The Slumping Slugger
Just as Tae-woong had faced four batters in the top of the first and kept them scoreless, the Heroes' starting pitcher, Choi Un-tae, did exactly the same, wrapping up the inning without allowing a run. But unlike Tae-woong, who'd needed only 14 pitches to snag three outs, Choi had burned through 26 pitches in that single frame.
-Ace: If I were that pitcher, I'd be cursing right now. Hell, probably twice over.
"Yeah... he's cutting everything that's coming over the plate. Sure, they both ended up grounding out eventually."
As the two noted, the table-setters Lee Young-gyu and Jeong Geon-woo had failed at their first goal of getting on base, but they'd nailed the second: running up the pitch count. That rattled focus, maybe, because the next ball wouldn't obey, and he walked the following hitter, Song Kang-min, right after.
If cleanup hitter Gerard Hoig's pulled shot hadn't flown straight to right fielder Jeong Geon-woo, what little mental fortitude remained might've shattered completely.
-Ace: Yeah, like that—giving up nine pitches each to the top two right from the first? And then an hit on top? That'd break anybody.
"Does that include me?"
-Ace: What, you think you're special? One more skill and suddenly you're overflowing with confidence, you shitballer.
In the top of the second, Tae-woong climbed the mound, squeezing and releasing the ball in his left hand to keep the feel alive.
-Choice / D-grade
The opponent was fifth batter Choice.
"D-grade? That can't be right."
He hadn't met the guy in person, but the scouting team's highlight reel of Choice's at-bats didn't scream D-grade at all.
"Sure, lots of strikeouts and a subpar on-base percentage, but I remember his slugging was high. Already 12 homers this year."
-Ace: Even the best power hitters slump hard sometimes, can't bring their A-game. Natural for the grade to dip. And of course, he times it perfectly when he's been mashing—talk about luck.
"Hey, I'm not cursing any hitter to slump. Just karma for living right."
-Ace: Righty weak to splitters and curves. So you're loving life right now, huh?
"Weak to sinkers that drop off the table, uppercut swing? Prime rib."
-Ace: Can I look forward to him feasting on you instead?
"I'd love to show you right now, but I'm a little busy. Next time."
The catcher flashed the sign for the first pitch: a curve diving for a strike.
The day I hunt strikes with an off-speed pitch... feels like a dream still.
Back then? Unthinkable. His only breaking ball was a slider—and it broke so sharp and fast no one bit, usually bounding in front for a wild pitch.
Not anymore, though.
From barely locating a four-seam, now he was fooling hitters with the trickiest pitch to control: the curve.
The foreign slugger in the box, Choice, watched Tae-woong intently too.
Whoosh!
Choice's bat cleaved empty air. The ball nestled in catcher Choi Ji-hoon's mitt, then zipped back to Tae-woong's glove.
No need to drag this out.
This time: high fastball!
Crack!
The bat clipped the ball's bottom edge, sending it skyward.
"Mine, mine!"
The call came from third baseman Song Kang-min, posted deep right.
Step aside.
Tae-woong confirmed Song heading to the mound and trotted forward as the high pop settled in the infielder's glove.
"Tae-woong, big bro got this one. See?"
"Looking good, Kang-min hyung."
Tae-woong flashed a thumbs-up en route to the mound. Choice, who'd wandered toward first just in case, shook his head and trudged to the dugout.
Next up: righty Jang Young-seong, hitting .210 against lefties.
-Ace: Even if he crushes curves and changeups, no sweat.
"Head says yes, heart's not cooperating."
-Ace: Few dingers to the house might fix that. Wanna try?
"Hell no, even dead. Gotta trust Ji-hoon's signs. Better than me game-planning at my level."
-Ace: At least you don't get ego in the way. Points for that.
"Life beat it out of me. No talent and ego? I'd have been cut before 30. Coaches don't tolerate that. Survived on hustle and obedience."
-Ace: You? Never would've guessed from how you talk now.
"Wasn't always a saint..."
True enough. He'd had his arrogant phase.
Elementary kids from middle school clubs chased him. High schoolers from juco scouted him in middle. Sophomore year, his talent bloomed—world felt built for him.
KBO, NPB knocking. MLB scouts swarmed. No obstacles left.
Then he stepped off the plane in America, and that sky-high ego hit dirt.
"Never figured not speaking English would hit like a truck."
Interpreter or not, they weren't glued 24/7. Body language had limits. He crammed alphabet from scratch—his English? Hello and sorry.
"Took two weeks to memorize one to ten. Good times."
Now he spoke like a local, but once letters intimidated him.
-Ace: That's when you turned into a blockhead?
"Hey, name a Korean baseball club that studies? Haven't sat through a real class since picking up a glove. Not just me."
-Ace: Not my problem. Nobody told you not to.
"Well... no."
-Ace: Just pitch, dummy. He's ready.
Ace's infuriating timing irked him, but no choice. He redirected the fury at the batter.
If I'm taking it, you're eating this too!
Whoosh!
Thwack!
A 128 km/h fastball, rage-fueled, jammed the righty tight inside. Today's ump loved righty straights.
"Strike!"
-Ace: Did you sneak something in Ji-hoon's mitt? Why's that pop so thicc all of a sudden?
-Seo Tae-woong: That's the sound of my wrath, you smug bastard!
* * *
"Thwack! Thwack!"
Looks like that stung.
Sixth batter Jang Young-seong trudged to the plate, catching Choice's mutter as he slumped away.
Velocity's up for sure. Still under 130, but whatever. Doesn't make sense for that frame anyway.
Even on a different team, Seo Tae-woong had been Heroes buzz for a while.
Not injury or overuse surgery—he'd walked away from majors on his own. Wiz held first pick but passed, so all nine teams scrutinized him.
Unless old, fresh off shoulder/elbow surgery, no way a guy hyping MLB quit like that.
Jang had cracked the first-team roster last season, pinch-hitting defense at first or versus righties.
Not bad, but stuck there: Kim Min-seok owned third last year; this year, power bat Park Byung-hoon returned from Twins majors to lock first.
Worse, he had a fatal flaw blocking everyday starter duty.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Tae-woong's first pitch vacuumed into the mitt at his knees.
Four-seam opener? Slipped a bit?
He eased his left leg back—early game, no point risking injury.
"Strike!"
Damn! Can't read lefty stuff at all.
That .210 against ports explained it. Especially sharp-control guys like Seo Tae-woong crushed him worse.
If inside feels this tight, outside's gonna be...?
High and away. Especially from this pitcher—easily 2 meters, arms like tentacles.
Now he had to guess pitch and spot.
Won't throw inside that snug repeatedly. Gotta be outside...
Inside fastball into outside breaker: pitching 101.
Problem is, his breaker's arsenal...
Curves most often, but nasty low-away change to righties too. Rare inside sliders or two-seamers to jab the ribs.
Infuriating bastard.
Two-seam's inside to righties, so curve or change likely.
Options dwindling.
Curve? Change? Or change fake into low fastball?
Whoosh.
Tae-woong fired the second.
Drifting away. Fastball? Missing bad?
Looked like a wild pitch from Jang's angle. Then midway, it snapped viciously, boring toward the zone's edge.
Coming back!
Power guy or not, chasing it'd be foul or whiff. He pivoted.
Loosen the left arm, just meet it. Over the bag at first.
He extended the bat far outside...
Farther?!
Whoosh!
"Striiike!"
Loosened swing whiffed; Choi Ji-hoon stretched right, snaring the frog-jumping outside breaker.
Shit... rushed it. Eyes locked on that distant bait.
Now 0-2. No room for error—anything zone-ish demanded a swing.
Pick one.
Velocity gaps too wide for all three.
Throws curves like candy but fed me fastball and slider.
Curve slumping, or overuse breeds familiarity...
Issue: Was that second-pitch slider baited by their battery or just slipped? No telling.
Count's in their favor now. Whatever, they'll drop a low curve once.
Lefty batting average low, but he trusted his curve read.
Tae-woong analyzed their lineup; they memorized his two pre-injury starts.
Hold. No matter how good, it'll tail. Hold!
Jang fixated on wrist snap height as Tae-woong wound.
Whoosh!
Sure enough—outside curve!