The Ceremonial Pitch Mix-Up
“Alright, it's about time for dinner, so let's wrap up the meeting here?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds good.”
“Sang-un, any idea what's on the menu tonight?”
“They said roast duck today.”
“Nice. Not pitching tonight, so I could go for two bowls.”
The others looked hungry too, nodding in agreement.
“Nothing else to add?”
“No, sir.”
Just from the meeting alone, anyone could see the Eagles had a great team vibe. From the start of the season, they'd trust their starters unless it was dire, letting them go at least five innings even if they gave up runs, watching quietly from the bench. For the bullpen, they capped it at two straight outings, never pushing three in a row. No physical or mental strain meant no complaints, and they built camaraderie through casual chats like this.
“Okay, pitchers' meeting adjourned. Let's go eat.”
The meeting ended smoothly.
“Oh, right. Almost forgot.”
Jeong A-ram, heading to the dining hall, turned back to Seo Tae-woong as if something had just clicked.
“Tae-woong, you feeling okay?”
Tae-woong paused, puzzled why he'd suddenly ask about his condition, but figured it was just senior checking on the maknae.
“Yeah, I'm good.”
“No aches or pains?”
“Nope, all clear.”
“Cool. Then mind giving a quick first-pitch lesson tomorrow, about an hour or two before game time?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow's ceremonial pitcher's a celeb. Saw you throwing yesterday and insisted you teach her. Uh... name was Lee... what was it? Hang on, promo team sent it via KakaoTalk earlier...”
Jeong A-ram pulled out his smartphone, checked the message from the promo staff, and continued.
“Ah, got it! Lee Ha-neul. Yeah, Lee Ha-neul.”
Lee Ha-neul?
Tae-woong's eyes widened. The players heading out the meeting room door swarmed back around Jeong A-ram.
“Hyung, Lee Ha-neul? No way, the super hot one from girl group White Pink?”
“Our Ha-neuli? Did she miss me shutting down back-to-back bases-loaded no-runs last week? I could teach her better than Tae-woong!”
“Man, our team's blowing up. Girl group members requesting first pitches when they top charts every comeback.”
“Yeah, new song dropped too. Pretty good. Tu-ru tu-ru tu, tu-ru tu-ru tu, tu-ru tu-ru tu, da-da-da.”
“...You sure that's the song? Sounds off. Talk to the trainer after the game, get your ears checked at the hospital. Hearing's shot.”
“Idol, right? What if she confesses she likes me outta nowhere? Got a girl I'm kinda talking to... but now I'm second-guessing.”
“Dunno if she's an idol or what, but you're definitely a total dork, dork.”
Married or single, everyone was buzzing. Only the two foreign pitchers looked baffled until the interpreter explained, then nodded.
Jeong A-ram laughed, calming the chaos.
“Quiet down, everyone. Gotta hear from the man himself. Tae-woong, you up for it? It's nothing big—just show her how to toss one from the front.”
“Yes, sir! Leave it to me! I'll stake my life on it!”
Tae-woong declared it with the solemnity of Yi Sun-sin proclaiming, I still have twelve ships left.
“Good. Promo team'll text the exact time tomorrow.”
“Got it!”
The seniors surrounding him shot envious glares instead of heading to dinner. Only when Jeong A-ram suggested pics with her when she arrived did they finally move.
Crack!
-Mo Chan-min slaps an outside slider that tails away!
Hit drops in front of right field!
-Hoy's got the league's best arm right now—runner holds at third.
-Bottom eighth, Eagles leading Dinosaurs 2-0, but trouble brewing.
-Dinosaurs can't let this slip. Now two outs, bases loaded. Single ties it.
-Simpson's at 112 pitches. I think this inning's his last.
-Count 2-2. What's the fifth pitch?
Whoosh! Thwack!
-High swing-and-miss! Kibos Simpson! Strikes out Dinosaurs' cleanup Na Sang-beom on a whiff again!
Eight innings, zero runs—mission accomplished!
-Simpson's got eleven K's today in eight. That heavy 150km/h four-seam plus the big-breaking knuckle curve cooked the hitters.
-Yesterday rookie Seo Tae-woong went six, today ace Kibos Simpson eight—relievers catch a break.
-Tight two-run game, so Jeong A-ram closes the ninth.
-Zero runs in ten innings over his last ten outings. Hot streak.
-Dinosaurs'll rue missing this eighth-inning shot.
-But no giving up—baseball's unpredictable till the end.
Top ninth, Eagles got two on via walk and hit but no more. True to the commentary, Dinosaurs fought till three red lights on the board, but same result.
“Whew, she should be here any minute.”
The next day, after finishing his schedule, Tae-woong paced the indoor bullpen with a promo staffer.
“Tae-woong, almost time. I'll grab her from the entrance after a quick bathroom break. Wait here.”
“Sure thing.”
The staffer left to guide the guest, leaving Tae-woong alone.
Finally meeting her in person?
The one from his dream last night, too. Worth the wait.
“Hope our Ha-neuli gets here safe!”
Tae-woong clasped his hands, heart pounding.
-Ace: Hey, mid-30s uncle, that MV on your phone? Girl looked barely 20. This much hype? She's like your niece, niece-level.
But Ace's words bounced off Tae-woong's ears.
I watched White Pink MVs a million times in the army. Caught every variety show and drama she was on. Only joy in my 21 months. And she's my fan!
-Ace: Ignoring me completely? Delusions of grandeur confirmed.
“Shut it. What part of me hooked her? Picking strikeouts with changeups? Or whiffing 'em with my 130km/h heater?”
-Ace: If she likes your pitching, she's not right in the head. Maybe she's got the same tall-tale syndrome as you?
“Curve, huh? Kinda thought the same deep down.”
-Ace: Lost it.
“Don't get it twisted. I'm a pure fanboy. Nothing romantic.”
-Ace: Thank goodness. This borderline stalker territory.
“Stalker? I'm innocent... Wait! She's here!”
As they bantered, footsteps and laughter echoed from the entrance.
Tae-woong sensed something off.
Huh? That raspy uncle voice...?
He denied reality, firing up happy delusions.
White Pink's huge, right? May weather's nice. Four or five events a day—voice might be hoarse. Shoulda brought bellflower syrup...
-Ace: Man's voice, dude.
“Don't insult our Ha-neuli. I'll sue for defamation.”
-Ace: Sue away! Do it! Bring Melona to the station!
Tae-woong spun toward the entrance. Promo staffer first, then...
-Ace: Uncle alert.
Uncle?
An uncle followed, approaching with a grin and bow.
“Hi, Seo Tae-woong. Nice to meet you. Singer Lee Ha-neul here.”
He doffed his Eagles cap, revealing shiny hair.
“Oh, hi. Nice to meet you too. Seo Tae-woong.”
“Know who I am, Seo Tae-woong?”
“No, sorry. I'm too young...”
“Heard this song?”
He pulled out his phone, played a track.
-Bounce with me! Bounce with me! Bounce, Bounce, Bounce!
“Ah! That song! My parents belt it out drunk every time!”
“Yeah, makes sense. It's from 2000—you might not know it.”
“Born '99... Sorry.”
“No apologies needed. Mind showing me how to throw? Did some amateur ball, but pros know best, right?”
“Of course.”
“Could you teach your curve?”
“Sure. Grip like this...”
After handshake and chit-chat, they dove in.
Whoosh! Thwack!
Decent drop for an amateur, clipping the zone-ish. Catcher adjusted, but solid—curves trip up pros too.
“That's plenty good.”
“Thanks for your time, Seo Tae-woong.”
“No sweat. Quick session.”
“Uh, mind a pic for SNS?”
“Go for it.”
“Cheese!”
Click!
Tae-woong snapped selfies, got a signed uniform gift.
“Thanks! Oh...”
“Yeah?”
Ha-neul hesitated, then spoke.
“Seo Tae-woong, that injury the other day—feeling okay? Saw it live, freaked when you collapsed.”
The memory hit; Tae-woong shuddered involuntarily.
“Ah, yeah. All good now.”
“Glad. Sensitive spot—watch for aftereffects. Here...”
He handed over a business card from his wallet.
“This...?”
-Ace: Lmao, looks like exactly what you need.