How Big Is the Age Gap, Anyway?

"He's on fire today..."

Someone muttered the words nearby, and they drifted over to me.

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Jo Changjun—the man I had crowned the best second baseman in the country for this one day alone—was hitting .265 so far this season. He had locked down the leadoff spot from Opening Day and never let it go, but the numbers were still a little disappointing. The team kept giving him that leadoff chance because of his speed, his solid contact, and the plate discipline everyone respected. This year, though, those strengths still hadn't fully shown up. The fact that his only extra-base hit so far was a single double was especially frustrating, given those wheels of his.

That was the Jo Changjun we knew... until today.

Was this finally his day? He had already put on a clinic with the glove in the top of the first, and then he stepped in as the leadoff hitter in the bottom half and ripped a ball that cleared the right fielder's head. He never even glanced back—just put his head down and flew all the way to third, sliding in with room to spare.

The crowd went absolutely nuts. The same guy who had just snuffed out a crisis with spectacular defense had now ripped a triple—harder to hit than a home run—in his first at-bat. The cheers hadn't even died down yet when shortstop Choi Min-gi stepped in and laid down a perfect squeeze bunt toward third on the very first pitch.

The ball rolled agonizingly slowly just inside the foul line. Catcher, pitcher, and third baseman all charged, but by the time they got there Jo Changjun had already crossed the plate. To make it even sweeter, Choi Min-gi beat the throw to first. Perfect execution. Instant run, and Choi Geun-ho stood on the mound looking completely deflated.

What the hell was that guy even thinking, taking the ball today?

People around me had been saying his start was a direct shot at me, and I couldn't completely disagree. There was no good reason for him to be out there. The whole thing had pissed me off at first—felt like he was targeting me on purpose—but later, when I actually thought about it, it just didn't make sense. What was he even trying to accomplish by starting? No matter how I looked at it, there was nothing he could do that would actually mess with me.

I even wondered if they had put him out there just so he could walk me intentionally out of spite, hoping I'd retaliate, spark a bench-clearing brawl, and maybe get myself tossed. But watching him pitch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the first inning, that didn't seem to be it either. The idiot had tried to challenge me with a two-seamer and got lit up. On the squeeze he was just trying to get ahead in the count and got completely caught off guard.

"I seriously don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"Just... feels like they're planning something."

"Ah."

"Be careful, hyung. You're the real problem here."

"Relax. Only one guy I have to watch, right? And come on—would they really try that again? Last year that exact stunt already blew up in their faces."

"You never know, though."

My stuff already felt off today, and now I had to waste mental energy on this nonsense. It just made me more irritated. Sure, rattling the opposing pitcher is part of the game, but why the hell did it always have to be me?

I kept grumbling while Ko Mandeok tried to talk me down.

"Doesn't that just mean they're that worried about you? You should be happy. Means you've arrived."

"...Or they just think I'm an easy mark."

"Bullshit. What team in this league looks at you and thinks 'easy'? I get why you're pissed, but that only hurts you. Whatever they try, just don't swing at it and you're fine."

"..."

While we were talking, Shane punched a productive grounder and Seo Gyeongmin ripped a single that scored Choi Min-gi from second. Just like that it was 2–0.

"See? Already 2–0. Whatever crap they pull, if we keep scoring and shut them down, it's over. They're the ones who end up looking like idiots."

"Yeah."

Out of nowhere Ko Mandeok ruffled my hair.

"When's our little Hajin finally gonna grow up... heh."

"Ah, come on, not again!"

"Moments like this... you still look like a kid."

How big of an age gap do we even have, anyway...

"Oh right! Just in case, let's switch the signs."

"Ah! Completely forgot. Probably nothing, but better safe than sorry."

When something feels off, you play it careful. Always.

I kept complaining to Ko Mandeok right up until the inning ended, then climbed back onto the mound. Even while I was bitching, his words had actually gotten through. Honestly, every other guy on the team knew exactly what was going on... and none of them looked rattled. Just me. Only me.

From the rubber I slowly scanned the field, starting at first. There was Jo Changjun—best second baseman in the country today—and next to him Choi Min-gi, the guy who'd just laid down that gorgeous squeeze, chatting with third baseman Kim Tae-seong. Finally my eyes landed on the scoreboard still showing 2–0.

Ko Mandeok had talked me down, the defense had been rock-solid from the first inning, and we already had the lead. The irritation started to fade. Thinking about it, I'd been wound tight for days just knowing the three drinking buddies were all showing up for my start. I should've just decided to ignore whatever cheap tricks they had planned and mow them all down. Instead I'd wasted energy trying to figure out their little scheme by myself.

"Haaah..."

Maybe Ko Mandeok wasn't completely wrong when he said I still acted like a kid.

Dolphins foreign hitter Simon Perza stepped into the box. What had Ho-min written about this guy on the scouting report again...

For a guy who came up from the minors he handles breaking balls surprisingly well, but he's weak against fastballs. Something about anything over a certain velocity...

Back then I'd said, "So I just throw max-effort four-seamers, right?" and Ho-min had called me simple. I couldn't remember the exact number. This stupid brain of mine... I'd listened to the whole explanation and even reviewed it again...

But my full-effort heater would definitely be enough. So for the first time in a while I shook off Ko Mandeok's sign and put one down myself. Four-seam.

He hesitated a second, then nodded and set the target.

"Can't just keep flashing the fastball for show forever. Whether it works or not, I gotta throw it."

I took a long stride and the arm came through from the back. The seams bit clean off my fingertips—felt really good.

"Stri~ke!"

Four-seam painted the outside corner on the lefty. I turned to the scoreboard and watched 155 flash bright.

"There it is."

My four-seamer was back.

"Good ball!"

Ko Mandeok's voice was pure excitement as he tossed it back.

"Whoa—nice! That thing is filthy!"

A voice from behind me—left side, so that had to be Jo Changjun.

With the four-seamer working, Ko Mandeok called for another one, almost the exact same spot. Challenge him if you dare. And I love that kind of pitch.

Again the seams bit perfectly off my fingers.

"Stri~ke!"

The batter watched two in a row. Then he turned and said something to the umpire before shaking his head in disbelief.

"Idiot. Ump's just calling what he hears. What's the point of asking?"

I smirked and waited for the next sign. Four-seam again—this time chest-high.

"Swing~ batter out!"

I kept glancing behind me today.

"156... damn..."

The batter who'd just swung through it looked stunned, so I turned around and saw that ridiculous number on the board.

"This is fun. Heh."

All the irritation I'd felt before the inning started was gone. Right now I just wanted to throw more. The four-seamer that had been garbage suddenly looked sharp—no, better than before—and I'd just set a new velocity record. The whole situation just felt fun.

Was the four-seamer sucking because of mental stuff?

Watching it suddenly start painting the zone after I changed my mindset made me wonder.

Next up was Kim Hyeong-gu, the five-hole hitter who'd been their cleanup guy until last year. Dolphins captain, and his swing was weirdly similar to our own captain Seo Gyeongmin. A guy who hit .300 with twenty bombs every year... yet right now he didn't look that tough.

Come to think of it, he was the first guy I ever used the splitter on last year.

I thought about throwing it again, but Ko Mandeok called for the four-seamer.

"Again?"

I hesitated after taking the sign, so he smacked his own chest a couple times with his bare hand.

"What, you want me to just trust you? Heh."

I nodded and set. The ball left my hand low and smacked into the waiting mitt.

"Ball."

"Huh?"

Looked good to me. A little low?

But Ko Mandeok put down the exact same sign again.

"Stri~ke!"

What?

Wasn't that the same spot as the last one?

Looked identical from my angle, but apparently not—this one was a strike. Then Ko Mandeok pulled off his mask and jogged out to the mound.

"Your mechanics are bouncing around."

"What?"

"When you throw the four-seamer your posture gets bigger."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Uh... I'll watch it. But those last two pitches—were they different?"

"A little?"

"...They were?"

"Your upper body keeps standing up and sitting down, so you probably can't even see it properly."

"Ah..."

"It's fine. The ball's good."

"Got it. I'll focus on the delivery."

Had I gotten a little too excited after the four-seamer started working and I hit that new velo?

Four-seam sign again—this time two balls off the outside edge. I concentrated from the windup, not some adrenaline-drunk max effort but a starter's careful distribution of power. The ball headed for Ko Mandeok's mitt, which was set a little low and outside. And then—wait.

The batter's bat started and stopped. Ko Mandeok's hand immediately pointed at the third-base umpire. The ump's clenched fist came down.

"Oh~ freebie. Heh."

Ko Mandeok gave a big nod as he threw the ball back. That one was good, then?

I caught it in a good mood, looked at the next sign, and couldn't help smiling.

"This hyung, I swear..."

On the next pitch Kim Hyeong-gu's bat sliced clean through empty air. He glared at me for a second, then sighed and headed back to the dugout.

Ko Mandeok had remembered too. The pitch that got the swing-and-miss was, of course, the splitter.

And the next batter was, in a way, the hottest hitter on our team right now—Yoon Hyo-jung. That guy... he'd been yapping at Ko Mandeok during spring training, and today was no different. The second he stepped in he started running his mouth at the catcher.

Ko Mandeok's response was perfect: total ignore. He didn't even glance in Yoon Hyo-jung's direction as he put down the sign.

"Figured he'd at least call for a brushback."

I'd expected something to knock Yoon Hyo-jung—crowding the plate—back a step, but Ko Mandeok's sign was just... ordinary?

First pitch: ordinary knuckleball.

Second pitch: another knuckleball.

Yoon Hyo-jung started chirping at Ko Mandeok again. Whatever.

Ko Mandeok yanked the ball out of his mitt and fired it back toward the mound without even looking, then turned and headed for the dugout.

Oh... that was actually pretty cool.