Curveballs After the Homer
Following the Wiz's leadoff hitter Kang Baek-ho, the No. 2 batter stepped up—a lefty slugger named Rohis. Tae-woong had already surrendered a run right out of the gate, but he pitched on as if nothing had happened.
"It's just the bottom of the first. No big deal. All I gotta do is shut 'em down from here—no more runs."
His first pitch: a low-inside four-seam fastball stabbing at the zone.
Thwump!
Rohis had seen Tae-woong go with an inside curve to Baek-ho on the first pitch, so he took a good look at this similar inside offering.
"STRIKE!"
The ball barely clipped the zone for the call. Tae-woong's tall frame and long arms gave him a high release point, sending every pitch—even regardless of type—at a nasty angle. Inside pitches were especially brutal.
Yeah, that's more like it. Hitting that monster Baek-ho on the first pitch was the real fluke.
But no room for complacency. Baek-ho had come up hunting that first-pitch curve and crushed it. That meant the remaining eight hitters from No. 2 through 9 had probably studied him just as thoroughly.
And yeah, that's a 99.9%—no, 100%—chance they'll be sitting on your curve, kid.
Tae-woong agreed with Ace. But he couldn't chicken out and scrap the curve just because of one homer. If a starter ditched every pitch that got tagged up in a game, he'd be left with fewer than three options by the end.
And my curve isn't something they can just sit on and crush every time. Baek-ho just got lucky with his guess this once.
Choi Ji-hoon pulled the caught ball from his mitt and fired it back to Tae-woong, then they exchanged signs. Tae-woong nodded without a word.
Alright... time to bait 'em.
This time: a slider fading low and away.
Thwump!Crack!
He made contact, but the mistimed hack veered off the third-base line—a foul. In a flash, the 0-0 count flipped to 0-2.
Tae-woong took a fresh ball and fired right into the signs.
No balls, two strikes—can he lay off this one?
The lefty curve broke sharply away, with more horizontal bite than one diving into a lefty's body.
It worked like a charm. Rohis, backed into a corner at 0-2, had no time to think as the 94 km/h bender arrived. He swung desperately—not for a hit, but to foul it off and maybe snag a borderline call.
But life doesn't always go according to plan. His bat whiffed through empty air as the curve plunged.
Thwump! Swoosh!
"Got him!"
Go All the Way has activated!
For this game only: Max velocity +0.5 km/h per strikeout.
Strikeout on batter Rohis!
Max velocity increased by 0.5 km/h.
Current max velocity: 127.5 km/h.
Seo Tae-woong strikes out No. 2 hitter Rohis!
Tae-woong's got some serious guts today. After that sharp slider tailing away, he fires another low-away curve with total confidence—and induces the whiff. He's trusting his stuff against the next guy too. His command looks fantastic.
Oho, curve gets bombed on 0-0 first pitch, but he goes right back to it at 0-2 for the K? Kid's got ice in his veins. Figured he'd chicken out and avoid curves altogether.
"One homer ain't gonna scare me off. Just don't give up any more."
Thwump!Crack!
Hwang Jae-gun nicks the high first-pitch heater—but it's a liner right at first baseman Kim Tae-gun, who steps on the bag himself! Two outs!
Thwump!
"STRIKE THREE!"
Strikeout on batter Yoon Sung-min!
Max velocity increased by 0.5 km/h.
Current max velocity: 128 km/h.
Tae-woong's fourth pitch dives in with sink—Yoon Sung-min watches it, but the ump calls strike! Down 1-2, he goes down looking. Tae-woong gives up a solo shot to Kang Baek-ho but escapes the first with two Ks and a grounder!
That nasty curve is breaking wickedly left-on-left today. Seo Tae-woong's command is on point.
"Hey, you see that?"
Yeah, saw it. Can't remember much else, but that confident first-pitch curve to Baek-ho turning into a solo homer? Crystal clear.
"Nah, not that. The next three guys."
I got short-term amnesia or somethin'—that part's fuzzy... Wait. Wh-who the hell are you?
"Get lost. Givin' you three seconds. 3, 2..."
Ace vanished before Tae-woong could hit 1.
Crack!
The Eagles' ironclad leadoff, Lee Young-gyu, battled back to foul off a 147 km/h four-seam on the fifth pitch—but its sheer heaviness turned it into a routine fly to right. Out.
"Napert, alright."
"Yeah, bro. Dude's unreal."
"...Hey, Tae-woong, you sulkin'? I didn't mean it like that. You pitched great too."
"Nah, hyung, I'm not mad. Just jealous for real. Super jealous."
Back in the dugout after the first, Tae-woong sat with Park Sang-woon, watching Napert overpower the lineup.
That fastball's not just quick—it's heavy. High spin makes the tail messy. If he nails the corners, hitters won't square it up easy.
These days it was a bit faded glory, but not long ago, Napert had been voted by KBO hitters as the king of four-seamers—and there he was, on the mound. At 203 cm with arms longer than most Asians, he unleashed max 156 km/h heaters averaging 150. His ultimate weapon.
Though when I measured up close at spring camp, our arm lengths were only off by like 1 cm. But no one's arguing with that velocity and life right now.
Especially chest-high heat or the deep-inside gas like the one to Lee Young-gyu—impossible to handle.
Quick, heavy, awkward swing plane. Perfect combo.
And Napert's weren't just fast; the spin was elite compared to others. The raw authority alone transcended KBO levels, plus the unfamiliarity. Almost no one in the league matched his height, so hitters struggled. Some said his pitches felt like they dropped from the second deck.
Sure, his four-seamer still ranked top-tier, but it had dipped from his peak a few years back. Yet the Wiz slotted him as No. 2 starter for a reason—and he proved it.
Thwump!Crack!
Napert at 2-1 fires the fourth—Song Kang-min nicks the fading breaker outside, but it's a weak roller to second baseman Park Kyung-seo, who flips to first. Napert sets 'em down 1-2-3!
Napert's slider-to-cutter chain is dialed in today. Eagles hitters are in trouble. But hey, stay tuned—the chance will come. It always does.
We'll take a quick break and be right back.
Now it was Tae-woong's turn.
If Tae-woong had to pick his best pitch, it'd be the curve hands-down. Then his pinpoint four-seam to the corners. His two-seamer, slider, changeup? Roughly equal in raw stuff.
But now, his changeup tumbled even sharper.
Big deal? Just one off-speed getting easier?
Nah—not even close.
His arsenal? Fastball. Faster fastball. Fastest fastball. That's it.
"Roger Clemens?"
Bingo. The Rocket—seven Cy Youngs, most ever. Guy dominated post-WWII MLB with just four-seam and splitter when three pitches weren't enough. Sure, steroids tanked his rep later.
"So what? You want me to juice up?"
Am I nuts? Your game's better than steroids anyway, cheater. Won't get caught—nobody else sees or hears it but you.
"Get to the point."
Before the splitter, how'd Rocket manhandle lineups for nearly a decade on fastball alone?
"Size? Or just straight gas?"
You a first-grader? Seven years old?
"Then what?"
Pace control. One pitch type, but vary the speed—faster, slower—on command. Disrupts timing without off-speed. Even you could do it sans curves.
Disrupt the batter's timing. That hit home.
Ultimately, pitchers chased velocity and power to dominate one-on-one battles. But did Yankees closer Aroldis Chapman's 169 km/h Cuban missile leave hitters helpless?
No way. No matter how fast, reps let 'em adjust. And those monsters aren't one-of-one.
Even elite velo and spin had limits. Human bodies couldn't sustain the strain forever.
Key? Beat 'em without max-effort gas. How? Steal timing with slower stuff.
"Hold up... I got that. Fastball. Faster fastball. Fastest fastball."
Tae-woong sounded enlightened, but Ace wasn't buying it.
...Bullshit, but spit it out. I'll humor ya outta pity.
"Curve's the fast one. Changeup's faster. Four-seam's the fastest. Boom?"
Loud and clear, Fido. Nah—slow ball, slower, slowest. Where's your shame?
"Ahem... way to make a guy feel dumb. Anyway, time to hit the mound?"
Tae-woong capped his cheeky nonsense and headed out of the dugout—to where he belonged.