Huh, Was That a Two-Seam?
Lee Young-gon was watching the current situation with great interest. He had felt a bit deflated when Kim Ji-seok was suddenly pulled from the mound. But from the moment Yoo Min-hoo took over, something about the atmosphere felt off, and seeing Yoo Min-hoo throw a highly polished two-seam fastball had skyrocketed his excitement.
That two-seam wasn't just mediocre. It had remarkable completion.
From the scoreboard, the angle breaking in on the right-handed batter looked razor-sharp. Just seeing that gave a good idea of the pitch's quality.
If he has a completed circle changeup and two-seam despite lacking overpowering velocity... From Gyeongsang High's perspective with no info on him, he could be a solid joker card. At that level, he might even handle a full inning.
Lee Young-gon was sketching out the game's flow in his mind when the person next to him spoke up, sounding utterly perplexed.
"Lee. I have a question."
"Hm? Ah, yeah. Logan. What's on your mind?"
Lee Young-gon responded amiably in fluent English to the foreigner beside him, inviting any question.
"That pitcher."
"Yes."
"Has he always been in Korea?"
Lee Young-gon felt puzzled by Logan's gravely serious tone.
"Hard to grasp the intent of the question, but... he popped up suddenly at the start of this year. Why do you ask?"
"What's his name?"
"Yoo Min-hoo."
"Yoo? Oh my God. Then the odds are he's that player!"
Lee Young-gon stared in shock at Logan's outburst.
"That player? You know him?"
"Of course."
Logan gawked incredulously at Yoo Min-hoo on the mound and shouted.
"Roy Yoo! He's one of the top rookies ranked in the U.S. high school pitching TOP 10 until the end of last year! He was being talked about as a first-round pick!"
Lee Young-gon's baffled expression turned to astonishment as he looked at Yoo Min-hoo. This bizarre player who had dropped from the sky was America's top pitching prospect.
Yoo Min-hoo, having induced a groundout from Lee Moon-seong, lightly stomped the mound, took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders.
One reason Yoo Min-hoo had learned the two-seam was to induce groundballs against aggressive right-handed batters.
Got one out for now.
Next up was No. 3 hitter No Kyung-hwan, right-handed—a core batter in Gyeongsang High's lineup. He produced lots of line drives, with the skill to direct the ball where he wanted. More aggressive than cautious with the bat, but Yoo Min-hoo figured this at-bat would be different.
Yoo Min-hoo took a light breath, set his stance, and eyed No Kyung-hwan. He exchanged a glance with Lee Ho-seok, then fired.
Crack!
"...!"
Yoo Min-hoo, who had thrown a fastball to the same spot as before, hesitated seeing No Kyung-hwan swing without pause. But the timing was off; it fouled back into the netting behind home plate.
Hmm. Thought the two-seam would make him hesitate a bit.
Not at all. From that swing, Gyeongsang High's batters were still aggressive.
Yoo Min-hoo caught Lee Ho-seok's return toss, adjusted his cap, and reset. He stared silently at No Kyung-hwan and threw to the same spot again—this time a circle changeup. But No Kyung-hwan held back, watching it drop out of the zone for ball one.
Fastball, two-seam, circle changeup. Those were the pitches Gyeongsang High knew Yoo Min-hoo had. The one that induced whiffs was the circle changeup.
They're focusing on guarding against the circle changeup.
The speed difference between a four-seam and two-seam fastball wasn't huge, so the circle changeup was the only one disrupting timing. Lee Moon-seong had swung carelessly without knowing about the two-seam and grounded out, but now that they knew, they wouldn't fall so easily.
Yoo Min-hoo considered a slider or curve but dismissed it. His biggest edge was the lack of info on him. Throwing those might let him finish the inning easily, but it would limit his length. Those two pitches were hidden cards for now.
He took a deep breath and reset. Lifting his left leg, tensing his whole body, he kicked off the mound and whipped his arm with full force.
The ball dove into the same spot again. The circle changeup evaded the bat and dropped. No Kyung-hwan's swing sliced empty air; he scowled.
It wasn't just a strike-zone drop that frustrated him. Three straight to the same spot—and four including Lee Moon-seong's first pitch.
Count: 0-2, one ball. Numerically favorable for Yoo Min-hoo, but with his so-so velocity, a long ball was always possible. No room for complacency.
Three straight same location to one batter.
Yoo Min-hoo glanced at Lee Ho-seok, who signaled for a different spot now that the pattern was clear. But Yoo Min-hoo shook his head.
For Lee Moon-seong, the low-inside two-seam opener was for the groundout. For No Kyung-hwan, it was deliberate—he hated that spot. Indeed, No Kyung-hwan was fuming at the repeated pitches there.
Yoo Min-hoo gripped the circle changeup again and threw to the exact same location. No Kyung-hwan started to swing but checked it; the pitch missed the zone for ball two. 0-2 became 1-2.
No Kyung-hwan stepped out, grimacing and glaring at Yoo Min-hoo.
Is that punk messing with me?
The intent was obvious. He knew No hated that spot and was pounding it blatantly.
Even if I hate inside-low, keep throwing there and I'll hit it eventually.
No Kyung-hwan reset, grumbling inwardly. 1-2 count. Pitchers hate loading it to 3-2, but the next pitch was again inside-low circle changeup.
To No Kyung-hwan, this mediocre-velocity pitcher gnawing at his weakness felt infuriating. Lee Ho-seok, crouched at the plate, glanced worriedly at him.
Min-hoo, even if it's his weakness, keep throwing there and he'll hit it.
Next one to the same spot, even off the plate, and he'd likely yank it for a hit. Lee Ho-seok tossed up as Yoo Min-hoo warmed his arm.
High schoolers, even technically skilled ones, usually have physical and mental room to grow.
He reset.
No Kyung-hwan knows his weakness well, so he obsesses over it. Looks like he's overcome it at a glance, but he hasn't.
If he had, he wouldn't stress. The stress itself proved it was a weakness.
I just fan those flames. Numb his rationality a touch.
A so-so pitcher hammering your flaw? Pros would hate it; for an amateur high schooler, worse.
From windup, Yoo Min-hoo tensed, kicked off, and unleashed. Same spot again—but this time it ran straight in as a two-seam. No Kyung-hwan swung eagerly, but it jammed him inside, fouling weakly to shortstop like before.
He sprinted furiously, but the first baseman snagged it first. No Kyung-hwan, barely late to the bag, kicked the dirt in rage and hurled his helmet down.
Yoo Min-hoo had pounded the same spot to narrow No Kyung-hwan's vision. No two-seam until full count, forcing focus on the changeup.
The changeup's key role: disrupt timing. Fixated on it, No's swing was early on the fastball—and not a four-seam, but sinking two-seam.
Inning over. Yoo Min-hoo headed straight to the dugout.
Hmm.
Director Park Sung-tae inwardly marveled. Yoo Min-hoo had held the inning better than expected.
Impressive, all over again.
It wasn't velocity dominance—a psychological win. And risky for Yoo Min-hoo, yet he'd stayed ice calm. Remarkable mentality.
"Lucky break."
Pitching coach Han Myeong-hwan sighed in relief.
"Gives the next pitchers some prep time. From the bullpen guys available, for the next inning..."
"Coach Han."
"Yes."
Han Myeong-hwan looked puzzled as Park Sung-tae cut him off.
"Send Yoo Min-hoo out for the next inning too."
"Y-you sure?"
Han Myeong-hwan blinked in surprise; Park Sung-tae chuckled.
"He's still got two changeups he hasn't shown."
"Ah...!"
Han Myeong-hwan, who knew what that meant, exclaimed in admiration.
Park Sung-tae smiled faintly.
"Just hit me."
As Yoo Min-hoo returned to cheers from the team, Park Sung-tae continued.
"That kid might be our joker."