The Error
"Ah, this is driving me insane."
In the top of the fourth we managed to scratch out the first run of the game on Shane's solo homer. It was only one run and plenty of innings remained, but the dugout was already buzzing with the feeling that we could actually beat Kwon Jong-jin. Every team had trouble with him, but ours had it worse than most.
Riding that good vibe I took the mound for the bottom of the fourth… and two pitches later Jo Sangwon took me deep for a solo shot of his own.
It wasn't a mistake pitch. Ko Mandeok called it, I threw it exactly where I wanted it—a 93-mph two-seamer in on the hands—and Jo Sangwon simply squared it up.
"Man… this park is ridiculously small."
In our home stadium that ball never would have left the yard. It barely cleared the fence, which only made it sting more. Still, what's done is done. We weren't even behind yet, so I had to flush it fast.
No more damage after that. I gave up another hit in the fifth but induced a double play to erase it. In the sixth a pitch got away from me for a hit-by-pitch, but I kept anyone else from reaching base.
The real problem was pitch count. Through six I'd already thrown ninety-one. Judging by previous outings, that was the end of my night. Sure enough, I could see arms warming in the bullpen.
Kwon Jong-jin, meanwhile, had thrown only seventy-six through six. Knowing his usual workload, he was on a complete-game pace—he'd gone as high as a hundred twenty before.
It was a shame. Win or lose, I wanted one more crack at him all the way to the end.
The pitching coach started toward me. I already knew what he was going to say, so I beat him to it.
"I want to keep going."
He stared at me for a long second, then glanced back and forth between Manager Park and me.
"I still feel strong. And if it starts to get heavy I've got the knuckleball…"
"Even if the knuckleball's easier on the arm, it's not a magic fix."
"I know. But I haven't even hit a hundred yet…"
I kept pushing until he raised a hand and cut me off. A sigh slipped out of me—looked like that was that. But instead of shutting me down, the pitching coach left me standing there and went back to Manager Park. The two of them talked for a moment.
"If you put a man on, you're done?"
"Yes, sir!"
I'd bought myself another inning.
I filled Ko Mandeok in the second he came back from a weak fly to short.
"Got it… Okay. I'll keep that in mind when I call the game."
So I took the mound for the bottom of the seventh determined to become a full-time knuckleballer.
Looking strikeout! Kang Hajin freezes him with a 92-mph four-seamer.
Four straight knuckleballs, then a four-seamer that tunnels right in on the hands. That must have looked a lot faster to the hitter.
While the first batter was still reeling from the parade of knuckleballs, I snuck the four-seamer past him for the punch-out.
Turning the pitch I'd always used as a surprise into my primary weapon. Just throw it and pray it finds the zone. Weirdly enough, it was fun.
Another knuckleball. After Jo In-beom, he's feeding Gwak Inheon nothing but knucklers too.
Eight pitches this inning and seven of them knuckleballs. He's clearly going all-in on it.
Why the sudden change this inning?
Pitch count, no doubt. Ninety-one through six—I fully expected him to be lifted. Looks like they're using the low-stress knuckleball to stretch Kang Hajin's outing.
Swing and a miss! The batter goes down empty.
Retiring the four- and five-hole hitters back-to-back gave me real confidence. I'd never thrown this many knuckleballs in a real game before, so a little doubt had been lingering. Once I put away the heart of the order, that doubt evaporated.
And then…
"Damn it…"
The second it left my hand I knew I'd screwed up. What do you call a knuckleball that spins? A slow, fat meatball.
Crack!
And of course it floated right down the middle…
The hitter must have thought Christmas had come early. He unloaded with everything he had.
"Waaaaah— ah… ah… ah…"
I stood there staring blankly at the sky, certain it was gone, when the crowd noise suddenly turned weird.
"Wooooooah!!!"
A roar exploded from the visiting section.
"What? What happened?"
I finally spun around and saw Shane scrambling back to his feet. In his massive glove sat a white baseball.
"He—he caught it? It didn't go out?"
"It was about to clear the wall by an inch and that maniac just robbed it. Heh heh heh."
"You're kidding me. That stayed in?"
"He was choking up on the bat. Looked like he was sitting knuckleball the whole time—lucky for us. Heh."
"Holy… shit. Unbelievable Shane."
Goosebumps covering both arms, I stayed on the field instead of heading to the dugout and waited for him. Shane jogged over with a huge grin and softly tossed me the ball he'd been clutching.
"Shane, thank you~"
He snapped a crisp salute to his brow and breezed right past me.
Okay, that was actually pretty cool.
Shane Williams's spectacular catch pulls the Savers out of danger. And now the top of the eighth—the Savers have a chance of their own. Runner on first. Ninth hitter Na Seungwon singles his way on, and leadoff man Jo Changjun steps in.
Na Seungwon did a beautiful job of going the other way. That was a nasty slider diving off the table and he stayed with it all the way for solid contact.
Looks like a bunt sign. Yes—Jo Changjun lays down a clean sacrifice toward first. One out, runner moves to second.
Here comes a pinch-hitter. Is that Jeong Jong-seong?
In what might have been the most critical moment of the entire game, Manager Park's choice was the rookie Jeong Jong-seong.
As the backup catcher he'd started two games and come in late for defense a few times. He'd also taken the occasional pinch-hit at-bat like this one…
Unlike spring training, once the regular season started he'd been struggling at the plate. According to the captain the problem was too much eagerness—and a complete lack of luck. I couldn't speak to the eagerness, but the luck part was obvious even to me. Every hard-hit ball found a glove.
So here was Jeong Jong-seong, stuck in a non-slump slump, getting the call in the biggest spot of the night.
"Please just get one hit…"
Ko Mandeok clasped his hands together like he was praying.
"If he gets a single I'll tell them I want to catch with you next start."
"What the hell, man?"
"That's how badly I want it. Heh."
Jeong Jong-seong fouled off the first pitch, took a curve for a ball, then swung at what looked like a cutter on the third.
Tick.
The cutter boring in on his hands just missed the sweet spot and the ball rolled weakly toward the shortstop. At least the runner on second got a good jump, turning it into a productive out.
"Ah!!!"
But then—
"Go! Go!"
As the runner reached third, the ball that the shortstop had casually tried to glove simply skidded right underneath and kept rolling into the outfield. The ball hadn't been hit hard to begin with, so it ended up in that awkward no-man's-land between the left fielder, the center fielder, and the shortstop who'd just booted it. In the meantime Na Seungwon rounded third and sprinted home like a madman.
"Safe!"
By the time the left fielder finally picked it up, Na Seungwon's foot had already crossed the plate.
"Yes!!!!"
An error nobody saw coming. A routine grounder, and the best defensive shortstop in the country had just kicked it.
I could see Kwon Jong-jin staring blankly at the sky with a hollow expression. Even a veteran like him couldn't keep his composure after something like that.
And that rattled mind…
CRAAAAACK!!
"Wooooooah!!"
…allowed the next batter, Shane, to launch a ball that left the entire stadium.
Ah… Kwon Jong-jin. That's all for him. This is how the game turns.
He really pitched well. Shortstop Kim Minseok got far too casual on an easy grounder. You've got to bear down on every single ball.
The error right after Shane Williams's gem. You can see the disappointment all over Kwon Jong-jin's face.
The Savers made the play that prevented a run; the Raiders made the play that gave one away. That's where today's game was decided.
The second the score opened up, the pitching coach ordered me to ice. With Kwon Jong-jin already out of the game I had no reason to be greedy anymore.
For the first time since turning pro I'd thrown more than a hundred pitches and recorded a quality start plus. Best of all, I'd secured the win against Kwon Jong-jin himself. I handed the ball over completely satisfied.
After I left, Jo Sangjun handled the eighth and Kang Chanjung closed out the ninth without a hitch.
When I came back from icing, the opposing hitters looked completely deflated—half-hearted swings, half-hearted baserunning. Our two relievers didn't let a single one of them reach base.
Three starts, three wins, zero losses, 0.95 ERA.
A successful start to the season.