Rookie vs. Veteran: Blocking the Historic 100th Win

Having shaken off their early-season slump, the Hana Eagles rose to become the undisputed most popular team in the KBO, topping the charts for sellout crowds and leading viewership ratings every single game. In fact, Eagles games drew at least double—sometimes three or four times—the ratings of the other four matchups on any given day. Put bluntly, on days when low-rated games between unpopular teams aired, a single Eagles broadcast outpaced the combined viewership of two or three of them.

And high ratings meant massive ad revenue for the broadcasters, so they weren't about to let the opportunity slip. Plus, the Eagles made for prime content—easy to work with, no need to sensationalize. They were already the team with the most come-from-behind wins in the 2018 season, earning their nickname Marihana for the addictive drama they delivered on the field.

Swoosh.

During the production meeting, the PD pulled one of the files the writers had gathered.

"Let's go with this for tomorrow's pre-game special. Best visuals by far."

After much deliberation, the PD settled on pitting veteran Dustin Napert's chase for 100 wins against rookie Seo Tae-woong's bid for a fourth straight victory since his debut.

The writers scrambled, pulling together data to craft the script, and recording kicked off.

The announcer and the two ex-pitcher commentators—as prepped by the PD—gave their quick takes, careful not to favor either side out of respect for the fans.

"So, panelists, who are you backing?"

"Personally, I'd give the edge to Dustin Napert."

"Napert? Why's that?"

"He got a late start this season since he didn't pitch early on, but in his last four outings, he's gone over seven innings each time, with his fastball velocity up about 3 km/h. He's dominating hitters. If he's in normal form today, I expect more of the same."

"I'd back Seo Tae-woong. Sure, his innings aren't quite at Napert's level yet, but his pitching is incredibly efficient. If his main curve and changeup bite like they should, he'll shine even brighter."

Though it was just a 20-minute pre-game special, online viewership and comment sections showed massive buzz around the Napert-Seo Tae-woong showdown.

But while the internet buzzed with "Tae-woong or Napert?" and "Wiz or Eagles?", the man at the center of it all had his pitching coach by his side, laser-focused on his final warm-up tosses before taking the mound.

He checked which pitches were sharp today, which ones weren't controlling well, confirming his command was on point—high zone, low zone, inside, outside, and dead center. Five locations, one pitch each.

Starting with his four-seam fastball—the foundation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of all pitches—then his ace curve, slider, two-seam, and finally changeup.

On the 25th and final toss, the silently watching pitching coach spoke up.

"Tae-woong."

"Yes, Coach?"

"Did you tweak your changeup grip? It's dropping a bit more than last time."

True to his mastery of the changeup, Song Jun-woo had spotted the subtle shift just from watching.

'As expected... he noticed right away.'

Just as he'd anticipated, Tae-woong grabbed a ball from the yellow bucket nearby and demonstrated his grip.

"Not really a grip change. I just eased up a touch on the pressure from the tip of my middle finger at release, and it's dropping better now."

"Huh. You've got better feel for the ball than I thought, kid."

"Oh? Thanks."

Song Jun-woo was genuinely impressed, no suspicion—just pure admiration. A 1mm shift or a single thread off, and it all changes. For a rookie to figure it out solo?

Lately, Eagles pitchers were mastering changeups and two-seams as go-tos, racking up strong results. The coach had planned to teach Tae-woong a custom changeup during the All-Star break, but now? No need.

"If you're feeling good, toss two more? Four-seam first, then changeup."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

Whoosh! Thwack!

The ball flew on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a four-seam plane before plunging in front of the mitt. Catcher Choi Ji-hoon dipped his glove at the last second to snag it.

"Good work, Tae-woong. Ji-hoon, come here."

"Yes, Coach!"

Choi Ji-hoon pulled off his mask and jogged over, having caught the pitches.

"About half a ball's difference? What do you think?"

"Coming right off a four-seam, same release point, same arm speed, drops right in front—should play great in a game."

"Think it'll hold up live?"

"Yeah. Drop wasn't huge before, but velocity match is near-perfect. Command's solid too—can bury it low in the corners."

"You good to keep throwing it like that, Tae-woong?"

"No issue. Already dialed in."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The trio agreed to bump the changeup usage higher than usual today, wrapping up warm-ups.

"Thanks for the help."

Finished syncing with his battery mate Choi Ji-hoon, Tae-woong headed to the lounge in the locker room for some rest.

The Eagles' vets and coaches went out of their way to ensure their starter stayed in peak condition, giving him the hour or so before game time alone—home or away.

The room wasn't huge, but it had a bed to lie on and a plush sofa to lean back against.

'Wouldn't have dreamed of this normally, but hey, starting pitcher today...'

Leaning into the sofa, Tae-woong finally checked his phone for the fans' scorching reactions.

'Holy crap. Win or lose today, someone's eating dirt.'

Of course, popularity had zero bearing on his zero desire to lose.

'Lineup's gotta score for the W, but innings? I'll outlast Napert.'

Today's goal: stay on the mound longer than Napert.

That's when his eyes flicked to Ace, glued to the same article on his phone.

'Wait... this could work?'

"Ace, since it's like this, hit me with a flashy mission?"

-Ace: What? Mission? Gave you one yesterday. Total scam-level one! Forgetful much?

"Come on, that one's end-of-season at best. This one's meaningful—blocking the first foreign pitcher's 100 wins?"

As Tae-woong said, his opponent today was Wiz starter Dustin Napert. He'd burst onto the scene with the Bears in 2011 as their ace. In 2016, he powered their back-to-back Korea Series titles while logging 167.2 innings, going 22-3 with a 2.95 ERA to claim the win title.

But in 2017, mid-30s wear started showing. The Bears cut him, seemingly ending his shot at 100 KBO wins as the first foreigner.

Then Wiz, seeking a solid #2 to pair with ace Fairband, signed him—extending his career dramatically. At 99-48 heading into today, Napert aimed to etch his name in history.

"And I'll be the one stopping that monumental first foreign 100-win! Four straight's just bonus."

Tae-woong's bold pitch sold Ace.

-Ace: Damn it, fine. Here's your mission—block it if you can!

'Nailed it!'

Tae-woong clenched a fist out of Ace's sight as the mission popped up.

Ace had flexed some creativity, prioritizing blocking Napert's win, with Tae-woong's victory secondary. Blocking Napert didn't guarantee Tae-woong's W, after all. His job: fewer runs allowed before Napert got hooked.

"Conditional rewards, huh."

-Ace: Don't like it? Merge 'em into one? Suits me fine. I wouldn't mind watching the shitballer flail in the mud longer.

"Nah, it's perfect! Super satisfied! Locked in—no take-backs."

Block Napert and win? Ten B-grade tickets. But his greed didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stop there.

"Hey, can't you just bump control or pitch stats direct? Why tickets?"

-Ace: My preference—respect it. Don't want 'em? Skip. I don't care.

"You petty jerk. Whatever, nap time."

Tae-woong set his phone alarm and closed his eyes. Next time they opened, the crowd would chant his name from all sides.