Today's Star
Top of the fifth. Standing on the mound waiting for the umpire's call, I glanced over at the Raiders' dugout without really meaning to.
Something about their side looked off—scattered, restless.
A few guys were stretching with bats in hand. Others were huddled around Manager Oh Jeong-geun, listening to whatever he was saying.
Ko Mandeok must have noticed it too; he looked my way and gave a little shrug. Roughly translated: Beats me.
Finally the leadoff man, Kwak In-heon, stepped into the box.
"Hmm…"
Weird. Why was he standing so far off the plate?
I worked the inner half a lot, so every now and then a hitter would crowd the outer edge just to stay alive. But Kwak In-heon had never been that type—until right now.
And the bat. The same guy who usually took full cuts had choked up, gripping it short.
What is this? Is he just going to spit on everything outside?
Ko Mandeok caught the change immediately and put down a slider that would break well off the plate—bigger break than the cutter I'd been leaning on all day.
"Stri~ke!"
The slider kissed the outer black. Kwak In-heon never even flinched.
He's really taking everything?
Another slider sign, this one a ball's width farther out.
"Ball."
After getting burned once, most hitters would at least wave at the next one. Still nothing.
Outside again—this time a four-seamer.
"Stri~ke!"
Three straight pitches on the outer half and not a single swing. He was just letting them go like they didn't exist.
I had no idea what he was thinking, but I decided to finish him. Outside again, only this time a splitter in case he finally decided to offer.
Tick.
"Foul."
First swing of the at-bat. Hips flying open, arms stretched to the limit, he just managed to nick it off the end of the bat.
"Foul."
"Foul."
And then the cutting started. Short bat, soft hands, just poking everything foul. No intention of driving the ball—pure survival swings.
"Stri~ke! Out!"
A high fastball finally got him to swing through empty air. Out. But it had taken seven pitches.
I'd been thrifty all day with cutters and two-seamers. First time anyone had forced me to seven.
Next batter should have been the Raiders' three-hole, Go Yeong-su. Instead they sent up a pinch hitter.
Thirty-three-year-old veteran Na Han-gil.
These days the bat speed was gone and he mostly came off the bench, but back in the day he'd been a real handful.
"Ahh… so that's the game."
Watching him dig in, I finally understood. They wanted to run my pitch count up.
Na Han-gil planted himself at the very back of the box and choked up the same way Kwak had.
Exact same look.
Too bad I've already seen this movie.
Manager Oh Jeong-geun was clearly trying to stretch me out so they could make a late push—especially with Kwon Jong-jin still dealing on their side. Completely understandable strategy.
The problem was that Ko Mandeok and I had been ready for this exact situation from the jump. Honestly, "ready" was generous.
"Stri~ke!"
"Stri~ke!"
"Out!"
If a guy wants to cut everything, just throw something he can't touch. I happen to own a pitch that cheats: the knuckleball.
Throw too many and the velocity dips; leave a little spin on one and it becomes a meatball. Those are the real drawbacks.
But with a bat that short, nobody's hitting a home run off it. Worst case I give up a single.
Three knucklers later, Na Han-gil tapped a weak grounder back to the mound and trudged back to the dugout.
Next up: Lee Jun.
"Already giving up?"
Lee Jun settled into his normal stance. Looks like Manager Oh had waved the white flag pretty quick.
"Works for me."
Tick.
A two-seamer that bored in hard got a piece of the bat and rolled harmlessly toward second.
"Out!"
Clean inning.
"You know how annoying it must be to face a guy who throws like you?"
"Heh heh heh."
"If it were me I'd 'accidentally' let the bat slip and fling it right at the pitcher."
"…You trying to kill somebody?"
"What do I care? I'm the one who's pissed."
"My wife's a scary woman."
Bottom of the seventh for the Savers. Seo Gyeongmin singles, but the inning ends scoreless. Still 1–0. And look who's still on the mound for the top of the eighth—Kang Hajin.
This is high-level pitching on both sides. Combined, the two teams have only five hits. Even more impressive—neither pitcher has walked a single batter all night.
For Kwon Jong-jin, that surprise home run off Park Jeonghun has to sting.
There was nothing Kwon could do about that one. Park just crushed a perfectly located curveball. When a hitter does that, a pitcher is helpless.
Tick.
Hit softly. Third baseman Park Jeonghun gathers it easily and fires to first—out.
Outstanding defense. He was already moving to the spot before the ball even left the bat. Lightning-quick reads.
"Nice play, hyung!"
Having Park Jeonghun at third made everything feel easy. Zero worry about a ball getting past him. His range was so wide that Choi Min-gi at short could finally breathe; anything borderline, Park simply ate it up first. The whole left side of the infield had shrunk.
I retired the next two hitters on routine outs and walked off the mound. And of course, Kwon Jong-jin was still out there for them.
"He's really going the distance, huh…"
"You haven't come out either. Why would he?"
"I could come out."
"Yeah, right. This is pure pride now."
"Damn pride."
"Besides, his pitch count's still fine. Why pull him?"
"This inning puts him at a hundred, doesn't it?"
"True."
"So he could come out."
"The man regularly throws a hundred twenty."
"Shit."
While we talked, Ko Mandeok stripped off his gear in record time, grabbed a bat, and headed out of the dugout.
Bottom of the eighth, starting with the seven-hole: Ko Mandeok.
Tick.
"Ooooh!"
He punched the first pitch through the right side for a clean single.
Manager Park was on his feet instantly, flashing the sacrifice sign to the next hitter, Lee Won-jeong.
The bunt rolled a little toward the pitcher, but Ko Mandeok's jump was so good he slid into second with room to spare.
Nine-hole: Na Seung-won.
I was a little puzzled. Why hadn't Manager Park put in a pinch-runner for Ko Mandeok? Ju Yang-gyu was sitting right there in the dugout—fast, smart baserunner.
But Manager Park left Ko Mandeok out there the whole way.
Does he not trust Jong-seong?
Come to think of it, Jeong Jong-seong had been catching fewer and fewer games as the season went on. Early on he'd started every now and then; lately Ko Mandeok was basically the everyday guy.
Every game matters this late, so maybe… but still. Even in a spot like this?
Na Seung-won worked the count carefully, fouling off the second pitch, then waited for the third.
Tick.
"Waaaaaah!!"
The ball shot past the pitcher and skipped over second base.
Na Seung-won's single. Center fielder Jo Sang-won charged hard and cut it off, forcing Ko Mandeok to hold at third.
That made the earlier decision sting even more. With Ju Yang-gyu, maybe we challenge the plate.
"Please…"
Tick.
Almost before I could hope, Jo Chang-jun popped the first pitch into the infield and was gone.
Two outs, Choi Min-gi at the plate.
He battled to a full count, but the contact was weak—another high infield pop. Inning over.
Frustrating, but the chance was gone. We weren't trailing or tied; we still led by that lonely one run.
One more inning. Top of the ninth. Three outs and we beat Kwon Jong-jin.
Strikeout! Kang Hajin freezes Hwang Dong-gu, then punches out Jo Sang-won. One out remaining!
Remember, Kang Hajin won their first matchup earlier this season. Word was Kwon Jong-jin came into tonight locked in and ready… but Kang is simply dealing.
Victory is one out away for Kang Hajin in the rematch. He faces what could be the final batter—Kim Min-seok.
Two outs. Kim Min-seok in the box. Not a guy you lose sleep over for power—maybe five home runs a year on a good season.
I got ahead with a fastball for strike one. Then the changeup sign.
"Ah…"
The second it left my hand I knew. This was bad.
CRACK!
"…Fuck."
And the instant the ball met the bat I knew again—this was really bad.
Kim Min-seok sends it deep! The left fielder… gives up. That ball is gone—solo home run! We're all tied up!
Mistake pitch. The changeup never dropped—just hung middle-middle. Kim Min-seok did not miss it.
I'd gotten careless. I'd decided he couldn't hurt me with extra bases and paid for it.
The guy still hit his five a year, every year.
Kang Hajin comes back to strike out Evan Kawit. But thanks to Kim Min-seok's solo shot, this game is anyone's now.
Kwon Jong-jin had thrown a hundred one pitches through eight. You'd think he'd be running on fumes… yet he trotted back out for the ninth and started pumping 150-kilometer heat like it was the first inning.
Shane and Seo Gyeongmin went down in order. That brought up the only guy who'd scored for us all night—Park Jeonghun.
Since the solo shot, Park hadn't done much at the plate. Just the usual Park Jeonghun again.
Sorry to say it, but I honestly wasn't expecting much.
I was already getting ready to go back out for the tenth.
Ninety-eight pitches through nine for me. All those cutters and two-seamers had kept the count low. Manager Park came over and asked, "What do you want to do?" I told him I was still good. That was the whole conversation.
I jammed my cap back on, rested the glove on my thigh, and waited to take the mound the second Park made the final out.
CRAAAAACK!!
Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!!! Walk-off!!
It's gone! He got every bit of it!
Park Jeonghun turns on a 149-kilometer four-seamer and launches it over the right-field wall! This game is over!!
Who the hell did I think I was, deciding what someone could or couldn't do?
I'd taken the only guy who'd put a run on the board for us and casually written him off as an automatic out.
And that same guy had just hit another home run and was circling the bases like he owned the place.
"Haa… what an idiot."
I was about to start beating myself up when—
"What are you doing? You coming?"
Ko Mandeok stood there holding two bottles of water, looking at me.
"Yeah. Of course I'm coming."
We both sprinted out of the dugout to meet today's star.