Left Fielder Kang Hajin
In the top of the first I took a two-seamer that bored in on my hands and casually drove it for a two-RBI single. Feeling pretty good about myself, I trotted back out for defense…
And the whole experience was nothing like standing on the mound.
First off, the crowd noise kept getting under my skin. This was the Jaguars’ home park, so of course their fans were everywhere, and every “Kang Hajin, you bastard” and every snide “Let’s go for five errors tonight~” carried straight to my ears.
The lights were another problem. Those bright stadium lights kept stabbing at my eyes. I could already picture a ball disappearing into the glare while I spun around like an idiot and lost it.
The veterans had warned me half a dozen times to be careful with fly balls here. Said the park was a defensive nightmare.
“Why the hell did it have to be here…?”
If they’d given me my first defensive start at our home park it might have been half-bearable. Instead it was a road game. In a dome, no less.
Even the glove on my hand wasn’t mine. Of course I didn’t own an outfielder’s mitt. I’d borrowed one of Ju Yang-gyu’s backups, and it felt completely alien. I’d taken a few reps during spring training not that long ago, yet somehow it still felt this awkward…
In short, I was a total mess.
Lee Yong-hun finished his warm-up pitches and the Jaguars’ half of the inning began. Their leadoff man, Jo Jung-geun, squared up the first pitch. The ball looked a little jammed, but it still climbed high toward the left-field seats.
“….”
I bolted all the way to the foul line in a panic—only to watch the ball sail cleanly into the stands. Even I could tell I was wound so tight I couldn’t think straight.
Jo Jung-geun eventually singled to center and took first. Ju Yang-gyu charged in, scooped the ball, and before I knew it I was already backing him up. I hadn’t consciously decided to do it; my body just moved. Maybe some muscle memory from the distant days when I actually played the field as a kid was still buried in there…
A little later, the second batter, Kim Tae-seong, lofted one my way. Nothing dramatic—neither too high nor too hard, just a gentle, routine fly. Of course I could catch that.
“Woooooo!”
The reaction was way louder than I expected for such an easy play. Had they really thought I couldn’t even handle this?
Strangely enough, just that one simple catch and the faintly surprised roar from the crowd made a big chunk of the tension melt away.
“N-not so bad. Hmph.”
Not that I was completely relaxed yet.
Lee Yong-hun looked sharp today—he was inducing ground balls left and right. After that first-inning fly ball I hadn’t touched another one. I just stood out there staring into the distance thinking, Nice catch. Nice play. Man, it’s peaceful out here.
Maybe I got a little too comfortable. A sharp crack and suddenly Heo Yun’s line drive was headed my way.
Huh… so my throw had been decent.
Lee Yong-hun clapped in my direction and Seo Gyeongmin gave me a thumbs-up. All I’d done was catch it and fire. I’d just thought “throw it hard” and let it rip—honestly, I’d gotten lucky.
Maybe my head was still half on defense, because the bat felt completely wrong the rest of the night. In my third at-bat I sat on a fastball and still got jammed, the ball dying into the left fielder’s glove. At the moment of contact I thought it might leave the yard…
At least I’d already banked those two RBIs in the first. Small mercies.
Then came the bottom of the seventh. Lee Yong-hun had thrown six scoreless innings and given way to Oh Gyu-shin, who quickly recorded two outs. The next batter ripped a sharp grounder through the hole between short and third. I charged in hard, ready to snatch it—
The ball that had been bouncing nicely suddenly died right in front of my glove, as if the dirt itself had reached up and yanked it down.
“Fuck!”
Yeah. I’d just laid a massive egg.
My head was spinning. Nearly two hours into the game the early nerves had finally faded—only for a crystal-clear mistake to make everything feel even tighter than the first inning.
I found myself glancing toward the dugout. Nothing. No reaction at all. I’d half-expected to be yanked, but our manager clearly had no such intention.
I gave up and looked back toward the mound. Oh Gyu-shin was watching me. He clapped his hands high over his head and mouthed that it was okay.
When I was on the mound and someone made an error behind me, my stomach would churn, but I’d still say “It’s fine.” Honestly, a lot of that had been just going through the motions… but now that I was on the receiving end, it actually meant something.
“Out!”
The nightmare seventh finally ended. The runner from third did score, but Oh Gyu-shin shut the door after that and kept the damage to one run.
Score: 2–1. We scratched and clawed for insurance in the eighth and ninth but came up empty. Bottom of the ninth, Kang Chanjung took the mound.
Kang Chanjung’s stuff was a mess tonight. The two-seamer especially had zero command. The pitching coach finally came out to give him a breather. Breaking the rhythm was fine, but I wasn’t sure it would be enough.
And of course the batter was Pedro Garcia—the guy who could put the barrel on anything.
The coach left. Kang Chanjung and Ko Mandeok didn’t even exchange signs; he went straight into the set. They’d already decided.
The ball left Kang Chanjung’s hand and Garcia’s bat came out to meet it.
Crack!
“Fuck!”
Of course it came right at me…
Our outfield had been playing a couple steps deep—Garcia was a power guy and the bench had put the sign on. But the ball was harder and shorter than expected. If I’d been at normal depth I could have caught it without moving more than a few steps. Instead I had to scramble forward in a panic.
Thankfully the ball settled into my glove. That soft, satisfying give of leather.
“Home!!!”
The instant I caught it, Ju Yang-gyu’s voice exploded from my right. I saw the runner at third break for the plate.
I ripped the ball out of the glove and fired toward Ko Mandeok waiting at home. All the momentum from my charge went into the throw, and the feel off my fingertips was excellent—like a four-seamer that had just bitten perfectly.
The ball smacked into Ko Mandeok’s mitt and he casually tagged the late-arriving runner. Goosebumps raced down my arms.
First I was stunned that the throw had been that accurate. Then I was stunned that, because of it, we had actually won.
I’d been terrified the whole time that the mess I’d made earlier was going to cost us the game…
“Hyung! Holy shit! That throw was insane! You killed it!!”
While I stood there staring blankly at the celebrating teammates in the distance, Ju Yang-gyu sprinted over and wrapped me in a hug.
“Hyung, come on! Hurry! They’re calling for you!”
“Huh? Oh—yeah.”
Right. I should go. My wife was over there bouncing up and down, waving me in.