Korean Series Game 4
The Raiders had not managed to put a proper starting pitcher on the mound even once in this Korean Series, aside from Game 1.
Juan Sanchez, who had started Game 1, had been fine, but Bisner’s condition issues completely unraveled everything from Game 2 onward.
In Game 2, Kwon Jong-jin took the mound with stamina problems; in Game 3, Bisner climbed it already compromised. Neither overcame those issues, and the series stood at 0–3.
If they had scraped even a single win, Manager Oh Jeong-geun of the Raiders would surely have tried something different for Game 4.
Pinned at three losses, though, he had no options left. He simply lacked the confidence that the pitchers who had been handling the fourth and fifth starter roles would be better than Juan Sanchez after three days of rest.
Manager Oh Jeong-geun was praying that Juan Sanchez would just hold them for five innings.
And for a while, Juan Sanchez looked like he was answering that prayer.
“Out!”
Sanchez came down off the mound after recording the third out. His expression was bright after shutting them out through three innings, yet sweat streamed down his face even in the chilly weather.
“Is he out of his mind…? Or is he planning to quit baseball after today? Why is he throwing like his life depends on it?”
Jo Changjun, who had been the last batter of the third, grumbled as he returned to the dugout.
Exactly as Jo Changjun said, Sanchez was pouring every ounce of strength into every pitch.
The result: three innings, one hit, no runs.
Our starter, Lee Yong-hun, on the other hand, had already given up one run through two innings—a solo home run to leadoff hitter Jo Sangwon in the bottom of the first.
I had worried he might unravel after surrendering the first run in such a huge game, but Lee Yong-hun steadied himself right away and finished the second cleanly.
And then—
“Out!”
“Out!”
He allowed a single but turned a double play to close out the bottom of the third.
Lee Yong-hun was throwing well.
All that remained was for our hitters to solve Sanchez.
Top of the fourth.
Crack!
Ah! It’s huge! Huge! Going! Going! Going~! Savers’ number-three hitter Shane Williams launches a game-tying solo shot in the top of the fourth!!
With one out in the top of the fourth, Shane’s massive solo home run suddenly exploded.
After three days of rest, Sanchez’s velocity was still solid, but the life on the ball had dulled just a little.
He had held them through three innings, yet Shane—who had already faced him once—did not miss the second time.
And immediately after—
Wait! Again! It’s going again~! Savers captain Seo Gyeongmin! Back-to-back home runs flip the lead!!
Our captain’s back-to-back shot.
Another two-seamer.
From the Raiders’ dugout the pitching coach headed for the mound, and their bullpen suddenly turned chaotic.
Watching that, our manager Park Donghoon spoke.
“Michael Len. Kang Hajin. Get ready.”
He was going all-in.
The Savers make the first pitching change. On the mound is Michael Len. Game 1 winner Michael Len takes the ball as a reliever in Game 4.
Manager Park Donghoon has no intention of letting this Korean Series drag to a fifth game. The moment they took the lead he immediately sent Michael Len and Kang Hajin to the bullpen. He means to finish it right here.
To cut straight to the result: Manager Park’s use of Michael Len out of the bullpen failed.
Except for his earliest days as a pro, Michael Len had spent years exclusively as a starter. A short warm-up simply could not get his body ready to compete.
Manager Park must have believed Len’s pure stuff would still carry him… but leaving Lee Yong-hun out there longer would probably have been better.
“Ball four.”
“Out!”
“Safe!”
“Ball four.”
Ah… Michael Len is unraveling. Second walk of the inning. Bases loaded now. One out, bases loaded.
Here he comes. Taking the ball. It’s a change.
Michael Len’s failure.
But… I am different.
Until only last year I had lived the life of a pitcher who sprinted to the mound the second anyone called my name. Sure, it was almost always when we were already losing…
Down five, down ten, and every once in a great while when we were up by ten… whenever they called, I had to climb that hill.
There were days I threw maybe ten warm-up pitches in the pen and then walked straight into the game.
After the trade last year, working as a closer proved that none of that experience had been wasted.
I… no longer needed much time to get my body ready.
Kang Hajin steps out of the bullpen. Following Michael Len, Kang Hajin takes the mound!
Whoa… he’s bringing in both Game 1 and Game 2 starters. You can feel just how ruthless Manager Park Donghoon is being right now.
“How’s the body?”
“Feeling goo~d.”
“You’re not thinking of just giving up a run… right?”
“Of course not.”
“Still, assume you’re giving one up.”
“Yep~!”
After that short exchange with Ko Mandeok and a few warm-up tosses—
“Of all people, it’s you again~.”
Olympic team number-three hitter, but batting sixth for his club—Go Youngsu stepped in.
He was the only player people said had actually grown through the Olympics, the guy who had supposedly added contact to pure power.
But was it really thanks to the Olympics? I remembered that right after he came back his swing had been a complete mess; he had floundered through a slump before finally climbing out. Why everyone kept giving the Olympics the credit still puzzled me.
Thwack!
“Stri~ke!”
Didn’t matter. To me he was just easy prey.
“Foul.”
With that bat speed he would never catch up to my fastball. Sure, if he sat on one pitch and started early he might foul one off.
But how was he supposed to know what I was throwing?
Go Youngsu. 0-2 count, facing the third pitch. Third pitch—ah! Swing and a miss~ strikeout! The splitter that dives down and in freezes him for the K.
I retired Go Youngsu on three pitches and faced the next batter, Lee Jun.
This guy felt far more troublesome than Go Youngsu.
Lee Jun never got greedy.
Most hitters, when a scoring chance arrives, start pressing for the RBI.
Lee Jun had none of that. Same expression, same swing every single time.
It looked like a weak, almost lazy cut, yet somehow the bat always found a way to make contact.
Of course contact alone does not produce solid contact, which is why his average stayed under .300…
But in baseball, even a broken-bat bleeder finds grass more often than you want, and with two outs and the bases loaded that made him a real headache.
One soft liner into a weird gap and the whole inning turns ugly.
First pitch: slider.
I threw it to the farthest outside corner against the right-handed Lee Jun, the one that looks like it will catch the zone then dives away.
“Stri~ke!”
Lee Jun simply watched it go by and gave a small nod.
Ko Mandeok, staring him down, called for another slider—this one a ball’s width off the plate.
“Ball.”
Again he just watched.
“Is he sitting on something else?”
After a moment’s thought Ko Mandeok called for a two-seamer in on the hands. Even if it missed for a ball, bury it. Lee Jun was crowding the plate.
“What if it hits him…”
I nodded, found the two-seam grip inside my glove, and fired toward the mitt Ko Mandeok had set right on the inner edge.
Crack!
“Ah! Fuck.”
As if he had known it was coming, Lee Jun opened his stance and yanked the inside pitch.
The instant it left the bat I thought we were dead and snapped my head toward third.
And then I saw it—Park Jeonghun launching himself like Superman and snatching the ball out of the air.
“Whoa, fuck!”
He hit the ground, rolled once, then raised his glove to show the ball still nestled inside.
“Out!”
“Waaaaaaaaaah!!!”
The stands packed with our fans simply detonated with joy.
“Are you serious right now? From where I stood it looked like he was floating sideways in mid-air.”
“Heh heh.”
“Thank you~ I really thought I was about to become the losing pitcher.”
“Forget the thanks.”
Park Jeonghun tapped my outstretched glove with a grin and headed for the dugout—where, of course, he immediately got mobbed and beaten half to death by the rest of the team.
Top of the fifth. After crisis comes opportunity. After opportunity comes crisis.
Every baseball fan knows the saying and believes it.
Crack.
“Nice!!”
Ko Mandeok ripped a single and stood on first.
Once again the pitching coach climbed the mound and took the ball from Sanchez.
After four innings and two runs, Sanchez was done. In his place came Im Jonghun—who had not appeared even once this entire Korean Series.
The best closer in the country was entering in the fifth.
“Already? What’s he going to do later?”
“Right now is what matters, I guess. If the lead gets any bigger there’s no answer—especially with you already on our mound.”
I hadn’t really been looking for an answer, but Taeseong-hyung had somehow appeared beside me and supplied one. Then he added one more line.
“Our little Hajin really has grown up. I never expected you to be this good.”
“Heh heh. All thanks to you, hyung~ From the trade to the training. Thank you~”
“As long as you know. Heh.”
Of course I knew. I wasn’t so hopeless that I’d forget something like that.
“Out!”
“Out!”
After the long rest, Im Jonghun’s stuff was terrifying.
A four-seamer just below the zone jammed the bat for a double play. Four more pitches later he struck out the side and the threat was gone.
“Just this inning, all right?”
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
The pitching coach caught my arm as I grabbed my glove and headed for the mound. I gave him a confident nod and climbed the hill.
The result: three up, three down.
I finished the three batters cleanly and returned. The pitching coach told me I’d done well.
That meant I was done for the day.
Honestly I could have gone all the way to the ninth; the stamina was there. But when the coach said we had to save something for a possible next game, I simply nodded and accepted it.
Then came the bottom of the sixth, and that decision started to sting a little.
A manager’s pitching changes cannot always succeed. He had trusted the arms he sent out, yet the opposing hitters still believed they could do damage when they stepped in…
Through Oh Gyushin and then Hwang Chan-young in the bottom of the sixth, we surrendered one run and the game was knotted again.
Score: 2–2.
Top of the seventh. On the Raiders’ mound appeared Bisner—who had thrown only a single inning in Game 3.