Here It Comes
"Following yesterday, Kang Hajin takes the mound again today. He climbs the hill in the ninth to secure the team's victory."
"Yesterday he put on a truly astonishing performance. We'll have to watch and see whether he can deliver the same kind of outing tonight."
"Trailing 5–2, the Jinmyeong Falcons send up their leadoff man for the inning: sixth batter Jin Seonjin, who already drove in a run with a timely hit earlier."
"Jin Seonjin is a hitter who thrives on fastballs. Whether he can square up Kang Hajin's four-seamer will be the key to this at-bat."
"Exactly. Kang Hajin's first pitch—swing and a miss! A 151-kilometer fastball digs in on the hands!"
"Bold choice. Instead of going after Jin Seonjin's weakness with off-speed stuff, Kang Hajin is challenging him head-on."
Ko Mandeok called for another heater on the second pitch.
"Swing and a miss. Second pitch is another fastball at 152 kilometers—a high heater that freezes him completely."
"He's just attacking without hesitation. Both of them know full well that Jin Seonjin crushes fastballs, yet they're still living up there."
"Does that mean they simply trust Kang Hajin's stuff that much?"
"Seems that way. They say Kang Hajin's four-seamer has a slight rising action to it. A hitter seeing that pitch for the first time is going to have a rough time."
"Ah—right as you say it, the third pitch! Swing-and-miss strikeout! A changeup completely steals the hitter's timing."
Maybe it was because this was the bottom of the order, but I felt freer than I had yesterday.
Four consecutive three-pitch strikeouts dating back to yesterday.
My confidence in my stuff only grew.
For the seventh batter, Ko Mandeok called for the four-seamer again.
Crack!
The ball floated weakly into the air and settled into the shortstop's glove for a routine fly out.
Then another four-seam sign.
No need to show anything else?
Crack!
A pitch painted on the outer edge caught the end of the bat and rolled harmlessly toward first.
"Out!"
The first baseman scooped it and stepped on the bag himself, ending the game.
Five pitches.
That was all it took to close out the ninth tonight.
I was coming off the mound, high-fiving teammates, when someone approached.
"Um… Kang Hajin. I… think you're going to need to come with me for a bit."
A man who looked like club staff spoke with an apologetic tone, almost as if he were asking a favor.
I listened, wondering what this was about, and then it clicked.
"So you're saying the doping people are here and they want to test me?"
"Yes, that's right."
"I've only been with this team two days. Do they normally show up this fast?"
"Well… technically this is how it's supposed to work. But honestly, they almost never come mid-season like this. Especially not just for one specific player—this is a first for me too. I have no idea what's going on."
"Hah… Fine. Let's go."
I'd expected them eventually. They just arrived a lot sooner than I thought.
The staffer looked genuinely sorry for some reason, but all I felt was a quiet well, here it comes.
Of course a little anxiety sat in my gut. If the result somehow came back positive, my entire baseball career would sink straight into the mud.
In front of the two men waiting at the designated spot, I had to provide a urine sample.
The atmosphere was a bit heavy-handed, yet the whole thing finished almost immediately—far easier than I'd braced for.
"That old bastard snitched, didn't he?"
"Huh?"
When I finally explained to Ho-min—who had stuck around again to watch me pitch—why I'd been so late getting out, that was the first thing out of his mouth.
Suspicion that the Dragons manager had tipped them off.
"I heard that guy is thick as thieves with their owner. Word is he even plays the GM like a puppet."
"I've heard that too…"
"Exactly. So he probably went to the owner and put pressure on the GM to force a test."
"…No way."
I said it out loud, but inside I knew it was entirely possible.
That manager was catching heat from every direction right now.
Team record in the toilet. The players he babied were producing nothing. And then I went and exploded at the absolute peak of my form.
"He already couldn't stand the sight of you. Now he's eating shit because of you—he'd do it in a heartbeat. God, that senile old bastard."
"Tch. What can you do? Doesn't matter. Nothing's going to come of it anyway."
"True enough. Still… damn it. Anyway, you were great again today."
"Yeah… yeah."
After those two saves, I didn't get another chance for the next three games.
The final game against the Jinmyeong Falcons was a blowout, so there was no reason to warm up. The two road games that followed were losses, so I sat those out as well.
Then came Sunday against the KY Jaguars.
Our fourth starter versus their fifth. From the first inning the game turned into pure chaos.
Jaguars starter Lee Chandong couldn't record a single out, surrendered four runs, and got yanked. The guy who replaced him immediately gave up two more.
We thought we had the game in hand after the first, but then our own starter, Choi Geunho, walked two with two outs, allowed a single, and then a home run—four runs of his own.
First inning: 6–4. Both starters were already gone by the second, and the hitters just kept raking.
Pitchers kept cycling in and out…
By the end of the fifth the score sat at 11–9.
The bullpen was spinning like a revolving door. Already on a two-game skid and staring at a potential sweep, every reliever was ready to protect today's lead—everyone except me.
Our half of the sixth finally went down in order for the first time in a while. Then the bottom of the sixth arrived.
Twenty-three-year-old lefty Kim Seokhwan took the mound and threw his first pitch.
Crack!
"What the hell is wrong with this park? Why does every ball that gets hit just leave?"
Jo Sangjun, sitting next to me, grumbled as he watched yet another pitch sail over the fence.
Honestly, Jo Sangjun made me a little uncomfortable. We'd barely spoken, but from his perspective a kid who'd just been traded in had basically stolen his closer job. I couldn't help feeling awkward around him.
"Looks like you're going in today too."
"I'll go whenever they need me."
"You might have to throw a little longer tonight. You okay with that?"
For a second I didn't follow.
"That… thing you have, right? The thirty-pitch limit."
"Ah—that. I'm fine."
I hadn't expected him to bring it up. After two outings here where pitch count never even crossed my mind, I'd already forgotten.
"It's 11–10… If we can just hold them and get you in for the ninth, that'd be ideal. But if it ties up we could be looking at extras."
"I'm good. I'll throw my heart out."
"That's not what I—look…"
Why was he dancing around like this? I was already self-conscious; this only made it worse.
"Going all-out is great, but… maybe mixing in a little pace control wouldn't hurt?"
"Huh? Oh—yes. I'll try that."
"No, never mind. What am I doing giving advice to a kid who's already dealing? I'll just try to keep them off the board a little longer myself."
What was this? A veteran, a senior, waving his hands like he'd said something he shouldn't have.
I felt embarrassed for having doubted his intentions.
"Anyway—you don't throw a dropping slider?"
Before I could answer he pivoted hard, suddenly talking about sliders as if he needed to change the subject.
"A dropping one? I'd love to have one, but it never really clicked with me."
"Yeah? Your slider already moves more like a sweeper. Even your changeup seems to fade more than it drops."
"That's right."
"Hmm… A pitch that actually falls off the table would be nice to have…"
I'd thought the same thing. Everything I threw just ran sideways. The curve was still sealed away.
"Ever tried a splitter?"
"No."
"Not even once?"
"In high school the coach told me to wait and learn it in pro ball. At my last team there was nobody who could teach it…"
"That so?"
Jo Sangjun had made his name with the splitter. Even now it was solid, but in his prime hitters used to say they knew it was coming and still couldn't hit it.
"Want me to show you?"
"R-really?"
"Sure. Not like I'm telling you to throw it in a game tomorrow. Just get the feel for it now and lock it in after the season."
"Th-thank you."
"Don't thank me. Here—watch. I grip it like this."
"Yes."
Jo Sangjun showed me the grip himself, then started walking me through exactly how he threw the splitter, step by step.
He didn't just sit there talking—he stood up and demonstrated.
Because of that, the other guys sitting behind us started paying attention too.
"Of course this is how I throw it. You'll still have to find the grip and release that fit you."
"Understood. Thank you."
This guy… no, this man… this senior… was he actually this good of a person?
It was a feeling I'd never once experienced since turning pro.
A veteran willingly teaching his signature weapon to a junior. My whole body trembled with gratitude.
"I'll die before I let them score tonight."
"Huh? Oh… uh, yeah. Sure."
Okay, that was too much. I'd overdone it.
Jo Sangjun quietly found somewhere else to sit.
Bottom of the eighth. Score: 12–12.
In the end Jo Sangjun took the mound himself. Thankfully he shut the door in the eighth.
With how many runs were scored early, do you even call this 'good' pitching or just 'not terrible'?
The game had been so wild from the jump that holding them scoreless for an inning almost looked impressive.
Top of the ninth. We went down quietly and finished regulation still locked at twelve.
Bottom of the ninth, Jo Sangjun stayed on the hill.
He gave up a single, but he leaned on the same splitter he'd just shown me and worked two clean innings without allowing a run.
Then the tenth. In the bullpen, someone other than me started getting loose—Lee Yong-hun, our fifth starter.
The calculation was obvious: once tonight ended we'd have an off day, and Tuesday Michael Len could take the ball again as the ace.
If we scored in the top of the tenth, it would be me. If not, Lee Yong-hun was the plan.
We went scoreless again in the top of the tenth. Which meant…
Lee Yong-hun climbed the mound for the bottom half.
His stuff looked decent.
He'd been a starter, but the situation had forced him into this role tonight. Unlike his last disastrous outing, he was actually locating and competing.
I was watching from outside the bullpen, thinking he might just get through it, when the bench coach walked over to me.