The Practice Game
Before the game against the San Diego Padres even started, we took one look at their lineup and nearly lost it.
"What the fuck is this supposed to be? A Major League team? This is minor league shit."
"Come on, even for a practice game this is ridiculous. This can't be right."
"These bastards must think that's all we're worth."
"Yeah. Not a game big leaguers need to bother showing up for. That's why they put this lineup together."
"Ah, fuck. I was looking forward to this so damn much…"
Everyone was fuming for the same reason: not a single Major Leaguer was on the opposing roster.
Of course we knew that in a preseason practice game you'd see guys who'd been playing in the minors. We understood that. But still—not even one?
And though we hadn't realized it at first glance, more than half of them turned out to be Double-A players. In other words, the kids the organization was developing.
You could argue they were still impressive prospects. You could say most of the foreign pitchers in our own league came out of the minors, so we should stay sharp. You could insist the level wasn't actually that low…
"Ah, the more I think about it the more pissed off I get."
It still grated.
"If we beat the hell out of them, they'll have to send someone out, right?"
"You'd think so. They brought them here for a reason."
We steeled ourselves with pure spite.
We were the home team. As the top of the first approached I climbed the mound and slowly got ready.
Once I was set, the first batter ambled in, casually swinging his bat. Not especially tall, a little skinny—looked like a speed guy. And yet the practice swing he took before stepping in was so wild you'd have thought he was a pure power hitter.
He settled into the box and Ko Mandeok wasted no time flashing the sign. He clearly wanted to startle them right from the jump.
Whump!
"Ball."
The four-seamer rode in tight on the batter's hands. He jerked back in shock, didn't even bother picking up the bat he'd flung away, and just glared at me.
"The fuck you looking at?"
Like staring was going to do anything.
"He's killing it! A hundred and one!"
Hmm… velocity was better than I expected.
The batter yapped something at the umpire, but the ump couldn't have cared less and just told him to get back in the box. Shaking his head, the guy stepped in again.
Second pitch.
"Strike!"
The ball fluttered and danced, then dropped late into the zone. The batter's eyes flicked back and forth between me and Ko Mandeok in pure confusion.
First time seeing a knuckleball, kid? Look at you jump.
Then a slider and a splitter. Two more consecutive whiffs, and he was gone on strikes.
Next batter. This one was supposed to be a Triple-A guy, right? There were four Triple-A players in the starting lineup; he was probably one of them. Him, the cleanup hitter, the shortstop batting seventh, and the catcher batting eighth.
"Let's see just how special our Triple-A boy is~"
I muttered it without thinking and rocked back on my left leg.
Whump!
"Strike!"
Hmm… a hundred and one. I'd hoped for a little more…
Whump!
Whump!
"Strike! Batter out!"
Three four-seamers for a looking strikeout. He clearly hadn't expected me to come right back inside after two strikes. Still, the way he walked off quietly instead of swaggering like the first guy made me feel a little better.
Now the heart of the order, the three-hole. Word was he was a pretty big deal in Double-A. Just looking at the physical tools, he looked strong as hell—reminded me a bit of our own Shane.
It had been a last-minute practice game and they weren't even Major Leaguers, so we barely knew who was coming out. Naturally we had no idea what their strengths or weaknesses were. So both Ko Mandeok and I had the same simple idea: just go right at them.
"Strike!"
These guys… weren't much, were they?
"Foul."
After the four-seamer I threw a changeup; he barely got the end of the bat on it. All it did was roll foul.
Whump!
"Batter out!"
Third pitch was another four-seamer, chest-high. Completely out of the zone, and his bat still sliced clean through empty air. Just like that the top of the first was over.
"Nothing to them, huh?"
"Right? Kids can't get their heads on straight. They still can't time the late-sinking stuff."
"We can keep riding the four-seamer?"
"All the way if we want."
"Then let's see how far it takes us."
I talked it over with Ko Mandeok as we headed back to the dugout and watched the opposing pitcher take the mound. Another Double-A arm, of course.
Whump!
"Oh, he's got some juice."
"Hey. Isn't that guy staring at you, Hajin?"
"Huh?"
Whump.
"Wait, he really is? Pfft. Hajin, that kid's picking a fight with you."
"…"
What the hell was this? Why was he glaring at me every time he threw when I was just standing here minding my own business?
Turns out the guy also threw a hundred. Left-handed hundred…
But then—
Crack!
"Nice! Nice, Jo Changjun!"
"That's a good swing~"
Our leadoff hitter casually poked one and settled on first. Choi Min-gi followed right behind him.
Crack.
"Good! Run! Run!"
The ball dropped between center and right. First and third, nobody out.
"What the hell? Why are they hitting it so easy?"
"No idea…"
"Is the ball light?"
"We'll ask when he gets here."
We were still marveling at how casually our hitters were going about their business when—
Crack!
"Whoa!"
"Holy shit! It's gone!"
Park Jeonghun, batting third today, jumped on the first pitch and sent it over the wall. Three runs on seven pitches.
"Minors aren't shit! All they got is velocity!"
"You could see exactly where it was coming."
"Light."
All three of them said the same thing when they got back to the dugout side by side. Fast was all it was.
Crack!
"Captain! Run!"
"Go! Second base!"
The captain's liner rocketed off the wall and dropped. The ball was so hard that second base looked a little dicey for a second, but he was safe. Four straight hits and the pitcher's face was completely crumpled.
"They not pulling him?"
"Doesn't look like it. Probably just leave him out there for the inning. It's only a practice game."
"True. Wonder how many we can put up~"
Seven.
In the bottom of the first our team plated seven runs. The pitcher, completely spent, trudged off the mound with his head down. From the mound the atmosphere in their dugout looked like pure chaos. The older guy who seemed to be the manager was screaming his head off—and you couldn't blame him.
Maybe it was because so many of them were young. Once the pitcher started getting lit up and looked ready to collapse, their defensive focus just evaporated. And it was only the first inning… The result was one outright error and another play that might as well have been an error on routine balls, which is how we ended up with seven.
That was probably what the manager was so furious about.
"Looks like he's pretty mad… Well, whose idea was it to send only the kids?"
I found myself rolling my shoulders without thinking. Even though it was just a practice game, the big lead had me feeling good. Whatever edge Ko Mandeok and I had carried into the game had completely melted away. Ko Mandeok was just as fired up.
"Just pump it in!"
Even if they couldn't understand a word we were saying, flashing signs that openly was still…
"Yes, sir~"
Whatever. Fine by me.
Whump!
"Strike!"
Crack.
"Out!"
Now that was Triple-A. He squared up a four-seamer and sent it forward. Park Jeonghun calmly fielded the three-hopper and got the out.
Cutter.
Crack.
"Out!"
Two-seamer.
Crack.
"Out!"
The top of the second took only eight pitches.
*
"Doesn't look like they're planning to send anyone else out."
"Yeah. Tch. Did we score too many? Honestly, I wouldn't send anyone either. What if they get hurt? You know how much those guys make."
"True… Man, this is boring as hell."
"I was hoping to face a Major League arm at least once."
"Same! I wanted to strike out a Major League hitter."
It was the sixth inning. Score was 11–0. I'd come out after the third. With the lead already this big, Manager Park saw no reason to leave me out there any longer and pulled me quickly. Then Hyeon-bin and Oh Gyu-shin came on. The two of them shut it down scoreless through the sixth without any real trouble. By that point our team had given up all of two hits total, so…
Then the seventh.
"Let's go, Hak-yeon!"
Rookie Jang Hak-yeon took the mound. He worked mostly with a heavy fastball, mixing in changeups here and there. He gave up a hit and a walk but still kept them off the board.
Then the eighth. Even Kim Geun-su, who still looked a little shaky, got his turn. Maybe their hitters just weren't used to a submarine pitcher, or maybe they simply didn't feel like playing anymore. Kim Geun-su needed only five pitches to record three outs. He came off the mound with his face flushed bright red.
"That good, huh?"
"Huh? Heh heh. Yeah. N-nothing to it."
"Pfft. Bullshit. Hahahaha."
In the ninth Kim Seok-hwan gave up a solo homer but closed it out from there. Final score: 12–1.
After the game we exchanged the usual formal handshakes and were about to go our separate ways when the opposing manager—the same guy who'd been screaming all day—started walking toward our side.
"Hey. Think he's coming for you?"
"Huh? Why me?"
"Who knows. Maybe he wants to scout you."
"Come on, scout me for what."
But the manager really did walk straight up to me. Our team interpreter, who'd been watching, quickly stepped to my side.
"He says you had a good game today."
I caught that much myself, so—
"Thank you."
—I managed that much in English.
"But he's asking why you didn't hit today."
"Uh… because the score got out of hand? I don't know. Manager didn't send me out."
The interpreter relayed it. The manager said something else.
"He says even after you came out as a pitcher you were still supposed to hit. When they didn't put you in he wondered if something was wrong and wanted to ask."
"Ah—no, nothing's wrong. Just, you know… Oh! Tell him if some Major Leaguers had shown up I might've gone in."
The interpreter rattled it off again.
"Hahahaha. @#%$%^$%^@$%@$5"
"What's he saying?"
"He says he couldn't help it either. The guys' bodies still aren't fully ready."
"If they're not ready now, when the hell are they going to be ready? Give me a break."
"…You want me to pass that along too?"
"No. Just tell him I understand."
I thought that was roughly the end of the conversation, but—
"He says he's been watching you the whole time. He'd like to work with you if the chance ever comes up."
"Huh? Really?"
"Yeah."
"Is this that… tampering thing you only hear about?"
Apparently the manager understood the word "tampering." He clutched his stomach laughing again, gave my shoulder a couple of pats, and turned away.
Looking at him like that he actually seemed pretty gentlemanly. Laughed easily too. Earlier he'd looked ready to devour his own players…
Anyway. San Diego, huh…
An unexpected nibble had just come in.