Chapter 86: Thwack!
Top of the 7th! Seo Tae-woong's low-breaking changeup to leadoff hitter Kim Jae-hong connects for a hit. The Bears now face a no-out, runner-on-first situation with few opportunities left!
"Lucky hit. That outside changeup wasn't poorly located—it went in pretty well—but the ball off the end of the bat just barely missed first baseman Kim Tae-gun's glove."
Good! That's one hit! Come on, hitters, step it up!
"Whose side are you on?"
Always betting against you, kid.
"Then why are you helping? Just let me sink."
Hey, this is all part of my big plan to forge you some steel nerves. The big picture. Get it?
"No clue, you bat-like bastard."
Luckily, the team was up by two runs. If they were trailing or tied, it could've cracked Tae-woong's mentality. If it'd been squared up, fine—but a routine grounder turning into that tricky hopper...' But results couldn't be undone, so he shook it off and kept pitching.
Against No. 9 hitter Oh Jae-i, Tae-woong threw a low curve diving into the lefty's body. With solid control, his body-side curve to a lefty didn't even give the batter room to swing properly.
And against a lefty weak to inside? Perfect.
Whoosh!
"Striiike!"
Oh Jae-i ducked as it buzzed his head, pulling back, but the ump called it a strike. Catcher Choi Ji-hoon, reading the reaction up close, called for another tight body curve.
And...
Whoosh! Swish!
This time, a whiff. Tighter inside than the first, it dropped sharply from head height—Oh Jae-i couldn't pick it up. After two big-breaking curves fooled him, a high fastball inside? No reason for Tae-woong to shake off the sign. He trusted his control... and Ace was right there, pounding his own chest in encouragement.
Your stuff ain't 150 km/h—they'll dodge if they can. Throw it, no worries.
Whoosh! Swish!
Maximum velocity increased by 0.5 km/h.
Current maximum velocity: 133.5 km/h
"132 km/h high fastball—swinging strike three! Oh Jae-i goes down on strikes."
"Big-breaking curve inside, then the high heater. Seo Tae-woong may be a rookie, but he knows how to attack lefties. Saw Oh Jae-i couldn't handle the curve and went high with it—perfect execution."
"Seo Tae-woong's velocity keeps climbing. Over 5 km/h faster than early in the game."
"With command and nasty breaking stuff backing it up, he can fire better fastballs."
Next up: lefty Choi Jun-hwan, same as Oh Jae-i. Consecutive lefties from 9 to 1 meant facing the lineup's best back-to-back—a pitcher's nightmare. But same weakness? Easier for Tae-woong.
Especially if he's aggressive early.
Having just watched his teammate fold to a diving body curve, he'd be sitting on it.
Time to change his eye level?
Tae-woong wasn't short on confidence in his other pitches or too proud to mix after one good one. Choi Ji-hoon's first sign: low inside four-seam. Nod—he fired.
Whoosh! Thwack!
The corner-hugging pitch got ball one. Felt like it caught the zone... same spot they were calling strikes before.
But Tae-woong didn't grimace or argue. Not a bad count, no need to rattle the ump.
Umpires know bad calls piss people off. They judge and call on the fly—no replay, no take-backs. Can't admit faults publicly.
And they repay cool players later.
Everyone knows the unwritten code—no fuss.
Okay, breaking ball next...
Minds synced. Slider per the sign.
Thwack!
Low outside slider. 1-0 count, but the bat came anyway. Instinct to attack hittable pitches—but this was worse than laying off.
"Third baseman Song Kang-min dives! Second baseman takes the relay to the bag—lead runner out! To first—runner out too! Double play: 5-4-3!"
"That outside slider lacked bite but rode low over the zone—bat got pulled."
"Bears escape no-out first with a double play."
"Seo Tae-woong's stuff looks sharp today. Watched all his starts—changeup and curve never this good."
"Textbook leap forward."
Thwack!
"And right as I say that—Heo Kyung-man nicks the first pitch. It's up... Catcher Choi Ji-hoon rips off his mask and snags it. Seo Tae-woong allows leadoff Kim Jae-hong on top of the 7th but retires the next three. Seven scoreless innings of perfection!"
"95 pitches through seven—13 per frame. He'll take the mound in the 8th at this rate."
Bottom 7th, Lindbral struck out leadoff No. 7 Yang Sang-woo on a 149 km/h high fastball whiff, hitting 108 pitches. Sensing his limit, he was deliberate with each one.
Whoosh! Swish!
Yang Sang-woo, Ha Jun-seok, and No. 9 Choi Ji-hoon all fanned on heat—11 pitches, three quick outs. No rest for Tae-woong; straight to the mound.
Munch munch. Downing ion drink and bananas, half a fruit in mouth, glove in hand—he trudged up.
Hey, ease up on the bananas... Been five minutes since you hit the dugout?
"Yeah, about."
Stamina good? Not gonna hurl a banana mid-mound?
"Don't worry—my esophagus and stomach are tougher than anyone's."
Right. Lucky for baseball players.
"The Eagles' rising ace, Seo Tae-woong, induces a grounder from leadoff Park Geon-woong on a changeup top 8th. Follows with a curve to Kim Jae-hwang—fly to center. Now, the league's lone .400 hitter and Bears' only two-time reach today: No. 5 Yang Ui-jin."
"Seo Tae-woong's command wavers against Yang Ui-jin—walks galore. Third matchup—what'll it bring? High expectations."
Many awaited the clash, but Tae-woong's mindset was unchanged. Same approach to Yang Ui-jin. Stick to the plan.
Some might call it spineless, dodging pride. But before personal ego, he was Hana Eagles. Victory first. He'd told Choi Ji-hoon in the dugout: battle tough, or pitch around if needed—next guy.
Whoosh! Thud!
First pitch: low outside four-seam, farthest from righty Yang Ui-jin. Off the plate—he watched.
Second: dropping outside curve.
Whoosh! Thud!
"Striiike!"
Seemed a hair off to Tae-woong, but strike. They'll give it. Doesn't change much.
1-1—not bad, thanks to the gift. No greed. Third: outside-breaking curve.
...Should've been.
Whoosh!
Last release—middle finger slipped light. Damn.
And it did: caught the zone edge, Yang Ui-jin—the league's best—poked it lightly.
Thwaaack!
Tae-woong didn't look back, shaking his head. Knew it cleared the right-field wall. And the damn play-by-play guy was glued to him.
It's gone! It's gone! Ah, Seo Tae-woong gives up one! Junkballer vs. .400 hitter ends in a homer! Score: 2-1! Bears chase late, down one!
It's outta heeeere!
"Hey, just become a caster full-time."
Side gig. Can't survive on one in this economy.
"Fine, do it all yourself then."
Chill. One homer, still up by one.
As Ace said, game wasn't over. "Huuu, haaa." Tae-woong steadied his quickened breath as Yang Ui-jin touched home and the next batter approached.
Next: lefty Oh Jae-wan, weak to dropping body breakers. First pitch? Obvious.
Whoosh! Swish! Thud!
"102 km/h big-breaking curve dives inside—whiff! Oh Jae-wan loses the bat. First baseman Kim Tae-gun dodges. Strikes on the first pitch!"
"Gave up a homer on a tight curve, but Seo Tae-woong still trusts it. Gutsy—not many throw the homered pitch first next time."
"Count 0-1! Seo Tae-woong's already into his motion!"