I'm Going to Korea
"Yaaaaawn."
Boring.
While everyone else was hard at work training before the game, I sat alone in a shaded corner of the dugout, yawning like this.
The only reason I had this much free time was thanks to Grandpa Manager.
Ever since our team locked up the division championship, the manager had restricted me to the absolute bare minimum of training.
How minimal, you ask? Light jogging and stretching, followed by a short stint of batting practice.
He wouldn't even let me touch a baseball.
I'd tried to do a little light catch once, only to get an earful of scolding.
When it's time to rest, you rest no matter what. What do you think you're doing? Are you ignoring what I'm saying right now...?
"It's just light catch..."
I muttered that once and only earned myself even more nagging...
Which left me in this completely free state.
If he was going to make me rest this much, I'd rather just take a full break.
But that wasn't allowed either.
I still had to appear in games as a hitter, after all.
Not as a full starter, of course.
I wasn't in the starting lineup today either. My role was to wait on standby as a potential pinch hitter later in the game.
"This is so damn boring."
"I told you to go hang out in the locker room. Why are you sulking out here?"
"It's stuffy in there. The weather's nice and cool—it's better out here."
The weather had fully cleared up into something perfectly pleasant.
Perfect weather for a nap.
"But aren't you going to lose your feel resting like this?"
"Not a chance. You think I'd lose my feel just because I'm not throwing? The manager knows that, which is why he's telling me to rest."
"How does the manager know?"
"If he didn't, would he have only put me in for a single game during spring training?"
"Ah~ that makes sense."
"And once this series is over, I have to head straight to the Asian Games."
"Right."
"So rest while I can. I have to push myself harder than the other players, after all."
"Hmm... will it really be that hard? You're not throwing that many games, right? Doesn't seem like it'd be too tough."
"······ You're flying. It's a foreign country. That stuff is hard."
Honestly, even I didn't think the games themselves would be all that difficult.
I had the Booster ready if things got dicey.
The Yankees finished their losing series against us, then dropped two more in their next three-game set.
That defeat handed Tampa Bay one last chance, and Tampa Bay seized it properly.
Houston also saw their pitching staff suddenly falter, their momentum breaking, and the wild card race stayed complicated right to the end.
Texas surged up in the meantime, firmly locking down the top wild card spot.
At this point, as long as Texas didn't completely collapse as a team, they could just sit back munching popcorn and watch the teams below them tear each other apart.
Then, as the end of September approached one day.
Finally the two teams entered their last three-game series of the season.
What made the first game of the series even more exciting was the starting pitchers for both sides.
Both pitchers had some history with us.
The aces of their respective teams.
But both had gotten thoroughly wrecked when they faced our team. Now they were facing each other.
"Both of them have tempers that aren't exactly mild... This is really going to be something to watch. Heh heh."
One was a beanball specialist, the other was a guy who burned like dry kindling.
If either one of them lost it, there was no telling what might happen.
Homin rustled around and brought over some popcorn from somewhere, and we started watching the game while chewing on it together.
The early going looked a bit better for Craig Gibson.
More stable, you could say?
Rather than going for strikeouts, he induced weak contact by drawing swings, shutting them down for three innings.
Daniel Cruz, on the other hand, pitched to overpower the hitters.
Aggressive attacks on the zone, hunting for strikeouts.
When the third inning ended, the score was 0-1.
The Tampa Bay lineup had drawn first blood against Daniel Cruz.
At that point, it seemed like Tampa Bay might actually pull something off.
They'd been chasing like mad without giving up right to the end of the season, so an upset felt possible.
But...
"Whoa... I never thought this game would end like this."
"No wonder they're the Yankees. The team has real grit."
"Craig Gibson's stuff was good today. How does he just fall apart like that in an instant?"
The game that had been 0-2 blew open in the sixth when the Yankees scored six runs, crushing Gibson and eventually taking the win.
The Yankees hitters had looked a little tired late in the season, their condition slightly off.
But when things got truly dangerous, they must have dug up some hidden reserves, because they poured out three home runs in the sixth alone and flipped the game in an instant.
And the next day. And the day after that. The Yankees hitters' pace showed no signs of slowing.
Tampa Bay had twisted themselves into knots trying to create variables late in the season, but they got swept by the Yankees and that was the end of it.
Wild Card Series
Cleveland Guardians vs Houston Astros
Texas Rangers vs New York Yankees
"Hello everyone~ Today we'll be broadcasting the Texas vs Yankees game together with Seo Homin, who serves as my husband's personal power analyst and interpreter."
The Wild Card Series started right after the season ended.
Our team got a few days of rest, so I slept in late at home and got up leisurely.
Right now in the living room, just me alone.
Han Song-yi, who should have been next to me, was in the broadcasting room over in the corner.
When Song-yi said she'd broadcast this game, I just thought, sure, whatever.
Even back in Korea, Song-yi had experience broadcasting event-type games.
Not full games, just an inning or two as an event.
But each time, her broadcasts packed with rich baseball knowledge got pretty good reviews, so when she said she'd do a personal broadcast, I cheered her on to do well.
But I never expected her to suddenly bring Homin in as the color commentator.
"That guy doing commentary? I'll be lucky if he doesn't just spout nonsense..."
I acknowledge his baseball knowledge. Honestly, it's pretty excellent.
But whether he can deliver that knowledge on air without all the accompanying nonsense is a whole different issue.
Even if it's just a personal broadcast.
"Unfortunately, it looks like my husband won't be able to join us. The team didn't give permission, apparently."
That wasn't true. I just refused.
Honestly, I said no because it was a hassle, and Song-yi accepted it without fuss.
Sitting up there broadcasting means talking nonstop for three hours.
You have to care about your appearance too.
Having refused the broadcast, I was now sprawled in front of the TV without even washing up, wearing the pajamas I lounged around the house in.
It couldn't be more comfortable.
Lying on the sofa with the TV in front of me, and on the table right in front a tablet streaming Song-yi's broadcast, I was all set to watch the game.
The winner of this series would be our opponent in the Division Series.
Whichever team advanced, it didn't really matter much.
Texas had the good memory of me throwing a perfect game against them.
But personally, I was hoping the Yankees would advance.
Not because Texas was suddenly intimidating or anything.
Because the Yankees had a pitcher I loved.
The grateful pitcher who told me every pitch type and location.
But predictions had the Yankees as slight underdogs in this series.
Texas was sending out their ace, while the Yankees were putting up their #1 starter—but one who'd been a bit shaky this season. That was the reason.
Gude Macstein, the Yankees' #1 starter who'd racked up 12 wins but shown a lot of unstable performances.
But this experienced pitcher in big games kept the powerful Texas lineup scoreless through five innings.
"Wooooah! Didn't I tell you? I said this guy completely transforms in important games!!!"
Homin's voice blasting from the tablet was drowning out every other sound.
He was screaming at the top of his lungs, totally worked up...
"Is this speaker about to blow? Has he lost it..."
A glance at the chat showed endless comments asking why he was overdoing it so much, but he didn't seem to be looking.
Song-yi had apparently given up too, just smiling.
"...Should I drag him out?"
He was diligently stacking up his own unlikability points.
The game eventually went to the Yankees.
A nail-biting 2-1 win.
Gude Macstein's seven scoreless innings were decisive.
The Yankees also won Game 2 of the Wild Card Series.
And so our Division Series opponent was set as the Yankees.
On the other side, Houston took two straight from Cleveland and would face the Angels.
Meanwhile.
"I'm going to Korea."
"Huh?"
The day after Wild Card Series Game 2 ended.
Homin suddenly declared he was heading to Korea.
"Why?"
"They want me to come do commentary."
"······ What?"
"Guest commentary."
"······ Why?"
"Dunno. Maybe because I'm close with you? Anyway, so I'm going."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"······"
Is Korea that short on commentators?