The Olympics
Having blown a promising chance in the top of the first, the national team took the field for the bottom half. Na Honggi climbed the mound.
And then the pitching began.
"Stri~ke!"
"Ball."
"Ball."
"Ball."
"Stri~ke!"
"Strike three! You're out!"
Weaving the ball in and out of the zone with flashy command, he punched out the leadoff hitter on strikes.
"Whoa… that control…"
Hyeon-bin, who still didn't know much about Na Honggi, was impressed. But—
"That isn't control. His command is so bad the ball just ends up there. Even if he wanted to put it somewhere specific, he couldn't."
"Huh?"
"He's probably just aiming dead center every pitch."
"Whaaat? But it was missing way outside and everything…"
"That's just how his stuff works. The guy has no zero point. None."
"……"
Hyeon-bin's face went blank at my and Ko Mandeok's explanation.
But what could you do? Pitchers like that existed.
Amazingly, Na Honggi faced three batters in the first and racked up three strikeouts before coming off the mound.
On the third punch-out he pumped his fist, and the broadcast cameras cut straight to Manager Min Gucheol sitting in the dugout.
A faint smile played at the corners of Min Gucheol's mouth.
"His command's the same as always, but the stuff itself looks decent, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. The guy who scrapes by once a year is trying to scrape by twice."
"When did he scrape by the other time?"
"What are you talking about? You took a three-hit shutout loss to him."
"Ah…"
The Netherlands' Ron Karaga worked through the first-inning jam and, with his arm a little looser, breezed through the second.
Then came the bottom of the second. Na Honggi, who had seemed to be having one of those days—
Na Honggi was being Na Honggi.
"It's honestly amazing he's made a living for ten years with command like that."
"He scrapes together close to ten wins a year on pure velocity alone."
"It's genuinely infuriating, you know? The ball just wanders in and out however it feels like, and somehow that makes it even harder to hit."
I figured it was just a plate-discipline problem, but if they said so, fine.
While I was chatting with Ko Mandeok—
CRACK!
Maybe he really was just aiming at the middle… His command had gotten a little too good. The pitch Na Honggi threw went straight down the pipe.
A 153-kilometer-per-hour four-seam fastball, dead center. The Dutch batter didn't miss a pitch that juicy and sent it over the wall.
"It's over."
"Yeah. It's over."
"Now the only question is how many they put up…"
All four of us watching TV together could tell.
That home run had just handed the game away.
The pitching coach came out to the mound, talked with Na Honggi, and went back in.
But Na Honggi's mental game was shot—another walk show.
He issued two more free passes in a row before handing the mound over to Lee Chandong, who had scrambled to get loose.
"Aigoo… of all times for that guy to…"
"He's already catching so much heat, and now he has to come into a game like this."
Lee Chandong's face was locked tight.
It was the first international appearance of his life, and his body looked frozen solid.
Of all situations, he'd been thrown in with runners on first and second and nobody out. It was only the second inning, but the score was already 3–0. If they gave up any more runs here, today's game could slip completely out of reach.
If he'd come in under easier circumstances, it might have been different…
Lee Chandong threw two balls the moment he stepped on the rubber. Completely wild pitches to spots no batter could possibly swing at.
Rushing his warm-up was part of it… and the situation itself had him wound tight.
"Don't throw it down the middle just because the count's against you. You'll get destroyed."
The words were barely out of Ko Mandeok's mouth when—
CRACK!
The game had well and truly gotten away from them.
Lee Chandong couldn't even stop the runner from second from coming home.
Bottom of the second. Score: 6–0.
"That's our captain!!!!"
"Nice!!"
"That bat is lethal!!"
Our captain, Seo Gyeongmin, led off the bottom of the second and crushed a solo home run—but that was it.
Beyond our captain, the rest of the lineup looked so lifeless you had to wonder if they even intended to play baseball.
Manager Min Gucheol rode Lee Chandong all the way through the fifth. He gave up two more runs along the way.
The game sat at 8–1 through the seventh.
The Netherlands started wrapping things up.
They pulled their starters, put backups on the field, and sent a lesser arm to the mound.
"Man… this is some shit…"
"They said this was a must-win, and now we're just lucky it didn't end in a mercy rule?"
"I know. God, seriously…"
As angry as Ko Mandeok and I were at the national team, this wasn't the kind of game we'd wanted. A pathetic performance like this…
CRACK!
Our captain had launched yet another home run… and the broadcast booth raised their voices with passionate conviction that it was still possible… but—
The game ended in a thorough thrashing for our side.
"Haa… this is such bullshit."
"Those idiots. They pick a roster full of guys like that and expect to win… haa…"
"Why are you two so disappointed? We knew we were going to lose, didn't we? Right? Hyeon-bin, what's with you?"
"Uh… did I just nail the score?"
"Huh? Ah!"
And our Hyeon-bin had called the final score.
The national team's second opponent was Canada.
Honestly, they were even stronger than the Netherlands. But people wanted a win here to flip the momentum.
Plenty of voices said that if they ran one of the big three starters and the bats woke up, it was winnable.
But Manager Min Gucheol's choice was Ki Chan-su. The same Ki Chan-su who had crumbled against the combined squad that included me the day before the All-Star Game.
The same guy who'd nearly taken a bat to the face from me.
Facing Canada, Ki Chan-su lasted 2.1 innings and gave up six runs before he had to come off the mound.
After Ki Chan-su, our own Hwang Chan-young took over. And Hwang Chan-young pitched brilliantly through the sixth, allowing just one run.
If the hitters had done anything while Hwang Chan-young was somehow holding the fort, it might actually have been a fight.
But the bats stayed silent again today. Even our captain couldn't generate anything, and zeros kept stacking on the scoreboard.
Then came the seventh.
"That crazy old man is actually…"
Manager Min Gucheol made a baffling pitching change in the seventh of a game that was already gone, bringing in Kang Chanjung.
The score was 7–0. Completely incomprehensible pitcher management.
Two limp losses later, all hell broke loose.
With a national team that looked like it had zero interest in winning, the communities were never going to stay quiet.
Articles full of fretting and communities wallpapered in curses.
Everyone's worry was the same. Getting knocked out in the prelims wasn't even the issue.
Honestly, looking at the team right now, elimination seemed inevitable.
No—the real anxiety was the national team's third game. The matchup against Japan.
The fear that they'd roll over for Japan too. And that the result would hand Japan something to mock them with.
Then something came along that poured even more fuel on the fire.
Interviews coming out of Japan made their way over to our side.
The whole place went nuclear.
Manager Min Gucheol gave interviews saying they'd win this time, but the furious baseball fans weren't buying it…
They'd gotten off to a better start than the first two games, but they still surrendered the first runs in the fifth.
In the sixth, Gwak Jeongmin came on in place of Na Jeonggi, and Gwak Jeongmin held the mound scoreless through the seventh.
Our captain launched a solo shot to start the chase—and that was all.
On top of that, Kim Gyuyeol pulled off a deranged between-the-legs play that completely snuffed out any will to chase.
Gwak Jeongmin allowed one run on a hit and the error. After eight, the deficit was two again.
They lost to Japan too—three losses. The name Republic of Korea was stamped at the very bottom of the standings.
Baseball fans had gone past burning and straight into detonation.
To quiet those fans even a little, a win was desperately needed now…
For the fourth game, against the Dominican Republic, the last remaining starting ace, Jang Seonhyeok, took the mound.
And in that game, facing a Dominican lineup stacked with Major Leaguers, Jang Seonhyeok somehow turned in the performance of a lifetime—seven scoreless innings.
On top of that, the bats finally… no, for the first time… exploded for five runs, an enormous output.
Kang Chanjung in the eighth and Im Jonghun in the ninth—the best closers in the country—finished it off.
One win, three losses. Still dead last in the standings.
But if they could take down their next opponent, Taiwan, a real chance would start to take shape.