Snap the Losing Streak
After sweeping the Warriors, we headed to Suwon for our weekend three-game series against the Raiders.
The Raiders had been stuck in second behind us all year. With only a two-game gap, though, the standings could flip either way depending on how this weekend series went.
Just as I’d discussed with Manager Park, I started Friday’s game as the number-five designated hitter.
The opposing pitcher, however, was Kwon Jong-jin—widely called the best pitcher in the country. I got completely tangled up in his breaking balls and finished the night hitless for the first time.
Our starter Michael Len threw a solid seven innings and allowed only three runs, but the rest of the lineup was shut down cold by Kwon Jong-jin. Final score: 4–0.
On Saturday we put Marte on the mound and went hunting for a win. He lived up to the hype, holding them to a single hit through three innings… until the fourth inning blew up.
Ah~ Marte… it looks like there’s something wrong with his fingernail right now, doesn’t it?
Yes, it seems so. Ah… this doesn’t look good. Players are already hurrying to warm up in the bullpen.
Right at the start of the fourth he left the mound with a fingernail problem. No Geun-sik, who’d scrambled to get loose, took over, but his stuff clearly wasn’t sharp.
He’d opened the season as the fifth starter, never really found a rhythm, and had been moved to long relief—where he’d actually been pitching pretty well. Coming in ice-cold, though, was a different story. He got lit up for four straight hits the moment he stepped on the rubber, and the 1–0 lead flipped in a blink.
Our hitters clawed back to tie it somehow, but the bullpen eventually gave way. Final score: 7–4.
Two straight losses left the game gap at zero. We still clung to first place by the thinnest of winning-percentage margins.
Then came Sunday—the day I took the ball as starter.
There’s no such thing as a game you can afford to lose… but today I absolutely had to win.
It was the day that would decide whether we kept the first-place seat we’d held for over a month or watched it slip away.
Plenty of season left, sure—we could always claw it back—but I had zero interest in dropping out of first on one of my starts.
Which is why I’d spent a long stretch of the previous night pacing outside the team hotel, half-hoping the Hooded Woman would suddenly materialize in front of me.
I knew perfectly well that the next meeting was scheduled for the following Sunday, after that day’s game. Still, I waited. Even though it was only Saturday, a full week early.
I kept replaying how my body had felt after the last time I’d seen her—right before that shutout—and figured any straw was worth grabbing. All I got for the trouble was a late night.
There was definitely something about that intense floral scent she carried. If the Hooded Woman herself wasn’t showing, I’d even considered hunting down Han Song-yi, who wore a much weaker version of the same fragrance…
But Song-yi was down in the provinces covering another team’s series.
Strike two.
“Hyung, you don’t happen to have any rose-scented cologne or anything?”
“…What kind of nonsense is that?”
“Tsk. Of course you don’t.”
“Hey! I wear cologne too! Not rose, but—want some?”
“Ah, no. I’m good. Why do you even wear cologne, hyung?”
“…Bought a bottle a while back. Used it a couple times and then stopped.”
Didn’t take a genius. He’d bought it to impress whatever girl he’d been seeing at the time.
That frame, that face… and cologne.
Imagine walking up next to Ko Mandeok and catching a nice scent.
“Ugh, damn…”
“What? That was aimed at me just now, wasn’t it?”
“No? Definitely not.”
The guy might look like a brick wall, but his radar was sharp as hell.
The game began and the opposing starter climbed the mound first: Juan Antonio Sanchez, the Raiders’ third starter this year.
According to Ho-min, the velocity wasn’t anything special, but the pitching was “highly intelligent.”
What the hell did “intelligent pitching” even mean? I was curious, but I bit my tongue. Ask Ho-min one question and you’d get a dissertation.
He was 4–1 with a mid-two ERA, and his sinker was supposed to be filthy.
Didn’t matter much to me—I wasn’t swinging a bat today.
“Alright~ Today our Hajin’s gonna crush one with the bat too!”
Jo Chan-jung, leading off again, whirled his bat in big circles as he left the dugout.
Come to think of it, five guys in today’s lineup were carrying bats I’d used at least once.
Jo Chan-jung, Kim Tae-seong, Lee Won-jeong—plus Shane’s bat, the one I’d launched that three-run shot with, had gone back to its rightful owner. Choi Min-gi’s bat, the one I’d doubled with right after, had also returned home immediately.
On Friday I’d taken Na Seung-won’s bat to the plate… and for some reason it just wouldn’t cooperate, so I still hadn’t given it back.
Bats that had passed through the hands of the one-, two-, three-, five-, and six-hole hitters.
Superstition or not, I just wanted those guys to mash today.
Pregame ceremonies finished and Jo Chan-jung stepped in.
Crack.
“Ah…”
“Shit. They’re already playing out of their minds…”
“He actually caught that?”
Jo Chan-jung squared up the third pitch and pulled it hard—only for Raiders shortstop Kim Min-seok to launch himself and snag it.
Jo trudged back muttering; from the shape of his mouth it was a full-course meal of curses.
Crack.
“Whoa!! Ah…”
The second Jo sat down, number-two hitter Choi Min-gi jumped on the first pitch and yanked it.
The ball was screaming down the third-base line… until third baseman Lee Jun dove, knocked it down, and fired to first in one motion.
Out by a whisker.
“What the hell is wrong with those guys?”
“Ah, damn… nothing’s bouncing our way.”
We should have had at least first and third. Instead, two outs, nobody on, and Shane walked up. He flailed at a pair of sinkers and went down swinging.
Sanchez had retired the side on ten pitches.
“You know the plan, right? I’m mixing in a lot of knuckleballs today.”
“Yes.”
Today I needed the win and length.
The two-game skid had chewed through the bullpen. Yesterday Marte had come out early, and even No Geun-sik—who was supposed to eat innings—lasted only one. Everyone except Jo Sangjun and Kang Chanjung had been used.
If we’d gotten blown out we might have just folded early. Instead the lineup kept tying it up and fighting, which only burned more arms.
Winning would have made it fine. Losing made it a disaster.
So I had to go deep—seven innings minimum. Ideally I’d finish the whole thing myself. If not, the goal was to hand the ball straight to Jo Sangjun with no intermediate stops.
Another knuckleball. Jo Sang-won barely fouls off the pitch that darts away outside.
Lately Kang Hajin has been using the knuckleball as sparingly as possible. Today he’s going to it aggressively right from the start.
Why cut back on the usage?
The knuckleball is definitely a weapon, but command is always an issue and a mistake can be fatal. Kang has plenty of other pitches that can dominate hitters—so there was no real need to lean on it.
Yet today he’s already thrown three of them in the first inning. After the opening four-seamer it’s been three straight knuckleballs.
My guess is he’s using the low-stress knuckleball early so he can stretch out the outing. Early in the season he often turned to it late to push deeper into games. Same idea, just flipped to the front end.
Makes sense. Kang Hajin’s fifth pitch—looking strikeout! A 153 km/h fastball freezes him.
A 120 km/h knuckleball followed by 150-plus heat. From a hitter’s perspective that’s pure paralysis.
I punched out Jo Sang-won in five pitches, then got shortstop Kim Min-seok—the same guy who’d robbed Jo Chan-jung—to bounce out to first on the second pitch. Two down.
I threw a first-pitch four-seamer to number-three hitter Evan Kawit and gave up a single, but I got cleanup man Jo In-beom to lift a can of corn to short to end the inning.
Eleven pitches total. Six of them knuckleballs.
Top of the second. Leadoff man Seo Gyeongmin dropped a soft single into center for our first hit of the day.
Then number-five hitter Kim Tae-seong, swinging the bat that still carried my residual energy, rolled over a shortstop grounder into a double play.
Lee Won-jeong followed with our second hit, making the twin killing sting even more. Designated hitter Jeong Jong-seong flied out to left, and the inning died scoreless despite the two knocks.
Leading off for the Raiders is number-five hitter Gwak In-heon.
Oh—look at that. Gwak is choking up and standing way up in the box.
Any idea why?
Kang Hajin has been leaning hard on the knuckleball today. This looks like their answer—try to catch it before the big break happens… though I’m not sure it’s a great plan.
You don’t like the approach?
Not really. A knuckleball moves so erratically that seeing it earlier doesn’t help much. And Kang doesn’t only throw knuckleballs.
The analyst nailed it.
Another heater! Kang Hajin paints three straight four-seamers in the zone and freezes Gwak In-heon for a three-pitch strikeout!
That’s the pitch. Kang’s four-seamer climbs to 155 km/h and, from the hitter’s eye, looks like it’s rising. Trying to catch that out in front? Nearly impossible.
Next is Go Young-su. He’s staying back in his normal stance.
Raiders hitters have to be getting headaches. Stand up front and a 155 km/h rising four-seamer is in your face; stay back and the knuckleball is dancing all over the place.
And there’s the knuckleball—swing and a miss. Go Young-su’s bat is nowhere near it.
I retired the side in order in the second.
Pitch count through two: twenty-one.
Solid start.