The Slugger's Swagger
'Park Min-chae, sophomore. Top speed 142 kilometers per hour. Decent control. Fastball, curve. Two-pitch mix. That curve has a sharp break. Especially on days when he's commanding it well, he'd be tough to hit...'
Sitting on one side of the dugout, gazing up at the mound, Yoo Min-hoo calmly pieced together what he knew about the opposing pitcher.
Generally speaking, throwing breaking balls puts a lot of strain on the arm. That's why it's best for elementary school pitchers to hold off on them. Once they reach upper middle school, learning a breaking ball that suits them—and throwing it without overdoing it—helps prevent injuries. Of course, it's always wise to minimize any pitch that taxes the arm.
High school level, a two-pitch arsenal is plenty. Yoo Min-hoo himself had been a three-pitch lefty back in the day—fastball, two-seamer, curve.
As Yoo Min-hoo observed Park Min-chae, the pitcher went into his windup, scraped his left foot against the dirt, and whipped his arm through a three-quarters delivery.
The fastball came in on the outer half, well-controlled and clipping the edge of the strike zone. Kwon Wan, tracking it closely, pulled it lightly with a flick.
Tok. The ball sailed over the first baseman's head and trickled toward right field.
The right fielder scooped it up quickly and fired toward second, but Kwon Wan had already pulled up at first, stripping off his protective gear.
Cheers erupted from the North Myeong High students watching nearby.
Nice swing, Yoo Min-hoo thought with quiet admiration. It was a technically flawless hit.
After that, North Myeong High wrapped up the top of the first: No. 2 Baek Ji-woo grounded out, No. 3 Kang Jae-seong flied out, No. 4 Lee Ho-seok drove in a run with a timely single, and No. 5 Kim Woo-bin struck out.
With a run scored right out of the gate, the North Myeong dugout buzzed with energy.
"Gyeong-sang High isn't off to a great start," Park Ha-na muttered as she snapped photos. Lee Young-gon, who had been silently watching the game, clicked his tongue.
"It's not a bad start for them—North Myeong just played well. Kwon's hitting technique has improved even more."
Overall, Park Min-chae looked solid, if not better than that. He'd given up hits to Kwon Wan and Lee Ho-seok, but he'd handled Baek Ji-woo, Kang Jae-seong, and Kim Woo-bin with stability.
Those first-inning hits were just well-executed at-bats by Kwon and Ho-seok.
By then, the bottom of the first was underway, and Kim Ji-seok took the mound. He dispatched Gyeong-sang High's 1-2-3 hitters with groundouts, another groundout, and a strikeout—cleanly ending the inning.
Watching him, Lee Young-gon let out a low whistle.
"Looks like his stuff has gotten sharper. You bring the speed gun?"
"Huh? It's in the car. Want me to grab it?"
Lee Young-gon shook his head at Park Ha-na's question.
"Nah, I'll get it. Keep shooting photos."
The next North Myeong at-bats were the bottom of the order anyway. He and Park Ha-na had come to cover Lee Ho-seok and Kim Yong-soo—no need to sweat the lower lineup.
While Lee Young-gon headed to the car, Park Min-chae retired the 6-7-8 hitters in order to close out the inning.
Sighs rippled through the North Myeong supporters.
Soon enough, Lee Young-gon returned with the speed gun. After the switch, Kim Ji-seok stayed on the mound, and Kim Yong-soo stepped to the plate.
Lee Ho-seok, settled behind the dish, glanced toward the on-deck circle where Kim Yong-soo was taking swings, then shot a look at the dugout.
The hitting coach signaled: avoid an aggressive matchup, even if it meant an intentional walk.
Ho-seok sighed inwardly.
His underclassman Kim Ji-seok was an aggressive, straight-shooting pitcher. Lately, with his velocity up, his confidence had soared. He'd even talked pre-game about facing him head-on. No telling if he'd obey the bench sign meekly.
Sure enough, when Ho-seok called for the sign, Kim Ji-seok shook his head.
But Ho-seok bore down hard, demanding the pitch. Reluctantly, Kim Ji-seok threw a breaking ball off the outer edge.
Kim Yong-soo didn't chase it—just watched impassively, bat still.
The second pitch dove high and tight, but again, Yong-soo held back. If anything, he yawned provocatively, lazily swinging the bat in the air a few times.
"Yeah, run away. Chicken shit."
He muttered it loud enough for Ho-seok to hear, but the catcher didn't flinch.
Kim Yong-soo took a straight walk and trotted to first.
Watching his casual stroll, Yoo Min-hoo chuckled inwardly.
Pretty damn relaxed.
Top high school hitters usually wanted to swing for a hit, but Kim Yong-soo showed no such itch.
Is this what they mean by the top Korean high school hitter's poise?
As that thought crossed his mind, someone approached the bench where Yoo Min-hoo sat off to the dugout side.
"What's your take on that Kim Yong-soo kid?"
It was Director Park Sung-tae.
Yoo Min-hoo was on the reserve bench, a spot rarely visited by coaches during games. The other players eyed the director curiously.
As they started to stand, Park Sung-tae waved them down with a hand and stared toward the field—specifically first base.
Yoo Min-hoo met his gaze silently before replying.
"Great hitter. Not many like him even in the States."
"Figured as much."
Park Sung-tae nodded, then leaned in with a quiet voice meant just for him.
"What if you faced him?"
"Strike him out."
Yoo Min-hoo shrugged, answering without hesitation. Park Sung-tae burst out laughing, clapped him on the shoulder, and headed back to the dugout.
Watching him go, Yoo Min-hoo rested his chin on his hand, eyes on first base, and murmured to himself.
If my left arm were healthy, I could fan him easy.
That was the pride of the once-hyped top lefty prospect in America.
Right now, though... fifty-fifty?
He smirked and shook his head.
Meanwhile, Kim Ji-seok finished the inning, and the teams switched.
"They're really dodging a showdown with Kim Yong-soo."
"Yeah. But damn, Kim Ji-seok grew a ton over break."
Lee Young-gon muttered while checking the speed gun. Top velocity: 145 km/h. Impressive.
"At this rate, they might avoid him all game."
Park Ha-na sighed in frustration. Lee Young-gon chuckled and shook his head.
"Doubt it."
Kim Ji-seok's got that hot-blooded streak—he won't keep taking bench signs lying down. And he's looking sharp today...
Odds were high he'd force the issue.
With Kim Ji-seok dealing, Gyeong-sang High's top order struggled, and the bottom couldn't muster much. Through three innings, he'd kept them hitless aside from the walks to Kim Yong-soo.
North Myeong High, meanwhile, tacked on another run off Park Min-chae in the bottom of the third, making it 2-0.
Top of the fourth: Gyeong-sang High's No. 2 hitter led off. Kim Ji-seok walked him, then allowed a grounder that advanced him to second. One out, runner on second.
Enter Kim Yong-soo, striding to the plate with that same easy confidence, bat loose on his shoulder.
The bench signaled again: no straight matchup. Kim Ji-seok scowled and shook off the sign.
Ho-seok called time, pulled off his mask, and trudged to the mound.
"What's the deal?"
Arms crossed, Ho-seok stared him down. Kim Ji-seok shot back.
"I wanna face him. I can get him."
Ho-seok scratched the back of his head roughly.
"Can't. Bench says play it safe."
"I'm confident."
Kim Ji-seok's eyes burned with resolve. Ho-seok glanced toward the dugout.
No coaches stirred, even with time called. His eyes met Director Park Sung-tae's.
The director stared back impassively and flashed a sign.
Catcher's call.
"..."
Ho-seok pondered, then fixed him with a serious look.
"You really sure?"
"Yes. Totally confident, hyung."
Ho-seok nodded, clapped his shoulder, and headed back.
Kim Ji-seok rubbed rosin into his right hand, blew on it, and loosened up.
Ho-seok settled in, mask on, ready behind the plate.
Kim Ji-seok wound up and unleashed it.
Ppeok!
"Strike!"
The pitch caught the outer corner. Kim Yong-soo watched it go by, impressed inwardly.
Ho? Check this out. Totally different from before.
Yong-soo relaxed and reset. Another strike-zone invader—this one low and inside.
Ttak!
The bat connected, but the timing was off; the ball rolled foul down the line.
"Hmmm..."
Down 0-2 in a flash, Yong-soo let out a groan-tinged breath. That swing had been overpowered.
Ho-seok called for a breaking ball to waste one. Kim Ji-seok shook it off—dead set on empty swings with heat.
Ho-seok tsked inwardly and signed slider instead, setting up.
Kim Ji-seok twisted, powered his grip, then whipped through with the motion's momentum.
As the ball screamed toward the mitt, Yong-soo's eyes flashed. Ho-seok cursed under his breath.
Ppak!
The bat crushed it dead-center. Yong-soo thrust both arms skyward with a roar and jogged to first.
Ho-seok jammed a hand under his mask to rub his eyes. Kim Ji-seok stared after the flight.
The Gyeong-sang dugout exploded in cheers.
The drive kept carrying... and cleared the fence. A two-run game-tying homer.
"Perfect blast," Lee Young-gon whistled softly. Park Ha-na gasped in awe.
"Incredible. Like a pro homer."
"That raw power swing? Rare even among pros."
Lee Young-gon muttered, then glanced at Kim Ji-seok on the mound and tsked pityingly.
Ignored the bench sign to challenge him... hope he's not rattled.