The Return
As usual, Park Donghoon was already at the office on Monday when he happened to hear something interesting from a team staffer.
"Hajin and Mandeok are out training?"
"Yes. I caught a glimpse as I was walking by. They were practicing with someone I didn't recognize."
"Is that so? Hmm…"
A warm smile spread across Manager Park's face, and the fatigue that had been piling up on him seemed to ease just a little.
The postseason had already slipped away, but the team was finishing the year with better results than anyone had expected at the start of the season—and that very success had been giving him a headache as he tried to close things out properly. That was why he was in again today, grinding through the problem, when this welcome bit of news found him.
"But it looked like they were throwing knuckleballs?"
"…What? Who? Hajin?"
"Yes. Mandeok was really struggling with them."
"Heh heh…"
A hollow laugh escaped him on its own.
Kang Hajin was a pitcher who simply did not fit inside Manager Park's understanding of the game.
When he had first heard about him from his close junior Taeseong, he had been skeptical. Taeseong would never lie—but how was anyone supposed to believe that someone had suddenly turned into a power pitcher overnight?
Even so, the reason Manager Park had wanted to trade for Kang Hajin was the fierce mental strength and high-level command he had observed over time. And once he actually brought him in, Hajin turned out to be an even better pitcher than expected. That was why, the moment he saw him, he had decided to install him as the new closer.
That alone had been surprising enough—but Hajin, as if he still had more to show, pulled off something absurd. He learned the splitter grip and immediately started throwing it at a high level.
Manager Park still remembered how stunned he had been. In front of the players he had pretended it was nothing, but turning away afterward, it had taken everything he had to calm his racing heart. He had wanted nothing more than to pull the kid into a hug and heap praise on him.
And now this kid was trying out yet another pitch. A knuckleball. As if a knuckleball was something you could just decide to throw.
It was a pitch that neither the thrower nor the catcher knew where it was going. And he was out there throwing it.
"Mandeok really struggled that much?"
There were only two reasons a catcher would struggle receiving a pitcher's knuckleball. Either the ball was coming in so wild it was impossible to catch, or it was tracing a path no one could possibly snag. Manager Park had a strong feeling it was the latter.
Back in his office, he sat in his chair and thought for a moment, then picked up his phone.
"Manager Yu."
The man who answered was the Second Team manager.
"Didn't Park Byeong-seok catch for a knuckleball pitcher back in college?"
There was a catcher named Park Byeong-seok down in the Second Team. A college graduate rookie, he had the unusual background of having been the dedicated catcher for his team's knuckleball pitcher in college—a catcher good enough behind the plate to handle knuckleballs. But his hitting had been so weak, and more than that his game-calling a bit lacking, that he had never set foot on a First Team field.
"No, I'm not calling him up to the First Team… Just have him come up for a day or so to help with practice."
When Manager Park hung up, a smile was back on his face.
"Hello, everyone!!"
Wednesday.
I greeted each of the players I hadn't seen in days in a loud, clear voice. It had only been a few days, but I poured every bit of my apology for not being with them into those greetings, and my teammates smiled and welcomed me back.
The original plan had been to come in yesterday and say hello, but Manager Park had ordered me to rest one more day, saying that showing up during a suspension would only invite bad talk.
After team practice, we moved to the pitching training ground. Manager Park was already there, along with pitching coach Choi Sang-yun, battery coach Myeong Do-yeong, and bullpen coach Oh Gang-hyeon.
The sudden full assembly of the coaching staff left not only me but the other players looking bewildered.
"Park Byeong-seok. Go get ready."
Only after hearing Manager Park's words did I notice there was a player I'd never seen before.
I knew of him, of course. I knew there was a catcher named Park Byeong-seok in the Second Team. As a pitcher, I'd memorized the names of the few catchers we had. But this was the first time meeting him in person.
"You know Byeong-seok can catch knuckleballs, right?"
Really? I hadn't known that.
"I heard you've been practicing knuckleballs. So I called him up. Throw a few."
The players who'd come into the training ground with me started murmuring. It made sense—if word ever got out that some pitcher had thrown a knuckleball during a game, the whole day would turn into chaos. That was how rare and fascinating a pitch the knuckleball was. So of course they were intrigued to hear I'd been throwing one.
"…I wasn't really practicing it. I just tried throwing it once."
Someone behind me muttered, "Didn't he say the same thing about the splitter?"
Had I? I might have said something similar.
With Park Byeong-seok settling into the catcher's spot, Ko Mandeok stepped aside. His eyes stayed locked on Park Byeong-seok. Even if he was a Second Team catcher, the fact that he could catch knuckleballs seemed to have caught his interest. Well—that day Ko Mandeok hadn't exactly managed to receive the knuckleball properly.
"I'm only going to watch a few. Hurry up and throw."
"Yes. It often doesn't catch right, so please keep that in mind."
"That's a given."
With the manager and entire coaching staff turned out, what choice did I have but to throw? They'd all gathered just to see this.
I pressed the ball into my palm and planted two fingers on it. Just like the other day, I threw lightly from the set position without a windup.
The moment my two fingers pushed the ball, I knew. This one was a bust.
"Tch."
A batting-practice ball that was neither one thing nor the other. The instant Park Byeong-seok caught it, he flung it aside. The gesture felt like a rejection of the pitch, and it stung.
Seeing the catcher ready again, I gripped the ball once more. A little more carefully this time, I threw.
"Damn…"
Two failures in a row. The ball spun beautifully as it flew—exactly what a knuckleball shouldn't do.
Was it because people were watching? I couldn't find that this is it feeling I'd had when throwing to Ko Mandeok.
"Hah… Going again."
"Throw easy. Easy."
They all crowd around and then tell me to throw easy. Give me a break.
Grumbling to myself, I picked up the ball and prepared to throw again when Park Byeong-seok, still seated, gave both of his own shoulders a couple of taps.
Relax, he was saying.
Did I tense up without realizing it? Because of the audience?
It was possible. I'd wanted to look good rather than fail like this, so I might have gotten tense without knowing it.
I took a couple of deep breaths and settled my mind. Then, focusing only on throwing as softly as possible toward Park Byeong-seok's wide-open mitt, I pushed with my two fingers.
Got it!
The ball flew with a strange sensation. It felt like it was floating, but different from a curveball. The fluttering pitch seemed to break slightly to the right, then dropped sharply right in front of the catcher.
The ball, tracing an absurd path, was somehow perfectly caught by Park Byeong-seok as he quickly shifted his mitt.
"Whoa…"
Ko Mandeok's voice came first. He wasn't marveling at my pitch. He was stunned by Park Byeong-seok's catch.
Honestly, I was surprised too. To shift the mitt at the last second and snag a ball that dropped so absurdly…
The coaches were talking among themselves. But Manager Park said nothing—just gestured for me to throw again.
Another well-thrown pitch. Once more, Park Byeong-seok received the wriggling ball without much difficulty. It was completely different from Ko Mandeok, who'd been lunging with his whole body and sticking out only his glove.
I threw a few more after that. Some went well; others became ridiculous messes. Park Byeong-seok caught every single one. There was one he didn't glove cleanly, but even that one glanced off the tip of the mitt and dropped right in front of him, so it wasn't a real problem.
"…For now, Kang Hajin."
"Yes."
"Seal it for this year."
"…Understood."
It was a little different from what I'd expected. I'd been thinking of maybe using it as a show pitch once or twice in a game.
"Ko Mandeok."
"Yes, sir."
"Think you can catch it?"
"…I'll practice."
"Good."
Park Byeong-seok hung his head, looking disappointed. He'd apparently been holding out some hope. If I was going to throw knuckleballs, the only one who could catch them would be him—so maybe he could step in as the dedicated catcher. That seemed to be what he'd been thinking.
I felt a little sorry for Park Byeong-seok, but there was no real need to go that far. There wasn't much of the season left, so there was no reason to force it into games. If we practiced diligently through the offseason until next year, the problem would solve itself. If even after all that Ko Mandeok still couldn't catch it, that would be another story… but for now, it wasn't.
Park Byeong-seok left the training ground with Manager Park, and Ko Mandeok took the mitt again for the rest of my session. I wrapped up training with a simple check of today's condition alongside Ko Mandeok.
Today's opponent, the DDC Stars, were currently in seventh place. Our team was eighth. The gap between us was a mere three games.
From sixth place on up, the gap was considerable. In other words, the highest ranking our team could realistically aim for this season was that seventh-place spot currently occupied by the DDC Stars.
After yesterday's 8–3 win, the players' morale was soaring. They were fired up about riding the momentum to a sweep and dragging DDC down—but once the game actually started, it stayed tight.
Our starter, Dennis Santos, went six innings allowing two runs. The opposing starter, Na Jeong-gi, also went six innings allowing two runs before leaving the mound. Both teams had chances for more runs, but today both sides' defensive focus was unreal. A ball that should have gotten cleanly through was snared by our shortstop Choi Min-gi in a full diving leap, while a ball headed for a home run was robbed by the opposing center fielder climbing the fence.
In the top of the seventh, with both teams turning to their bullpens, we brought in second-year underhand pitcher Oh Gyu-sin to target right-handed hitters. His velocity wasn't high, but he had a sharp sinker that painted the corners. Yu Jae-sin cleanly retired the two right-handers he was responsible for and handed the mound to lefty Kim Seok-hwan.
Kim Seok-hwan started a little shakily with consecutive balls, but fortunately induced a weak contact and closed out the inning.
In the bottom of the seventh the heart of the order came up with high hopes, but they managed only a single walk before the inning ended. In the top of the eighth, Jo Sangjun took the mound.
Since stepping down from the closer role, Jo Sangjun had looked noticeably more at ease, and perhaps because of that, even this late in the season his pitches still had life. Today, leading with his signature splitter, he cleanly retired the side in the top of the eighth with two strikeouts mixed in.
"Even if we don't score here, you're going up in the ninth."
"Yes. Understood."
The bullpen coach had signaled my appearance. Regardless of the game's outcome, I was going in. I'd already expected as much and had my body fully loosened up.
Still… I couldn't help hoping they'd put up a few runs here. But starting from the seventh batter in the bottom of the order was a bit of a letdown.
Right out of the gate, a second-pitch ball that didn't carry was caught by the left fielder for an out. Next up was the eighth batter, Ko Mandeok. Since returning from rest, his hitting had been coming around.
But he swung and missed twice in a row, falling into a two-strike hole. Seeing him backed into a corner, I threw another pitch to the catcher to finish my warm-up.
Crack!!
Just as I caught the ball I'd thrown and was about to throw again, a clear, splitting crack of contact rang out. And a white ball sailed high over my head.
"Wooooaaaaah!!!!!"
Out on the field, Ko Mandeok was rounding second with both fists clenched and raised high.