Jeju High's Ace Isn't Park Moon-won? That Looks Like a First-Year Pitcher
"Isn't Jeju High's ace pitcher Park Moon-won? That looks like a first-year pitcher no matter how you slice it?"
Park Sung-tae muttered with a puzzled expression, and pitching coach Han Myeong-hwan beside him chimed in.
"You're telling me. Never seen that pitcher before..."
Even if Jeju High was the weakest team, a pitcher who looked like a first-year starter must have been pretty famous back in middle school. But the North Myeong High coaching staff had zero intel on the guy now standing on the mound.
"No matter how little info we have, there's no way Jeju High has a pitcher who can shut down our lineup."
Jeju High was weak. And being on an island was a massive disadvantage. For that reason, even with decent treatment, it wasn't a school that dreamers aiming for pro ball would choose.
"Hmm."
Han Myeong-hwan's words made sense, but Park Sung-tae couldn't shake an inexplicable unease.
North Myeong High's lineup for today's game was as follows:
1. Kwon Wan (3rd year)
2. Song Yu-bin (2nd year)
3. Kang Jae-seong (2nd year)
4. Lee Ho-seok (3rd year)
5. Ha Tae-hoon (3rd year)
6. Park Chang-sik (1st year)
7. Oh Seung-min (3rd year)
8. Lee Jae-hoo (2nd year)
9. Jeong Su-geun (3rd year)
The standout part was first-year Park Chang-sik slotted in the sixth spot. He'd been named MVP in the Gyeongnam region back in middle school. Naturally, he'd made waves right after enrolling at North Myeong High and had locked down a starting role from the first half of the league season. It was a lineup that showcased Park Sung-tae's philosophy of pure merit-based selection.
Ha Tae-hoon in the fifth spot was also exceptional as both a pitcher and a hitter—a rare two-way player in high school baseball.
"Coach, you sure this is okay?"
"Of course it is."
From Jeju High's dugout, a coach voiced his concern to the manager, who shot back as if there was no issue.
Jeju High's manager was Shin Jeong-gil, 37 years old—younger than Park Sung-tae. The reason he'd become a manager so early was straightforward. A Jeju High alum, he'd gone pro as a pitcher but spent his career as a career minor leaguer. His only first-team appearances were about ten mop-up games. At 32, still young, he'd chosen to retire.
Nothing surprising there. The pro path wasn't kind to those weeded out by competition.
After that, he'd worked for his team for three years, coached at a university for one, and now he was back at his alma mater as manager.
Shin Jeong-gil had taken over mid-last year, but Jeju High hadn't suddenly become a powerhouse. Their region was nominally Busan-Jeju, but Jeju High was the only high school team from Jeju Island. They kept the team alive thanks to being the island's flagship school and support from the education ministry and amateur baseball federation.
Even so, they occasionally produced talents with tournament experience and a fair share of pros—but the island's isolation, tough practice game schedules, and other constraints were hard to overcome.
But constraints or not, as a new manager, he had to win. And for that victory, Shin Jeong-gil had played his ace card: starting a first-year.
"This is our best shot right now."
The coach sighed at Shin Jeong-gil's words.
Leadoff hitter Kwon Wan stepped into the lefty batter's box and glanced up at the mound. The pitcher up there was tall but baby-faced.
A first-year, huh.
With his keen eye as the table-setter, Kwon Wan clocked the opponent's first-year status and settled into his stance.
Jeju High must really be hurting for arms.
Muttering to himself, Kwon Wan approached the plate with a lighter heart.
As the playoff sign came down, the pitcher—who'd been standing blankly on the mound—Lee Soo-min, turned to the catcher. His expression was unreadable as he casually set up, raising his glove to his chest and staring at the sign.
Lee Soo-min went into his windup, arm whipping overhead. His left arm snapped forward, stomping the rubber. The ball rocketed off his hand and buried itself in the outer half, just off the strike zone.
Kwon Wan narrowed his eyes watching it.
That's pretty fast. Looks like Ji-seok territory at first glance...
Kim Ji-seok's velocity had climbed this season, and with form tweaks, he was consistently hitting 145 km/h tops. For a first-year to match that was impressive.
But control looks nonexistent anyway.
Lee Soo-min fired again. This one high. Watching it miss the zone, Kwon Wan was convinced.
No control. Just raw speed.
As Kwon Wan predicted, Lee Soo-min had zero command. He walked Kim Ji-seok on four straight balls, tilting his head in confusion. Against the next hitter, righty Song Yu-bin, he plunked him on the thigh with his first pitch. Song Yu-bin glared murderously, while a flustered Lee Soo-min kept apologizing profusely.
In a flash, it was top of the first, no outs, runners on first and second. Lee Soo-min was showing utter lack of control.
"Ball's got heat, but no command."
As Park Soo-yeon commented and Yoo Min-hoo silently eyed Lee Soo-min on the mound, a voice came from behind.
"Whoa there, you a North Myeong High player?"
Yoo Min-hoo turned to see a man in a dress shirt.
"Yeah. Who're you?"
"Name's Lee Young-gon. Just a reporter."
The man introducing himself as Lee Young-gon continued.
"You're the guy who struck out Kim Yong-su three times in that practice game last time, right?"
"..."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded with a subtle expression.
"That outing stuck with me. Sorry, mind if I get your name?"
"Yoo Min-hoo."
"Yoo Min-hoo... Yoo Min-hoo. Third-year?"
He jotted it down in his notepad. Yoo Min-hoo said flatly.
"I'm just a bench guy, not even a regular."
"Still, you shut down Kim Yong-su clean."
"Luck."
"Impressive luck, then."
Lee Young-gon pointed his pen decisively. Yoo Min-hoo thought to himself watching him.
This guy's no ordinary joe.
"Got a bunch more questions, but seems personal, so I'll skip for now... Anyway, Jeju High trots out a total unknown. Looks like a first-year."
Shifting from Yoo Min-hoo, Lee Young-gon looked up at the mound.
"Decent velocity, but zero control. Pitcher's freezing up as a first-year. North Myeong should cruise today, huh?"
"Dunno..."
Yoo Min-hoo contradicted him.
"Looks harmless, but he's a monster."
Lee Young-gon shot him a quizzical look at the mumble.
"Monster?"
"Just talking to myself."
Yoo Min-hoo waved it off and looked back at the mound.
From what I remember, Lee Soo-min's high school career ERA was 0.87...
When Lee Soo-min signed with an MLB team after graduation, it had been big news. An Asian rookie nearing 100 mph. The $3 million signee who'd posted sub-1.00 ERAs in world tournaments and domestic comp—a monster rookie.
ERA of 0.87. And Jeju High wasn't a powerhouse. He'd pitched a ton as a first-year.
That's not his full arsenal.
And if Yoo Min-hoo's hunch was right, this was just the warmup.
No outs, runners on first and second—Lee Soo-min looked rattled. Jeju High's bench was sweating too.
"Can't throw as instructed after all..."
Shin Jeong-gil muttered, clutching his head.
Lee Soo-min. Stuff was legit insane. Problem was, he couldn't follow the catcher's calls. They'd drilled control endlessly, but it wouldn't click overnight.
"Coach, what now?"
The coach asked worriedly. Shin Jeong-gil sighed deeply.
"What do you mean, what?"
Resigned, he said.
"Tell him to throw whatever."
Cleanup hitter Kang Jae-seong strode up casually. Opposing pitcher had heat but no command.
As Kang Jae-seong settled in, a new sign went up from Jeju High's bench. Lee Soo-min's face changed.
Kang Jae-seong took his stance. Lee Soo-min wound up, tensed, and unleashed.
Thwack!
The sound differed from previous catches. Kang Jae-seong froze watching it.
Inner-half heater. But this wasn't the same ball from the dugout view.
Way better up close.
First strike in the zone all day. As Kang Jae-seong puzzled, Lee Soo-min fired again.
Swinging at the same spot, Kang Jae-seong scowled. Ball dove elsewhere.
Why's it wiggling like that?
Two strikes in a blink. Now Kang Jae-seong sensed this wasn't what he'd expected. Velocity and movement had flipped. Like full throttle just kicked in.
Gritting his teeth, he choked up for contact. Lee Soo-min wound again.
Kang Jae-seong timed his swing. But the ball beat the bat to the mitt.
Thwack!
"Strike! Out!"
The ump's call rang huge in Kang Jae-seong's ears.
As expected.
Yoo Min-hoo muttered inwardly watching the three-pitch K.
First two at-bats, he wasn't going full gas. Sandbagging for control.
But from the third hitter, Lee Soo-min flipped a switch. Probably got the "let it rip" sign.
Lee Soo-min's the simple type.
Simple meaning overpower-and-plunge. His fastball's nasty movement made it work.
This just got tricky.
Yoo Min-hoo sighed.