Busan Road Trip
This weekend's three-game series opponents, the Seongju Hawks, were a team that led with their formidable batting power.
Five of their nine starting batters were currently hitting over .300, and the other three hovered in the mid-to-high .200s. Only the shortstop's average dipped a little, but his defense was so sharp it wouldn't have been out of place to call him the best in the country.
That didn't mean their pitching staff was weak, either. The two foreign pitchers handling the first and second starter roles were performing exceptionally well, and their third starter—the homegrown Ace—was keeping pace right alongside them. The fourth and fifth starters were a little shaky, but that was true for most teams this year.
Even so, the reason they couldn't challenge for first place and were barely hanging on to second was their bullpen. The middle relief outside the Winning Setup Relief was an issue, sure, but the bigger problem was the Closer.
Jo Taeksu, who had already racked up twenty saves this year, was a pitcher with a fastball that topped 150 km/h and an impressively sharp-dropping forkball. He had good enough stuff, yet the blown saves that popped up every now and then had Hawks fans clutching the backs of their necks in frustration on a regular basis.
Jo Taeksu's biggest weakness was a mental game as soft as tofu. When he was on, his pitches knifed into the corners with real bite. The problem was that "when he was on" came with conditions…
First, the score had to be separated by two runs or more. In other words, he couldn't throw properly in those heart-pounding one-run games. But for a Closer who came out to finish the ninth, one-run games showed up all the time, and every time they did, Jo Taeksu would spray walks with absurd control and hand the game away.
You'd think they'd just change Closers, but… weirdly enough, as long as the lead was two runs or more, he became untouchable that day. So the Hawks had been stuck watching him, unable to do anything one way or the other, and now the season was almost over.
"That's why the Hawks are supposedly super jealous of us."
"Huh?"
"It's a waste, right? If they'd known about you earlier and brought you in, they could've put Jo Taeksu in only when the situation was good and used you as the Closer. Then they might've even contended for first."
We'd arrived at the stadium, and Choi Geunho, today's starter, was sitting with me waiting for the game to start. He spotted Jo Taeksu way off in the distance and started spinning the tale. I already knew a fair bit about Jo Taeksu, so I just nodded and listened quietly—until the story took a weird turn.
"…Ha… ha… R-really?"
"I'm telling you. I started my pro career with the Hawks, you know. So a lot of my classmates are still there. The seniors too—we all still keep in touch."
"Ah…"
"Last time I was on the phone, they said the manager was sighing about Jo Taeksu and brought you up."
"Oh…"
Choi Geunho was a year older than me. He'd started with the Hawks, but as far as I knew, he'd barely played a few games in the first team before getting traded to us the next year. That meant he'd spent most of his time with the Hawks in the Second Team / Futures League… so how exactly was he close with the first-team guys? I couldn't figure it out.
Not that I could pick apart every detail. And he was saying something that was basically a compliment to me… Normally Jo Sangjun, the team's most senior player, would be sitting next to me and I wouldn't have to listen to this kind of talk… but Jo Sangjun had a slight shoulder knot today and was taking the day off. So I was stuck with no choice but to sit there and take in every word Choi Geunho said.
This guy's the starter today—how long is he going to keep yapping?
I was thinking that to myself and nodding like a machine when he hit me with another awkward question.
"Who do you think's gonna win today?"
What was I supposed to say to that?
"Obviously our team, right?"
"Yeah? You got a feeling?"
"Huh? Ah… yeah…"
"Honestly their lineup's scary, but their starter today is absolute trash, so we can win, right?"
"Of course. Obviously."
Where exactly was he seeing "trash"… We had our fourth starter, they had their fifth, but honestly, how much difference was there between a fourth and fifth starter? And this year, that fifth starter of theirs actually had better numbers.
The Hawks' starter today, Seong Juyong, was a pitcher who reminded me of my old self. His velocity and breaking-ball quality weren't anything special, but he used solid control to catch hitters off guard and work the count. Thanks to that, even this late in the season, he'd been rolling out consistently as the fifth starter and posted an ERA in the low 4.00s—pretty solid for a fifth starter.
Compared to our fourth starter… my honest answer to Choi Geunho's question was that I probably wouldn't be taking the mound today. In other words, we were going to lose.
"Ugh… He blew it. Completely blew it."
Someone behind me clicked their tongue as they watched Choi Geunho hang his head and disappear behind the dugout after coming off the mound. I wanted to snap that the game wasn't even halfway over and what kind of jinx was that… but looking at the 8–1 score on the board, I couldn't really blame them.
Choi Geunho had given up eight runs in just 3.2 innings and left two runners on base as he trudged off the mound in disgrace. You could ask why they hadn't pulled him sooner, but… would Manager Park have ever imagined that from a 2–1 score in the third, he'd give up a two-run homer and then a grand slam?
The pitchers had scrambled to warm up after watching Choi Geunho suddenly unravel and start walking batters after the two-run shot, but by the time they were ready, everything that was going to get hit had already been hit.
"Is that guy seriously never going to the majors? Change the rules if you have to and ship him out already. Damn it."
A different voice from before. The hero of the grand slam was none other than Lee Gijun—the same Lee Gijun that Ho-min still couldn't say for sure I could handle with my pitches. The first-pitch two-seamer had looked a little off the plate, but he'd gone with it and driven it out just like that.
"Something about fairness this and that… Come on, if the players just say they don't care about that crap and to send him over, wouldn't that be enough? Damn it."
"From the Hawks' perspective, they can still use him for a few more years, so they don't want to let him go."
"Ugh, I really don't want to see that guy."
They were going crazy in the back. I glanced over—both were chase-group pitchers I still wasn't particularly close with. Normally both of them were pretty quiet guys. The fact that they were raising their voices so freely today made it clear Jo Sangjun had been the suppressor.
The new pitcher got the remaining out and finished the inning cleanly. And a little more time passed into the top of the sixth. Seong Juyong, who'd thrown eighty-four pitches through five innings, came out, and the Hawks' bullpen took over.
Top of the sixth for the Savers. The new pitcher is sidearmer Heo Jeongwoo, ready to face the hitters.
The Savers need to create something this inning. It starts with Rick Sanchez and runs through the three-four-five spots. If they don't close the gap here, the Hawks will bring in their prized Winning Setup Relief from the next inning on.
Rick Sanchez steps in. He's got one home run off Heo Jeongwoo this season.
That's right. His batting average against him is also a solid .300.
The problem is that Rick Sanchez always insists on a full swing. The Hawks battery isn't about to give a guy like that anything good to hit. With a comfortable lead, they're going to nibble and make him work for it.
And as we speak—Heo Jeongwoo winds and delivers.
CRACK!
He got it! Rick Sanchez's drive—it's big! Back! Back!
It's gone! Oh, that one actually went out!
Gone! Rick Sanchez takes Heo Jeongwoo deep over the left fielder for a home run.
If you look at the replay, that's Heo Jeongwoo's sinker. It dropped low and sharp—two pitches that both dove down. And Rick Sanchez just golfed it out of the park. What raw power.
That's right. Rick Sanchez roars as he crosses the plate. Score is now 8–2. The Savers chip one back.
The away-team cheering section lit up for a moment. The fans who'd been half-hearted after the home run cooled off again quickly because of the still-large score difference.
Heo Jeongwoo is tilting his head. Something like, "That went out?"
Wouldn't you? He threw a pitch designed not to be hit, and it still left the yard. He needs to forget it fast and lock back in.
That's right. The next hitter is Seo Gyeongmin, isn't he? Twenty-one home runs this year, and historically he's been strong against Heo Jeongwoo as well.
Seo Gyeongmin is especially tough on sidearmers and underhanders.
Savers fans are counting on Seo Gyeongmin here. Heo Jeongwoo finishes the sign exchange. Careful windup…
CRACK!!!
Wait—it's going! Going! Left field again—left field—it's gone!! Seo Gyeongmin's solo shot! 8–3!
Same pitch. Almost the exact same location, same pitch. Another low sinker. And just like Rick Sanchez before him, he golfed it out the same way.
When Rick Sanchez had gone deep earlier, I'd just shrugged it off. But watching Seo Gyeongmin's home run changed something. Or maybe it was more of a feeling that hit me.
The other guys still weren't reacting much—five-run deficit and all. But me? Why did I feel like this?
We're going to catch them…
For no good reason at all, a baseless confidence welled up that our team might actually flip this game.
"Senior, can you catch for me a bit?"
"Huh?"
"Wait—Hajin, what are you doing?"
I walked over to the bullpen catcher who'd been resting, and the other guys turned with puzzled looks.
"Just thought I'd loosen up a little."
"Why? You're not going in today, are you?"
"You never know."
The bullpen got noisy, and the bullpen coach, who'd been watching the field, came over.
"Hajin, you're warming up? Why already?"
"Just in case."
"Still… hmm… never mind. Fine. But take it slow. Don't ramp it up too fast."
"Of course. Just some light tosses."
"Alright."
The bullpen coach looked like he was about to say something else, then stopped and went back to his spot. He picked up the phone. Probably calling the manager to report that I'd started warming up.
That was when it happened.
CRAAACK!!
"WAAAAAAAH!!!!!!"
"UAAAAAAH!!!!!"
Yoon Hyojung launched another massive drive that cleared the fence. He tore around the bases, stomped on home plate, then turned toward the away-team cheering section with both arms raised and let out a full-throated roar.
The score was now 8–4.
The atmosphere in the stadium began to shift.