Jarani Urology Clinic
Jarani Urology Clinic
Tel: 02-2030-XXXX
Tae-woong politely took the business card and checked it over.
"What's this?"
"Just in case, you know. This is the best urology clinic in the country, run by a top specialist. Celebrities flock here, and they guarantee total privacy."
"Ah... okay."
"If you ever need to go, just say I referred you—they'll take good care of you."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
Tae-woong thought back to his sudden regression.
Yeah, you never know what life'll throw at you... I came back to the past, but that doesn't mean a ball won't come flying at the same spot again. What if I end up getting neutered for real?
He quickly rationalized it with some mental gymnastics. Then he carefully pocketed the card so it wouldn't get crumpled.
"Alright, then I'll head back to the waiting room."
"Sure, go on in. Good work."
The PR staffer, the ceremonial pitcher, and even the bullpen catcher who'd been fielding balls all left.
"Shut up."
Left alone, Tae-woong picked up stray balls and tidied up before plopping down on the ground.
Normally, Tae-woong would've fired back without missing a beat, but now he just gawked ahead, dazed, head thrust forward like a zombie.
Ace's words fell on deaf ears.
"Ha-neul wasn't that Ha-neul... Arrrgh!"
With the ceremonial pitch training done—even if it was a bit late—Tae-woong hustled to the cafeteria for dinner.
As he entered, everyone who caught his eye burst out laughing and tossed comments his way.
"Kuhahaha!"
"Tae-woong-ah, have a nice time with Ha-neul noona?"
"Hahaha!"
"Call me when you're lonely."
"Bounce with me! Bounce with me! Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! Bounce!"
The veterans in their thirties were even belting out song lyrics to roast the rookie, while manager Han Young-deok and a few coaches, already briefed mid-meal, grinned along.
Having heard the full story, Tae-woong looked like the world had ended.
"So... everyone knew except me?"
"Yeah, about an hour ago. Heh."
"Ha... No wonder. Yesterday you all said you'd come, but when it was time, not a single one showed. That did seem off."
The brief fiasco had unintentionally turned the team into a sea of laughter.
The Eagles dugout started the game in high spirits, with tray in hand and Tae-woong despairing. But soon after the first pitch, the chatter died down.
Hiller surrendered 3 in the first on a homer. From the second through fourth, he let Dinos on base each inning, but super plays from the defense barely saved him. He escaped scoreless and seemed to regain balance—but in the fifth, back-to-back hits to the heart of the order added 2 more runs, and he was yanked.
Watching from the dugout, Tae-woong realized just how much he'd changed in less than a year.
Not just the game system boosting him 180 degrees from his old self—his biggest growth was his eye for the game.
Past Tae-woong watching Hiller? He'd have said, "Dude throws like trash. Just like me."
Makes sense. Back then, he couldn't even control his own stuff, always rushed and desperate. His vision was so narrow he barely noticed anyone else—good was good, bad was bad, no deeper why.
But now? Ace hammered baseball knowledge into his brain from dawn to dusk, nagging-advice style.
Still think I've got miles to go, but...
Compared to pre-regression? Leaps and bounds.
Even now, analyzing Hiller's hook let Tae-woong push forward another step.
Command's not bad—above average, even. The real killer is...
Hiller was like Tae-woong yet totally different: 198cm, three-quarters delivery, lefty. Differences? Early-season fastball averaged 140km/h, now up to 143-145km/h in the heat. And pitch mix mastery.
Velocity's faster than mine, command's... solid. Hmm, a notch below me though.
On paper, why yank the no.2 starter before the sixth with 5 runs? But Tae-woong spotted the fatal flaw.
No finishing pitch for crunch time against hitters.
Hiller threw a four-pitch mix: ~50% four-seam, 25% slider, 20% circle change, 5% two-seam.
Versatile for lefties/righties—textbook starter coaches love. And up to two strikes, he delivered as expected.
But nothing after two strikes.
Like Tae-woong thought, he could nibble inside to righties or low-away to lefties with fastballs for fouls. But he wasn't Greg Maddux—no way he hits spots consistently. Borderline becomes balls, or leaks middle. And these weren't chumps missing 150km/h heat like Simpson's.
No pitch forced fly balls, grounders, or Ks reliably.
Sorry for Hiller and the team, but watching this up close? Wake-up call.
Objectively, Tae-woong's arsenal: solid command backing his curve (finisher), changeup, and fastball timing tricks. Not overpowering velo, but precise low-zone control winning at-bats. Plus rookie novelty for 3 wins in 3 starts.
But curves don't last forever. Could fizzle by midseason—or next outing.
Even in just 3 games, opponents adapted more each time.
I'm analyzing them—they're dissecting me too.
As Tae-woong predicted, after his debut and follow-up gems, all 9 teams paused deep dives—until his trade and return with 3 wins. Consensus?
Seo Tae-woong's no fluke—pure skill!
One gem? Luck. Happens in MLB or beer leagues. But three in a row? Real deal.
Plus, velocity climbed in his return: 126-127km/h early, 130km/h by the end.
120s vs. 130s? Night and day—thanks to Woo Hee-gang of the Bears.
Average 131km/h (10km/h below KBO mean), yet 10+ wins five straight years. 2015: 18-5 (2nd in wins); 2016: 15-6 (3rd). Ace-level for most teams.
Flexible form eased arm strain vs. gas throwers—stayed healthy, ate innings top-tier 2014-2017.
Every team's analysts microscope'd his 3 starts. Some found counters.
Stagnate, and you'll fall back. Gotta level up—velo, command, pitch mastery.
No more minors.
The fans chanting my name. I want this roar forever.
Hiller brushed past, slumping in the corner under a towel, head down.
Tae-woong knew: coast now, and that's him soon.
I won't stop. KBO's best—no, MLB's ace, Hall of Fame bound!
He'd outwork anyone—slacked before, washed out with trash stuff.
Now? Effort plus system rewards.
Guaranteed growth.
He clenched his fist.
Won't get comfy.