2029 Korean Series Game 1
The two teams that had faced each other in last season's playoffs.
Last year the Raiders had come out on top and advanced to the Korean Series, but it had never been easy. Even after consecutive losses the Hawks had clung on stubbornly, posing a genuine threat. Thanks to that, our team might have had things a little smoother… they had worn Kwon Jong-jin down plenty.
Of course that didn't mean he never took the mound, but Kwon Jong-jin had clearly been struggling hard.
"That guy was the same way against us last year…"
Visner, who had been pulled after barely one inning of poor condition in Game 3 of last year's Korean Series against us. He had looked utterly dominant all season long… yet today the exact same mess from that Game 3 had suddenly reappeared.
Then came Game 3.
Instead of Lee Jung-kwon, who had been their third starter all season, the Hawks chose to start Ki Chan-su. That decision paid off perfectly.
Watching the Raiders pushed to the brink brought last year's Korean Series flooding back. Whenever crisis hit, Kwon Jong-jin would appear. So I half-expected him to step up as the savior again this time…
"Kim Seok-hwan? The Seok-hwan who used to be on our team?"
No one saw the Raiders' Game 4 starter coming: Kim Seok-hwan. He did his job cleanly against the Hawks lineup, tossing three scoreless innings before being lifted. Then their fourth starter, the sidearmer Jang Hak-woo, handled the next three. Setup man Kim Hak-young and closer Im Jong-hoon combined for the final three and slammed the door shut.
The Hawks had thrown their ace in Game 4 and still lost. The Raiders, meanwhile, had saved Kwon Jong-jin and still clawed out a win from the brink. And Kwon Jong-jin was always strong in big games.
Just like that, our opponent once again became the Raiders.
"How's the condition?"
"Ah~ feeling great."
I had been named the starter for Korean Series Game 1. Honestly I had fretted a little that Manager Park might once again push me back because of Kwon Jong-jin… but thankfully nothing like that happened this year.
In Game 5 of the playoffs Kwon Jong-jin had gone six innings with one run allowed—solid numbers. Dig a little deeper into the actual content of the game, though, and it clearly wasn't the same masterpiece he had thrown in Game 1. He had again leaned heavily on three different curves, yet the Hawks had prepared for them to some degree, so the dramatic effect of Game 1 never quite materialized.
And then—
"Just because Visner had one bad outing doesn't mean his stuff suddenly disappears."
No matter what anyone said, Grant Visner was the Raiders' ace this season. With the Raiders locked in as our opponent, we had only a single off day.
"Honey~"
I decided to spend that entire day with Han Song-yi. Call it preparation for a perfect Game 1.
Song-yi had been ridiculously busy lately. After wrapping up her announcer career with the All-Star Game, she and I had started planning the wedding. Beyond helping her pick a dress, I hadn't been able to offer any real help. Mid-season made free time almost impossible.
Instead—
"Jack introduced me to this place the other day and I went. Wow, I have no idea how Jack manages to prepare everything so perfectly."
My agent Jack had been helping Song-yi. And apparently Jack had completely won her over. "No one could help more perfectly than this," she claimed.
Anyway, even while racing around with Jack, Song-yi gladly cleared her schedule for me today. By now she had come to treat spending time with me before a big game as the most natural thing in the world. She didn't know my secret… she probably just thought of it as some kind of jinx. Whatever the reason, it was a good development.
"I'll make sure my man is perfect tomorrow."
Uh… I wasn't exactly asking for that much.
"Didn't sleep?"
"…No."
"Your eyes look hollow."
I couldn't exactly tell him I'd nearly been eaten alive by Song-yi last night. She definitely hadn't been like this at first, but lately her stamina seemed better than mine.
I finished my pre-game prep as thoroughly as I could. The ball felt glued to my hand, my shoulder light and free. The stands had filled early. When the time finally came and I climbed the mound, those fans unleashed a roar so huge it felt like the entire stadium belonged only to our supporters.
"Throwing out the ceremonial first pitch today is the Goddess of Victory of our Savers! Jo Hye-na!"
There she was again. That girl-group member. I even knew her name by now. She had thrown the first pitch on Opening Day and now she was doing it again for Korean Series Game 1… someone on the team clearly had a crush on her.
Dressed from head to toe in perfect form, Jo Hye-na stepped onto the mound. She toed the rubber, bent slightly at the waist, and took the sign from Ko Mandeok. Once again it was the knuckleball sign. I wondered if she even knew what that sign meant.
Hyeon-bin had watched her a bit today and said she threw way better than expected—he'd been shocked. Come to think of it, she had thrown decently on Opening Day too. Copying my form, she had gotten about 70 km/h out of it.
Jo Hye-na took the sign, rose, and began her delivery. Same as always, she was mimicking my form—and the polish was even higher than Opening Day.
Pop.
"Waaaaaaaah!!"
"…Crazy."
What the hell was this? The first time I saw her she had been hopping around after tossing an Arirang ball. I glanced up at the scoreboard in surprise—85 km/h was lit up.
"That…"
"You're really throwing well now."
"Ah…! Thank you! Hehe."
She had actually thrown it well, so of course I had to praise her. Ko Mandeok came scrambling over and handed her the ball, making sure to finish with a firm handshake.
With the first pitch complete, the long pre-game ceremony finally wrapped up.
A short while later the leadoff hitter for Game 1, Jo Sang-won, stepped into the box.
Jo Sang-won was choking up on the bat. The grip was so blatantly short that he clearly intended to see a lot of pitches. Still… how many times had I seen this exact approach early in a game? Ko Mandeok, watching from right behind the plate, couldn't possibly miss what Jo was planning.
"Strike!"
"Strike!"
Ko Mandeok hadn't needed to think twice—two straight four-seam signs. Then the third. Another four-seam. The only difference this time was that he wanted it up, a high fastball. Left or right didn't matter; just throw it as hard as possible.
Paaang!
Top velocity of the day. Part of me felt I could still throw harder… yet no matter how hard I tried, nothing higher than this ever registered.
Kim Min-seok stepped into the box Jo had just vacated. In the playoffs they had bumped Lee Jun, who usually played third, up to the two-hole. Did they figure Kim Min-seok was the better matchup against me? Come to think of it, I did remember giving up a home run to him once—probably the game where I was facing Kwon Jong-jin. It had come so out of nowhere that I cursed without thinking and got caught on camera. Of course I hadn't given him anything since.
"Strike!"
I took the next sign and a snicker slipped out before I could stop it. Ever since that last incident I had tried to keep the smirking on the mound to a minimum… but when it just burst out on its own there was nothing I could do.
The reason I laughed was simple… for a second I wondered if this guy had forgotten every sign except the four-seam. And the locations…
Before the high fastball to Jo Sang-won he had called two pitches inside. To Kim Min-seok the first one was a four-seam away, and now he wanted another four-seam away. Jo was a lefty; Kim was a righty. In other words, aside from that single high fastball, Ko Mandeok was demanding the exact same pitch in the exact same location every time.
"Foul."
It nicked the end of the bat and rolled foul down the first-base line.
"No way…"
It wouldn't be another high fastball, would it? Of course it was. Ko Mandeok put down the exact same sequence he had used on the previous hitter.
"Ball."
Kim Min-seok laid off the 164 km/h high fastball. Seeing the bat start and then freeze, Ko Mandeok immediately appealed to the first-base umpire, but both arms went wide.
"Alright. What are we throwing now?"
When I saw the sign that came out for Evan Cawitt I turned and checked the scoreboard, just to make sure the guy catching me right now was actually Ko Mandeok and not Jeong Jong-seong. It was Mandeok, all right…
Crack!
"How long are we just throwing four-seams?"
"Until they get a hit."
"Why?"
"Because they can't hit it?"
"…… Did you catch that from Jong-seong?"
"Yep. Learned it."
"……"
What the hell was this guy thinking?