Dugout Prayers and Rainy Victory
Leaning against the railing in front of him, Seo Tae-woong's palms began to sweat as he watched the game.
Please, just pull ahead by one more run!
If he were the one on the mound, he probably wouldn't feel this tense. But sitting powerless in the dugout, able only to cheer, hit him hard.
And Tae-woong had good reason for it.
Leading by a single run was a huge burden for the Eagles. The Twins' lineup had the long-ball power to strike back at any moment.
They desperately wanted to extend the lead, but Will's pitching wouldn't let the Eagles pull further away.
Crack!
-Grounder to shortstop. Easily fielded and thrown to first—out!
Crack!
-Caught by the left fielder. Two outs!
Damn... Hyung, Sang-yeol hyung, please just get one!
Did Tae-woong's prayers get through? After cleanup hitter Ho-iwa and No. 5 Kim Tae-gun grounded out and flied out, No. 6 Lee Sang-yeol attacked Will's first pitch.
Craaaack!
It's gone!
The sharp crack, like splitting the ball, rang in Tae-woong's ears. As the saying goes, batters feel it in their palms when the ball carries—the same for Lee Sang-yeol. Gripping tight with both hands lest it slip on the swing, he flung the bat rightward with all his might and sprinted to first.
Passing second, the drive cleared center field and easily topped the wall.
Sunday's clash of the KBO's top draws—Twins vs. Eagles—had packed Jamsil Baseball Stadium. The full house erupted in cheers.
"Wooooah!"
"Lee Sang-yeol! Lee Sang-yeol! Lee Sang-yeol!"
Eagles add one, leading 2-0!
As Lee Sang-yeol rounded the bases and touched home, raindrops began falling from the gathering clouds.
Whoosh! Pow!
"Strike three!"
Just 25 pitches over six batters in two innings. And that final four-seamer to Yoo clocked 151 km/h—plenty left in the tank.
Next batter up... Oh, the ump declares a rain delay.
Eagles head to the dugout to escape the downpour.
Rain's coming down hard on camera. Won't stop easy.
We'll be back shortly.
Twenty minutes after the rain delay call, the temperature had dropped a bit. Lee Tae-young, who'd fulfilled his role with two scoreless innings, was replaced for icing and headed inside.
Meanwhile, the rain had thickened since the delay.
Tae-woong stepped forward from the bench, arm outstretched. It was soaked in seconds.
He checked with Ace.
Seo Tae-woong: Rain like this means call game's certain, right?
Ace: Dunno weather, but ain't no quick shower.
As Lee Tae-young finished his two innings and Jang Man-jae and Jeong A-ram began loosening up, the delay was called.
Even without pitching, just warming in the pen drains stamina...
Tae-woong knew it well from countless times himself. Fatigue builds even without taking the mound.
"Hope it ends like this..."
As Tae-woong muttered, the ump—who'd checked the weather inside—emerged. Glancing at the darkening sky and intensifying rain for final confirmation, he raised both arms in an X toward both dugouts, calling the game for rain.
Over 5 innings, rainout in the 6th. So we...
Before Tae-woong could finish thinking, someone yelled beside him.
"2-0! We win!"
"That means?"
"Sole 5th place!"
The Eagles' coaches and players cheered their flipped standings.
Especially pitching coach Han Yeong-deok—no, manager Han Yeong-deok—and pitching coach Song Jun-woo, who'd gambled big on the pitching moves and hit, were overjoyed. They encouraged each player who'd battled the foul weather.
Tae-woong, who'd cheered hard, fist-bumped manager Han in shared victory.
"Tae-woong-ah, good work!"
"Yes! You too, Manager!"
Ace: This pig did jack shit today 'cept steal bananas...
As players greeted coaches, the stands brimmed with fans under umbrellas and raincoats, belting out the "Happiness Song" despite the torrent.
"I'm happy. I'm happy. Eagles make me happy."
I'm happy. I'm happy.
Eagles make me happy.
Tae-woong wanted to watch longer, but no time.
"Tae-woong-ah, let's move gear. Rain's heavy—haul it all at once."
"Yeah, hyung. Let's go."
The Eagles took 2-of-3 from the Twins, gaining a point to leap from tied 5th to sole 5th.
Quick game plus rainout meant they boarded the team bus just past 8 PM, arriving Daejeon two hours later.
The drizzle eased past Icheon, stopping by Hana Eagles Stadium.
Unloading, showers done—it was 11 PM.
Wrapping the week's slate on a high note, moods soared. Rainout victory and early exit—a double win. Ahead of their lone off-day, coaches and players scattered.
Tae-woong waved to those leaving first.
"Good work!"
Normally he'd drag home to his nearby studio, but changed to street clothes, he lingered near the parking lot.
Sunbaes had suggested pitchers' dinner-slash-late meal since the game ended early.
"So happy. Not every day, but once a week like today—rain after the 5th...
Ace: There goes your inning-eater rewards. Cool with that? Say 20 starts at 5 innings—barely 100 innings total. Slow and steady, huh.
"Ah, right! Damn! Yeah! Good weather only on my starts, rain buckets the day before and after. Fielders stay fresh, play sharper for me."
Ace: Selfish prick. You'll binge later anyway. Playoffs? Everyone's all-in, conserving stars. Your team crams rainouts late—you're screwed.
"Didn't think postseason... Hell, can't even remember my last expanded roster there."
Tae-woong realized then: regular season's not the end.
Ace: If I coached, your stats? No expanded roster. Better call up rookie arms for innings in losses—builds experience, better business.
"Hey, gotta rub salt in every wound?"
Ace: Just bones? Thought I'd stab the heart too.
Bickering flew by five minutes. Ready pitchers found Tae-woong.
"Tae-woong-ah, set? Let's roll!"
"Yeah, hyung. Right away. Huh? Where's Tae-young hyung?"
"Married with kid—homebound normal. Can't fake OT like office drones. Watched end on TV at home."
"Ah..."
Come to think, all married sunbaes save one were MIA, faces weary of age irrelevant.
Except beaming Yoon Ki-jin.
Tae-woong asked him, puzzled.
"Ki-jin hyung, you don't head home early?"
"Nah. Wife took kid to her folks—back tomorrow. I'm freeeee!"
Then his smartphone rang.
Take me to new world anywhere
Just escape this stuffy place...
Bouncing free as a rare liberated family man sans pitch, Yoon Ki-jin checked the caller.
"Hmm... Why now...?"
His face tensed quick.
Shining light light, my shining youth.
Freely fly, fly, breathe free.
Tae-woong, walking beside, spotted the big screen name.
"Ki-jin hyung, take it?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Clearing throat. Ahem."
Throat cleared, his excited tone dropped low as he answered.
"Hey, honey. Kids and mom-in-law good? What? Something up? Oh? Saw the game? Ah... Got off bus three minutes ago. Huh? Heading home? Wait, wasn't it sleepover at your folks? Oh, since I came early, just coming? Yeah... Got it."
Hanging up, Yoon Ki-jin moped.
"Family man heads home for peace. Be happy, kids."
He trudged off.
"Drive safe, hyung."
Leavers weren't the only bittersweet. Stayers watched his back, pensive.
"Park Myeong-su on Infinite Challenge? 'Delay death and marriage longer, better.' You were right."
"Alright, forget the gone—onward. Reservation's near."
Jang Man-jae resumed steps, flashing a card.
Tae-woong eyed it between index and middle finger.
"Man-jae hyung, what's that card?"
"Oi, 'that card'? GM's gift—corporate card."
"Corporate card? Why sudden?"
Team dinners often GM-paid, but this was remnant five pitchers.
Tae-woong queried.
"You traded in, straight starts—no proper welcome. GM saw your hot streak, said gather free-time folks for grub."
The crew cheered.
"Free!"
"Off tomorrow—prime ribeye, crisp beer! Kyaa! Happy pre-meal."
"Hurry! Thanks, Tae-woong! Your fault."
"No prob. Let's go, hyungs."
They sped to Daejeon's famed grill. Target: beef, Hanwoo grade.
"Charge, men!"