VS Dragons
Even after the ejection order came down, Manager Ko kept leaning on the home-plate umpire for another five minutes or so before the other umps and the head coach finally managed to haul him back.
Over in the home dugout a few players looked ready to explode out at the slightest spark, but the rest of the coaching staff seemed to be holding them in check.
None of that mattered to me or Ko Mandeok. We still had our gloves up over our faces, talking it through.
"What are you gonna do about that guy?"
Ko Mandeok flicked a glance behind him. Standing in front of the on-deck circle with his hands planted on his hips, watching Manager Ko retreat into the dugout, was the Dragons' captain, Choe Hojung.
"Beats me. What do you think works?"
"Hmm..."
"Just go after him straight up. He might look like that, but if you hang one he'll take you deep."
"Yeah, true."
"No point screwing around and catching a big one—that'd just piss me off. Let's finish him quick."
"...When you say finish him, does that mean we actually finish him?"
"Well... heh heh."
"Heh. Then we'll get the count with the four-seamer and put him away with the slider. His inside is strong, so we work the outside hard—in and out."
"You make the hard stuff sound ridiculously easy."
"You handle it fine."
"...Got it."
"Good. I'm heading out?"
"Yeah."
Choe Hojung stepped into the box and Ko Mandeok put down the four-seam sign exactly as planned. Low and away, just nicking the zone.
I could see Choe grinding his teeth. The way he glared at me while gripping the bat, he was clearly hunting for one massive swing.
I set against Ko Mandeok's mitt—the same mitt that always seemed to believe anything I threw would find it—and waited for the pitch.
I thought about missing by a ball's width, but when has anything ever gone exactly the way I plan? The ball I tried to miss sailed straight into Ko Mandeok's mitt instead.
If it hit him it hit him... but the result that came out was worse than a simple hit-by-pitch.
Thwack!
"Ugh!"
Baseball, tennis, golf, table tennis—any sport where you swing something at a ball follows roughly the same sequence. Setup, contact, and then always the follow-through.
That follow-through is bigger in baseball than most other sports. You have to unload the full-body torque of the swing, and because baseball uses a level swing instead of golf's under-swing, the bat naturally carries farther around the back.
A catcher sits outside that arc so he doesn't get clipped. One accidental bat to the head and you're not playing a sport anymore—you're putting a man in the hospital.
And yet... Ko Mandeok took Choe Hojung's bat square in the head.
"You fucking piece of shit..."
No matter how big the swing path, a catcher should never get hit by the bat. A human waist only rotates so far, and the bat's reach is fixed by that.
Choe Hojung blew right past that limit.
How?
Simple. He let go with one hand. That single release stretched the bat's arc farther behind him. At the same time the front foot that should have stayed planted in the box lifted and spun, taking his whole body with it.
The bat came whipping around from way outside and smashed straight into Ko Mandeok's skull.
The second Ko Mandeok went down I was already leaping off the mound, the curse flying out of my mouth before I even thought about it. I didn't care.
Choe must have heard it, because his eyes bulged and he stepped right into my path.
"Move."
"What?"
"I said move, you bastard. You hit him and there's a guy lying on the ground—you don't see that?!"
He'd blocked me on pure reflex after the insult, then realized a second too late what he'd done.
I shoved him aside harder and dropped to one knee beside Ko Mandeok.
"You okay?"
"Huh? Y-yeah... I think I'm fine."
He was blinking and answering, so at least it wasn't as catastrophic as it looked. Still, a bat to the head is a bat to the head. Worry sat heavy in my gut.
"Any dizziness?"
"I'm good, I'm good. Just need a second."
"What are you talking about? You need a hospital right now."
"Come on, it's not that bad."
"Are you kidding me?"
While we were talking Manager Park arrived, and right behind him the medical staff. An ambulance rolled onto the field, loaded up a still-protesting Ko Mandeok, and drove straight out of the stadium.
Back on the mound Manager Park was saying something next to me, but none of it registered.
If I hadn't toyed with the earlier hitters, would Choe Hojung have pulled that stunt?
The thought that Ko Mandeok had taken that shot because of me wouldn't leave my head.
Choe was still arguing with the umpire—predictable. Claiming it wasn't intentional, of course.
"You gonna hit him?"
That was the first thing Kim Do-gyeong said after he took Ko Mandeok's spot.
"Obviously. Where do you want it? Same place—head?"
"......No."
Kim Do-gyeong was grinding his teeth in pure rage and still trying to stop me.
"We're just supposed to let this slide?"
"You started it first."
"A brushback and a bat to the skull are the same thing?"
"I'm saying this for your own good. You throw a revenge pitch here and what do you think people are gonna say?"
"I don't give a—"
"Manager's orders. Just pitch. Shut him down clean and get out of the inning."
"......"
I knew exactly what Kim Do-gyeong meant. Yesterday's article about Manager Ko already had me in a bad spot, and I'd already plunked a hitter earlier. That one had swung at a pitch he could have easily dodged and ended up striking out, so if things stopped here it might blow over.
But if I hit another guy right now... the whole thing would catch fire and burn out of control.
"Haa... fine."
"Good. Cool your head a little, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Kim Do-gyeong climbed back down. Choe took a light warning from the umpire and stepped back into the box.
And that bastard... there was the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was just my imagination, but from the mound that was exactly what it looked like.
"Haa... son of a bitch..."
Kim Do-gyeong wanted a changeup. Choe watched the pitch sail through the zone without so much as a twitch.
Looks like the guy's so scared of getting hit he isn't even planning to swing...
0-2.
This was where it started. Sorry, Kim Do-gyeong, but I had zero intention of letting this go.
A little extra heat from the crowd? I didn't give a damn.
"Third pitch. High. One ball, two strikes. A 154 km/h fastball sails high."
"Kang Hajin just set a new personal velocity record."
"Ah, so he did. Career-high velocity, but it came in too high and it's a ball."
"Looking at it, he might be overthrowing and losing command."
"Windup... and the pitch. Ball. Another 154 km/h heater, but this one dives too low. Choe Hojung just watches it. Count is 2-2."
"Same thing again, right? Command is slipping. With Ko Mandeok leaving with an injury, Hajin looks a little fired up."
"Catcher Kim Do-gyeong is tilting his head a bit—maybe the signs aren't lining up?"
"Hard to say. Kang Hajin's command has been so sharp until now. Sudden wildness could easily rattle a catcher."
"Yes... the catcher is being careful with the signs. Fifth pitch! Ah—dropped way too early. Ball. Full count!"
"He was trying to get Choe to chase, but it fell out of the zone too soon. Kang Hajin is shaking..."
"No one on base, but if Choe reaches, the next hitter is Rodriguez—and that guy has power."
"Kang Hajin is shaking his head. Looks like he and the catcher aren't on the same page... ah, he steps off. Kim Do-gyeong is coming out to the mound. Wonder what they're talking about."
"In this situation it won't be anything major. Just trying to settle a fired-up young pitcher. Kang Hajin is still a kid, after all."
"Right. Uh... catcher heads back, Kang Hajin resets. No sign—he goes straight into the windup... ah!"
"He got him! Ah..."
"Dragons players are pouring out. Savers too... bench-clearing..."
Kim Do-gyeong already knew exactly what I was thinking.
The second he reached the mound he tried one more time to talk me down, then finally gave up and went back to his spot.
He could have kept fighting me longer. The fact that he folded that easily made me think he wanted it a little himself.
I spun the ball inside the glove until my fingers locked perfectly on the seams. From here on this pitch was leaving my hand early—overthrown and wild.
Do hitters really know the difference between a pitch thrown to hit them and one that just got away? Whether they do or don't is none of my business.
The moment the ball left my fingers I knew. I'd gotten the perfect scrape on it.
It flew exactly where I wanted it, fast. Choe Hojung spun in panic, but the ball arrived first.
Thud!
"Gyaaah!!"
Somewhere between the ribs and the back, from the sound of it.
Now I had to get ready for what came next. Obviously that meant the Dragons players charging out. Leading the pack, sprinting straight at me, was Kim Gyuyeol.
I stood calmly on the mound in a ready stance. Kim Gyuyeol came flying in and threw a punch without even slowing down.
I'd always wondered, watching bench-clearings on TV, why pitchers throw their gloves away before they meet the hitter.
I know the unwritten rule is no bats and no balls. But why ditch the glove?
Most people throw a punch with their dominant hand. I'm right-handed, so my right hand comes out first without thinking.
But a baseball player wears the glove on the other hand. Unless you're planning to windmill both arms, there's no reason to throw the glove off.
And these same guys catch hundred-plus-kilometer pitches with that glove every day. Some random ballplayer who isn't even a boxer throwing a fist? No way that glove can't catch it.
Just like right now.
I slipped my head back a fraction and snagged Kim Gyuyeol's punch the same way I'd glove a fastball. The second his fist locked inside the leather his eyes went dinner-plate wide.
I dropped the glove—and his arm came down with it. That left his jaw wide open and gleaming.
Crack!
The sound was almost cheerful. Something about it felt like it should have broken, but my fist felt fine, so it must have just been a good noise.
Either way, Kim Gyuyeol hit the dirt.
And every Dragons player who had been charging me like madmen froze in place.
In that heartbeat Seo Gyeongmin and the rest of our guys stepped in front of me. Rick Sanchez in particular had that massive left hand stretched out like a wall while his right fist was cocked and loaded, ready to launch anyone who came closer.
"Nobody else coming?"
I'd always wanted to try this once. Head tilted, deadpan, fingers curling in a little come-hither gesture. Come on.
A few of them flared up and started yelling, ready to charge again—
—until Lee Gi-ho stepped in and stopped them. Hwang Jongdu joined him.
Hwang was a kid with no real pull, but Lee Gi-ho was different. Among the Dragons' everyday hitters he was the longest-tenured veteran after Choe Hojung himself.
There were older guys on the roster, sure, but none of them were regulars. Without Choe around, Lee Gi-ho's word carried weight.
And as the everyday catcher he spent a lot of time with the pitchers, so once he spoke the mound staff quieted down too.
In the end nothing more happened. Both teams filed back into their dugouts.
And of course I got ejected.