The Unknown Ace's Dominance
Lee Soo-min's momentum after striking out Kang Jae-seong was fearsome. He followed up by flying out the cleanup hitter Lee Ho-seok to left field. He issued a walk to the fifth batter, Ha Tae-hoon, but wrapped up the inning with a groundout against the sixth batter, Park Chang-sik.
His command was still shaky, but thanks to his blazing velocity and signature movement, the North Myeong High batters couldn't time up his pitches at all.
That kind of stuff is actually harder to hit. Especially for a team like ours...
Pitchers who lose their command all follow the same script when they unravel. They try to work the corners of the strike zone—avoiding the heart of it—and end up missing with balls. Then, with the count stacked against them, they shy away from walks and force the ball down the middle, only to get tagged for hits.
When a reliever gets into that mess, it's a disaster for the team. That's why you avoid deploying relievers with poor command whenever possible.
In any case, Lee Soo-min didn't seem to have the control to harness his monstrous stuff yet. But...
That velocity looks like late 140s to low 150s at first glance. A pretty tall frame for a high schooler, throwing overhand like he's hammering down from above. And the movement born from his grip strength.
For pitchers, height is an advantage in release angle. The ball drops from a high plane to a low one, making it look more intimidating to the hitter. It messes with their eyes visually, and breaking balls like curves drop even more sharply from up high, piling on the pressure.
Plus, overhand delivery is one of the best forms for maximizing velocity.
The downside is the injury risk.
From what Yoo Min-hoo knew, Lee Soo-min would later switch to the more stable three-quarters arm slot in the pros.
Anyway, the walks and hit-by-pitches seemed like failed attempts at corner work. If he nailed the command on top of that velocity, it'd be a nightmare for hitters. But with his fastball flirting with 150, the release point, and that added movement, even meatballs were tough to square up.
Even if it's just a fastball.
He's the type who overpowers hitters with raw stuff...
"Where the hell did a pitcher like that come from?"
While Yoo Min-hoo mulled over his thoughts watching the inning, Lee Young-gon, who had been observing too, spoke up with a look of disbelief.
Gazing at him, Park Soo-yeon, who was sitting next to Yoo Min-hoo, asked with a puzzled expression.
"Why's he acting like that?"
Yoo Min-hoo answered her quiet whisper.
"Jeju High's pitcher's got insane velocity."
Park Soo-yeon looked confused at that. Sure, he'd pitched scoreless ball, but Lee Soo-min's top of the first hadn't been stellar—bases loaded at one point. Without expert eyes on baseball, that's how she'd see it.
But Lee Young-gon recognized the eerie talent in this first-year pitcher's stuff. As long as he stayed on the mound, North Myeong High wouldn't score easily.
"No info on him at all?"
Park Soo-yeon asked with budding curiosity, and Lee Young-gon grimaced, nodding.
"No middle or high school player worth noting slips my network."
"Pfft, that confident?"
Park Soo-yeon teased his self-assured tone skeptically. Lee Young-gon let out a hollow chuckle.
Yoo Min-hoo stifled a laugh inside and turned back to the field.
Kim Ji-seok was taking the mound for North Myeong High.
The balance tipped in the bottom of the sixth. Jeju High, defying expectations, scored first. Their lineup hounded Kim Ji-seok relentlessly, from one through nine—seeing pitches deep, choking up, fouling off everything. Drained by their disciplined at-bats, Kim Ji-seok finally yielded a clutch RBI single with two outs in the sixth and runners on second.
Score: 1-0.
North Myeong High, having surrendered the lead, wobbled in the next frame. Lee Soo-min was still on the hill for the top of the seventh.
Tough spot.
Director Park Sung-tae grimaced inwardly.
Lee Soo-min threw only fastballs. Simple enough to attack—no mix to worry about. The problem? That one pitch packed too much punch.
Bad matchup for our hitters.
That's the crux. Lee Soo-min was overwhelming them with sheer velocity. To beat that type, you need power, plate discipline, and bat speed—a perfect blend. A classic power hitter.
Ho-seok might handle it, but...
Park Sung-tae sighed, thinking of his cleanup man Lee Ho-seok. Problem was, Ho-seok was North Myeong's only true power threat. The rest were contact guys or middling line-drive hitters relying on technique.
We need something good this inning.
Leadoff for the seventh: Lee Ho-seok. No results here, and they're cooked.
***
Stepping into the box, Lee Ho-seok let out a short sigh.
Best raw stuff in our region.
He was certain. No analytical type, but no fool swinging blind on talent alone either. As captain and catcher, he scouted opponents.
And in his book, this guy's pure velocity topped Busan/Jeju. Hell, top five nationwide among high schoolers, maybe.
But not untouchable yet.
Lee Soo-min's glaring weakness: no off-speed stuff.
Though with that velo, it might not matter...
Jeju High could dark-horse the nationals this year. If the region's best lineup was stifled like this, others would suffer more.
High school leagues were brutal—one ace could carry a team all season, with a week off between games. Lee Soo-min could start every time and dominate.
Leadoff hitter Lee Ho-seok took a deep breath and set up.
Lee Soo-min matched him, going into his motion.
No matter how elite the stuff, we've seen it all inning now.
His arm whipped, the ball rocketed toward the mitt—and Lee Ho-seok met it flush.
Crack!
Lee Soo-min's eyes tracked it. The liner screamed, slamming the fence. First extra-base hit of the day. Outfielders scrambled in mild panic.
Lee Ho-seok, no speed demon, motored past first toward second. The outfielders bobbed the ball. No throw by the time he hit second—the third base coach windmilled him home.
He rounded second for third. The late relay arrived, but his slide tagged the bag first.
A triple out of nowhere. Game-changer for North Myeong; crisis mode for Jeju since the first.
Jeju players looked rattled. Cheers erupted from North Myeong's dugout.
Getting tagged hard on an 0-0 count shakes a pitcher, especially late in a long outing against the top of the order. A green first-year, no less. Jeju was cornered.
In the stands, Park Soo-yeon clapped and cheered. Lee Young-gon eyed the sudden rookie drama with keen interest.
But Yoo Min-hoo knew better.
Won't crack easy.
Among major leaguers, Lee Soo-min had ice in his veins. Stoic through chaos, lowest run rate with bases loaded.
True to form, no change in his blank expression on the mound. He just waited blankly for the next hitter.
Final score: 1-0.
Lee Soo-min, shutting down North Myeong's powerhouse bats scoreless, descended to teammate cheers.
Utterly blindsided, North Myeong reeled in disbelief.
Yoo Min-hoo, who'd watched silently, sighed softly and stood.
Lee Young-gon eyed him.
"You look like you saw this coming."
"That obvious?"
Yoo Min-hoo shrugged.
"Just braced for the worst, given their pitcher's stuff."
"Knew more than that. Scouted him before?"
"Nah, first time seeing him."
Lee Young-gon tilted his head at the grinning Yoo Min-hoo.
Not your average kid.
"Wild outcome anyway."
"Good for a reporter, right? Fresh talent."
"Yeah. Off to cover it."
Lee Young-gon left. Yoo Min-hoo rose to join the team, catching Park Soo-yeon's sigh.
"Sigh, we lost."
Bittersweet tone.
"Don't sweat it. Win the next one."
She pouted.
"Team loses, and you're all chill?"
He laughed at her glare.
"Lost the result, but not a bad game. Opener just dominated."
Gazing at the gathering North Myeong players in the dugout, Yoo Min-hoo added,
"Our team's strong. No doubt."