th, Woo Hee-gang allowed three runners after one out on shortstop Kim Jae-hong's error, a hit, and a hit-by-pitch. Facing the bases loaded, he induced a groundout with a changeup that faded outside to escape the jam.
Thwung.Thwack.
"Striiike!"
Tae-woong's curve started outside and darted in just a bit. Leadoff hitter #1 Choi Jun-hwan, up first in the bottom of the 4th, waited for it to sail high, but the pitch dropped nearly vertically right in front of home plate for a strike call. Even for Choi Jun-hwan, vulnerable to curves, getting caught so easily on the first pitch stung.
Standing still, his count worsened. Hearing the umpire's strike call, Choi Jun-hwan's mind raced.
He's a tough one. Is it the command? How does he sequence like that?
Choi Jun-hwan couldn't easily grasp Tae-woong's pitch sequencing. Sure, they had Woo Hee-gang on the same team for years, steadily posting good numbers with 130 km/h stuff, but their types were worlds apart from the start.
Woo Hee-gang's style varied wildly depending on each umpire's unique strike zone tendencies. Especially against umps stingy on outside calls to righties or low-inside to lefties, he'd struggle to snag strikes, leading to walks followed by forcing pitches into the zone, hits, and runs.
But this guy's different... If he were the same, it wouldn't be this hard.
Of course, as teammates, they rarely faced off outside spring training red-white games, but he had a rough counterplan.
Don't swing at fading pitches, only attack ones coming into the zone, wait for mistakes.
He wasn't the only one who knew. Every hitter in the other nine teams, having seen Woo Hee-gang start in the majors for years, knew it too—Bears included.
Yeah, but knowing doesn't help... His offspeed has bite, and it comes at unexpected times.
So what was Seo Tae-woong's weakness? Sub-130 km/h velocity? It was a weakness, sure, but not easy to exploit. Against lefties, the ball came from way behind the batter's head—tougher than for righties. And that damn curve he'd been throwing all day, including now.
I can't read it. Even right at the plate, no clue.
Choi Jun-hwan's deliberations ended without answers, and with the ump prompting, it was time to dig in again.
Second pitch is offspeed too... Not falling for it this time.
The slightly inside curve could be called a mistake, but the result was the same. As Tae-woong predicted, the batter's eyes tracked the curve dropping sharply from high outside into the zone, frozen—and Tae-woong stole another strike easily.
Yeah, threading it into the zone is trickier than dropping below.
Seeing Choi Jun-hwan fiddle with his belt and glove instead of resetting quickly, clearly deep in thought on the next pitch, Ace's intrigued voice piped up in Tae-woong's head.
Inside four-seam fastball to the body, per the plan we just cooked up?
"Yeah, per the plan. Unless it tails in way too much, probably this time too..."
Alright? Let's watch.
"Expect good things."
Finishing the quick chat with Ace, Tae-woong skipped the sign exchange with the catcher and fired a four-seam fastball low-inside as planned, no hesitation.
Thwung.
Spotting the pitch coming body-side, Choi Jun-hwan's eyes gleamed.
Body curve this time! Thinks he can fool me twice?
No matter who called the signs, for a rookie to see him as curve bait twice in a row...
Ballsy or arrogant?
To avoid any HBP or bounced ball hitting his front foot, he pulled his left foot back slightly, tensed, and pondered.
1-1 count isn't great, but not terrible. Third pitch a fastball? He likes inducing whiffs up high.
No thud on the dirt—he thought, Dropped a bit? Still calculating the count in his head before the call, a unwelcome voice hit his ears.
"Striiike!"
What?
Squinting at the mitt, it was framed a full ball inside the body-zone edge, stretched out firm.
Framing? Ump lost his mind?
Not catching the final path, he mistook it for a dropping offspeed the catcher framed up into a strike.
Damn, can't grab the collar and brawl... Deep breath, stay cool.
Choi Jun-hwan called to his friend Hae-chan.
"Hey, Hae-chan, what was that? Framing's on another level."
Hae-chan shot back with a baffled look.
"Framing? What're you on about? Straight four-seam into the zone from the jump. Not even borderline—this was a full ball inside."
"What? Seriously, hyung?"
Choi Jun-hwan, puzzled, asked today's home plate ump, who replied instantly.
"Four-seam fastball. Right into the mitt. What's the issue?"
"Ah, no—thought it was a dropping change."
"Questions done? Let's continue."
"Yes, thank you."
If the umps were off all game, maybe—but aside from a couple iffy calls, they were textbook. Choi Jun-hwan had to concede.
Damn, his motion looks identical for every pitch—can't predict. Plus lefty stretching left forces me to keep turning my head.
Count now 0-2, crisis mode. His brain whirred.
First: slow curve middle. Second: low-inside four-seam. Third... what? Can't go down looking. Fastball? Curve? Change?
No tell from the delivery. Average-plus command, nasty breaking stuff. No more agonizing.
Just swing at anything tunneling in.
Where to this time?
Irked that Tae-woong's plans were hitting perfectly, Ace asked in a lazy tone.
"At 0-2, the hitter's swinging at anything tunneling. Easiest answer's right there."
Tae-woong dodged spoiling it, grabbing the ball from Hae-chan. But Ace spotted the mitt target and nodded.
Outside again? His weakness?
A faint smile, nod—then through his glove, left hand peeked: thumb anchoring bottom, index and middle slightly spread. Four-seam grip.
Tae-woong fired.
Thwung.
Choi Jun-hwan swung vertically as planned—the pitch grazed over the bat, sucked into the mitt.
Bwooooong. Thwack!
Struck out the batter.
Stamina restored equal to pitches thrown against that batter.
"Feels like the first inning just started?"
That's 'cause it's true. You're under one pitch total. Someone nerf this damn skill.
"Hey, take that back. Spit three times."
Can't spit, but I can hock a loogie in your ear. Hack! Ptooey!
"Get lost!"