Bats Keep Piling Up
Runner on second, nobody out.
Whether I was exhausted or not, this was clearly a golden chance for our team to take the lead. Looking at both starting pitchers today, a big inning seemed unlikely — which only made that first run all the more critical.
Manager Park must have thought the same, because the bunt sign came out. Ko Mandeok stepped into the box already squared around, announcing his intention to sacrifice me over to third.
The first baseman and third baseman crept in. Jon Reiner began his delivery — and the bat that had been laid flat across Ko Mandeok's body suddenly came upright.
A fastball, high and inside. Mandeok's raised bat somehow managed to get a piece of it.
Crack.
He chopped down on the ball like he was driving a stake into the ground. The ball took a massive hop and bounced toward first base.
"Just a little more!"
It caromed high off the dirt in front of home plate, hanging in the air for an eternity before it would inevitably settle into the first baseman's glove. The only question was which would come first — the ball into the glove, or Mandeok's foot on the bag.
I coasted into third and watched it unfold.
"Safe! Be safe!"
It was nearly simultaneous. Mandeok had sprinted like a madman, but his naturally slow legs made the call a tough one.
"Out!"
After a moment's hesitation, the umpire punched him out. Manager Park came flying out of the dugout demanding a video review.
Finally — a chance to rest.
"Aigoo…"
I dropped my rear straight onto the base and sat down hard. Instantly, I felt human again.
"Pfft. What are you doing?"
The third-base coach asked, laughing in disbelief.
"Huh? Why?"
"I've never seen a guy just sprawl out on the bag like that. Hah."
It was hot, I was wiped — what did he want from me? Sweat was pouring down under my helmet. I glanced over and caught the opposing third baseman and the umpire snickering too.
What? Never seen someone sit on a base before?
The game wasn't even in play. Was taking a breather such a crime? Tch.
It must have been a genuinely close play, because the review dragged on longer than expected. At last the home-plate umpire received the result, pointed toward first, and gave the out signal.
"Ah… so close."
The brief chaos on the field settled just as quickly. I had to get up off the base I'd been parked on.
One out, runner on third. The short rest had done wonders for my condition, and I was fully locked in, ready to come home.
"Stri~ke! Batter out!"
Na Seung-won went down swinging on three pitches.
"…"
Two outs, runner on third. Leadoff hitter Jo Chang-jun stepped in.
"Stri~ke!"
"Foul."
Two strikes in a blink. Jon Reiner had made up his mind — he was just burying 150-plus-kilometer heat with no finesse at all. You could see Chang-jun's bat getting blown back.
"Please, just one…"
I wanted him to connect with just one pitch using that bat of mine, the one I'd poured everything into. We'd come this far — I wanted to plant my foot on home plate.
Reiner's third pitch.
Crack.
The ball caught the end of Chang-jun's bat and dribbled toward third. But something about this ball was strange. It barely rolled at all.
The third baseman and I took off at the same time — me for home, him for the slowly trickling ball.
Shhhk.
I slid across home plate. Then first base—
"Safe! Safe!"
Jo Chang-jun, our team's best pure speed, had already touched first and blown past it before the late pop of the ball into the glove finally arrived.
"Wooooooo!! Jo Chang-jun! Jo Chang-jun! Jo Chang-jun!"
My dubious double, Mandeok's productive out, and Chang-jun's infield single — our team had taken the lead.
Was it because our team had drawn first blood? Or because that first run had come off my own two legs?
Whatever the reason, climbing back onto the mound after the inning felt fantastic. My body felt so light I almost wondered when I'd ever thought I was tired.
On the way out of the dugout, I'd told Ko Mandeok I was going to throw harder. He must have taken that to mean I'd be leaning on the fastball, because he put down the four-seam sign right away.
And I threw it hard — just like I used to as a closer last year.
Mandeok caught the ball, then spread both hands and slowly lowered them. Don't push it, he was saying. But I saw things differently.
Before the game, Manager Park had told me he'd only ask for about six innings. Situations could change, but that was the plan for now. It was my first time working both sides of the ball, and he was clearly trying to ease me into it.
So call it six innings. Top of the fourth now — three more to go. Pitch count was comfortable, my shoulder felt fresh despite that rough stretch earlier.
So why bother with pace management?
Wouldn't it be smarter to throw at full power, put hitters away faster, save pitches, and cut down the time spent on defense?
That was my thinking.
Mandeok put down the next sign. The slider darted away from the bat. Then the next pitch—
"Stri~ke! Out!"
Another high four-seamer. The batter watched it go by and trudged back to the dugout.
Perfect. Three pitches, one out. Full power was absolutely worth it.
Crack.
He yanked a four-seamer that bored in on his hands — line drive right at the first baseman. Two outs.
Crack.
A high fly ball. The center fielder charged in and snagged it. Three outs.
Six pitches. Inning over.
Bottom of the fourth, two outs.
In the batter's box: number-five hitter Kim Tae-seong, holding the very bat of his that I'd used in my previous at-bat.
"I'm taking this one."
"Huh?"
"You hit with it, right? It's mine now. Heh heh."
"…Excuse me?"
I thought he was joking, but Kim Tae-seong genuinely walked off with the bat he'd lent me.
The count sat at two-and-two. That moment when both pitcher and hitter know the at-bat is about to be decided.
The ball left Jon Reiner's hand — and Kim Tae-seong's bat came around in a massive swing.
CRACK!!
"Huh?"
The ball Tae-seong hit climbed impossibly high and kept flying. The center fielder started backing up, tracking it.
A little more… a little more… a little more…
He kept retreating, and somehow the ball still refused to come down. He kept going until his back hit the fence.
Thud.
"Wooooooo~!"
Kim Tae-seong had launched it dead center, over the wall. Score: 2–0.
He flung the bat behind him with a flourish and started his leisurely trot around the bases. But for some reason, the guys in the dugout weren't even looking at him — they were all staring straight at me.
"Wh-what? Why?"
"Huh… well, I'll be."
"What's going on?"
"There's gotta be something going on with that bat, right?"
Just then, Shane — who'd been talking something over with the interpreter — suddenly thrust a bat in front of my face.
"$%#$^#$@$%@^#%$#."
"He wants you to hit with this one next time. Says his hasn't been connecting lately."
"What?"
"He wants you to use his bat this time."
"…"
Shane had fired the opening shot.
Kim Tae-seong finished rounding the bases, got thoroughly pounded by the welcoming committee in the dugout, then came over to me.
"Hahaha. From now on, you use my bat. I'll supply all of them. OK?"
"…"
He looked ready to hand over his entire collection.
"Shane already gave me his."
"What? No way! That's not happening!"
What's not happening?
Tae-seong stormed off toward Shane — and right then, another bat appeared in front of me.
"Uh, this one…"
Choi Min-gi this time.
.
.
.
A short while later, I was the proud owner of five bats.
I finished the sixth with a 2–0 lead and called it a day. In the seventh, my successor Oh Gyu-shin surrendered a solo homer that gave everyone a brief scare, but he allowed nothing further. Jo Sangjun and Kang Chanjung locked down the eighth and ninth with clinical precision, protecting my win.
Today's MVP was, naturally, me.
Waiting at the interview station was a familiar face I hadn't seen in a while — Han Song-yi.
I wrapped up my thoughts on the game, and just as the interview was winding down, I felt something massive approaching from behind.
"Wha—!!!"
I spun around to find Shane grinning ear to ear, white teeth flashing, something in his hands. A white board piled high with something equally white — foam, cream, whatever it was, I recognized it instantly. Too late.
SPLAT.
Shane hurled the thing into my face with zero mercy. He actually threw it. Then he mashed it in for good measure. His raw strength sent me staggering backward — and then I felt something against my back that absolutely should not have been there.
"Oh my!"
Ah… this was still being broadcast live, wasn't it.