The Defensive Fairy
As a right-handed pitcher, the moment I planted my foot on the rubber, third base naturally filled my view.
It was the same third base I always saw, yet something about it felt off today—probably because of Shane standing right in front of it, flashing me a wide grin that showed every one of his white teeth.
Before the game he’d told me to leave third base entirely to him, then cracked me across the backside with that massive hand of his and walked off.
Watching that giant of a man crouch low, waist bent, ready for anything that came his way looked a little awkward… and somehow completely reassuring at the same time.
If I hadn’t seen him in defensive drills, I probably would’ve been a nervous wreck right about now…
When the Hawks’ leadoff hitter Park Dong-ho stepped into the box, the crowd’s roar rolled through the stadium like thunder.
True to the Hawks’ reputation for never being outdone in cheering by any team, they came out swinging from the first pitch.
We did have a small pocket of our own fans over on the third-base side, but compared to other road games the numbers were clearly thinner. Maybe it was the distance—Seoul to Busan really is about as far as you can get in this country.
The Hawks had finished as runners-up the year before last and third last season; this year they were sitting in third again through the first half.
The Raiders, still waiting for Kwon Jong-jin to find his old form, were clinging to second place by their fingernails while the Hawks nipped at their heels.
As a side note, the Jaguars—who had been third until mid-first half—went into a free-fall after that little incident with me, dropped all the way to fifth, and had only just clawed back up to fourth. They were still trading places with the Unicorns every other day.
Back to the present: the Hawks, locked in a second-place scrap with the Raiders, had won yesterday, but the Raiders had also won, so the gap stayed exactly the same—two games.
Today the Raiders were sending out Grant Visner, the guy tied with me for the league lead in wins. Tomorrow it would be Juan Sanchez. And their opponent was the Dragons, a team that still looked completely hopeless this season. In other words, the Raiders had a very real shot at sweeping the series.
Our starters, on the other hand, were me and Barnett. The Hawks had Dean Norris and Lee Jung-gwon. They’d used their ace yesterday and gotten the win, but the remaining two games clearly favored us on paper.
That was why Ko Mandeok and I both figured they’d come out swinging from the jump. If the Raiders swept and the Hawks dropped both remaining games, second place wouldn’t even be the issue anymore—they’d start feeling heat from the two teams fighting for fourth.
Whether it worked or not, aggressive at-bats were pretty much their only option.
“If they want to swing, just let them swing.”
It wasn’t like I’d learned all those pitches just for a moment like this… but I had a feeling it was going to work. Softly lure them in, then put them away.
Bottom of the first. Leadoff man Park Dong-ho stepped into the left-handed batter’s box.
I painted the outside corner with a fastball for strike one, then came inside with a two-seamer on the second pitch—just a hair more inside than the zone. Park’s bat came flying out.
Crack.
The ball missed the sweet spot and rolled weakly toward third.
Now it was all on Shane.
He charged the slowly rolling ball, scooped it cleanly with that giant bare hand, and fired to first without a single hitch.
“Out!”
It was a speedy leadoff hitter and a soft grounder; any hesitation or bobble and it would’ve been a sure single.
“Wooooooah!!”
Our handful of fans on the third-base side all leapt to their feet in shock.
They say the good ones just make it look easy.
He’d told me he’d played third before, and he’d looked smooth in practice, but a tiny corner of my mind had still been a little worried…
“Holy shit…”
I never expected him to start the game like that.
I gave him a thumbs-up for the play. He just shrugged like it was nothing.
Okay, that was actually pretty cool. I was stealing that move.
Next batter was another lefty. The Hawks were rolling out three straight left-handed hitters in the first.
Number two, Han Min-ho, was a lot like our own Ko Young-soo—gifted at making contact and capable of dropping the occasional bomb. A strong two-hole hitter.
I got him to swing through a slider that ran away outside, then came back with a changeup inside.
Just as expected, the Hawks hitters had zero interest in waiting today—the bat came out again immediately.
Problem was, the changeup didn’t drop quite as much as I’d wanted.
Crack.
The second it left the bat I knew it was a hit. He’d squared it up perfectly.
I turned toward third with a disappointed sigh…
“Huh? What the hell?”
Why was he already pulling the ball out of his glove?
That giant, freakishly athletic human had apparently jumped and snagged a ball I was certain was a single.
I was less amazed than just plain stunned—I didn’t even manage to thank him right away.
“…Th-thanks.”
When I finally got the words out, he shrugged again.
I was definitely stealing that move.
“Strike three! Out!”
I finished the inning by punching out number-three hitter Chae Jin-hak.
Looking back, without Shane that first inning would’ve been at least one hit, maybe two.
I would’ve trusted Park Jeonghun to handle the first grounder, but you never really know. And the second ball? Even Park Jeonghun wasn’t catching that one. Only Shane’s height and vertical leap made it possible.
But Shane apparently had no intention of limiting his impact to defense alone.
CRACK!
Watching his swing from the on-deck circle sent chills down my spine.
From the silky-smooth adjustment to the inside pitch all the way to the bat flip he’d only recently learned after joining our team—there wasn’t a single thing you could criticize.
“Is today actually going to be one of those days?”
Early in the season, when the bats were exploding, pitching had felt effortless. As the year wore on the offense had slipped back into its old habits and we’d suffered through more than a few ugly low-scoring games…
But games that started this smoothly from the first inning usually ended well.
First game of the second half. I had a good feeling about this one.
Crack.
“Hyung, that guy’s insane.”
“No kidding. Why the hell was he ever playing right field?”
I’d already lost count of how many plays he’d made.
Today it felt like Shane was single-handedly handling the entire defense. He was vacuuming up everything.
There were even balls the shortstop should have taken that Shane simply snagged first.
“His range is actually ridiculous.”
“Looking at the way he’s hitting, maybe he’s just in one of those zones…”
“Yeah? If he played defense like this every single night he might’ve made the majors on glove alone…”
“I don’t know about that far, but yeah—he’s really damn good.”
I was throwing a shutout and had already collected a hit of my own. Yet Shane, with back-to-back homers and that absurd defense, was vacuuming up every single spotlight.
Not that I minded. I loved it, actually.
Great defense, runs on the board, and if the media was busy gushing over him maybe they’d leave me alone for the postgame interviews.
What was there to hate?
Shane’s defensive masterclass lasted until the seventh.
Once the score ballooned to 8–0, Manager Park finally gave the hardworking third baseman a rest. Park Jeonghun moved back to third, Choi Min-gi returned to short, and the second-base job went to rookie Park Chung-ho instead of Hong Jong-min, who’d had a rough game the day before.
I came out too. I’d only thrown seventy-four pitches, but Manager Park wanted the change and I was fine with it. With a lead that big there was no reason to go nine. A complete-game shutout would’ve been nice, sure, but it wasn’t something I absolutely needed.
The pitcher who took the mound after me was another rookie—Jang Hak-yeon.
In the bottom of the eighth, with Park Chung-ho—one of the three highly touted rookies this year who hadn’t gotten nearly as many chances as the pitchers—now at second, the baseball gods did what they always do: the first ball of the inning went straight to the new guy.
A ball that looked maybe a little deep to his left. Park Chung-ho gloved it backhand without much trouble and flipped lightly to first.
“…He’s good too.”
It was only one play, but Hong Jong-min’s grip on the job was looking shakier by the minute…