Earnestness (3)
The longer you stay at the top, the more enemies you make. It's especially true in the sports world, where lining up the pecking order is the whole point.
I was no exception.
The Mid-Central Disaster. The Dodgers' Nightmare. New York's Usurper.
As my career piled up, I gradually became the league's villain. Some even called me the root of Major League Baseball's boredom—they really said that—and wished for my downfall.
But reality wasn't a fairy tale. Unlike their hopes, I, the final boss of the Evil Empire, never crumbled. Sure, my stats dipped with age, but right up to retirement, I was All-Star level, and my team was always in the pennant race.
Park Gwangho, who spouts outdated mental game nonsense about never losing to me, has no idea. Right now, I'm disguised as a high school grad rookie, but I've ruled the world's highest stage for over a decade.
Even if he knew, could he still boldly claim he'd beat me like this? A trivial curiosity crossed my mind.
During the inning change, Park Gwangho gritted his teeth as Jin Yuha brushed past him.
'Damn...'
Bottom of the first.
Jin Yuha on the mound showed no change in expression. Not when he struck out the side, not when he set them down in order—it was always the same face. One corner of his mouth lifted, like he was looking down on them.
"I want to shatter that arrogant face."
His junior and catcher, Gu Dohwan, shook his head at Park Gwangho's words.
"Sigh... Do whatever you want."
Gu Dohwan, once a fan of Jin Yusung, knew that expression was the one his father naturally wore when locked in. Pitchers who didn't ride the emotional rollercoaster on the mound deserved praise, not hate.
But he didn't bother saying that to Park Gwangho.
'That's how the guy pitches his best.'
Fans—especially Carvers fans—thought Park Gwangho was truly desperate for baseball. His slightly aggrieved-looking face helped, and his team played gritty ball. But the Carvers players knew better than anyone how far that was from the truth.
'Number one overall pick, Rookie of the Year, good family background... Has a guy like that ever really been desperate?'
Yeah. Park Gwangho's "earnestness" was just fashion earnestness.
Still, the Carvers players didn't rag on him for channeling hostility at opponents while preaching it. They knew it was his way of firing himself up.
'Turning the other guy into the villain to stoke your own fire... Old school has its limits.'
Though now, it seemed half like he'd brainwashed himself into believing it.
"Hoo... Then let's show Jin Yuha the miracle earnestness brings."
"Yeah! I knew I could count on you!"
Gu Dohwan hid his cringing hand and did his best to boost his ridiculous senior. Personality aside, Park Gwangho was the Carvers' ace.
'Catching is seriously tough...'
Top of the second began.
Titans' cleanup hitter and Gu Dohwan's role model, Park Cheongwon, strode to the plate with a stern face.
"Hey."
"Yes, sunbae."
"What the hell is that punk?"
"...Pardon?"
The easygoing guy who usually joked in the box was gone; today's Park Cheongwon was razor-sharp.
'Ah.'
Gu Dohwan thought he knew why.
"Fuck, got nothing better to do than mess with a kid?"
"W-Well..."
"I know he talks shit before starts, but he shouldn't have crossed the line."
"..."
Park Gwangho's motivation style was bound to piss off the other side.
'Haha, seriously...'
Gu Dohwan cursed his high school self for falling for the lie about catchers making bank.
- "Yuha. Don't take it too hard. Hyung'll crush that jerk for you."
Park Cheongwon sunbae said that as he headed to the plate.
"Hm... Seems like you're angrier than the guy who got sniped."
Is this what it feels like to be the beloved maknae? It was oddly heartwarming. But still.
"Just don't let it mess up your at-bat focus."
I worried he'd get swept up in rage and blow it. But.
Shwooo!
A changeup dropping perfectly off the strike zone.
"Whoa."
With bat control so impressive it drew a gasp.
Crack!!
Park Cheongwon sunbae smoked it dead center on the sweet spot, and only then did I realize I'd worried about the wrong guy.
'Who was I worrying about?'
Last season's Titans' lone Golden Glove winner and national team catcher Park Cheongwon. He wasn't me-level, but a veteran among veterans.
Whirrr!
Park Cheongwon sunbae, casually holding his bat to admire the flight, flipped it one-handed. A flashy arc in the air.
'So this is authentic bat flip.'
America invented baseball, but Korea invented the bat flip. It was the kind of perfect flip that made that saying pop into my head.
'Wanna learn that...'
I meant it.
"Oh..."
Park Gwangho's still got chops as a pitcher. Gave up a homer to the leadoff guy but settled in, retiring the next three on outs to end the inning. Of course.
"Raaargh!!"
He'd already given up runs, and roaring after the final out thanks to infield wizardry was kinda funny.
'Motivation really matters.'
I mock mentalism as old-school junk, but I don't dismiss mentality—especially motivation—for athletes. We're human, not machines.
It's famous that the greatest basketball player ever, the shoe guy, was borderline psycho. Rumor has it he turned normal opponents into villains to fuel his hate. Rings a bell, huh?
'Park Gwangho's probably the same.'
I figured his rage at me as the villain fit that mold. Proper motivation sharpens focus.
'Not that I get it.'
Just seems exhausting.
"Hmm..."
Tap tap.
Park Cheongwon sunbae, hero of the early lead, tapped the pitchcom.
'Here we go.'
This game, I had a pitch count limit. So sunbae and I planned a different mound approach than game one.
Nod.
I nodded and went into windup.
Shwooo!
By the way, I'm good at baseball. Better than most in nearly every facet.
Pitching too. Intimidating guys with 160km+ heat is fun, but.
"Ngh."
Locating is my jam.
Tick.
The two-seamer tailing into the righty's body jammed the batter's swing for a dull thud.
Roll roll.
I snagged the roller in front.
Toss.
Straight to first baseman Kang Gihoo sunbae.
One out.
Shwooo!
A short cutter breaking into the lefty's ribs.
Snap!
Bat splintered; ball trickled down the line.
Scoop.
Kang Gihoo sunbae fielded quick and tagged the runner.
Two out.
Shwooo!
Another two-seamer.
Thwack!
Grounder to shortstop.
Shwooo!
Third baseman Yoon Gangyeol sunbae fired hard, mindful of speed.
Plop!
Dead into Kang Gihoo sunbae's mitt at first. Three out.
Inning over.
Three pitches to end the bottom of the second.
'Pitch count limit? Then just throw fewer.'
Today's pitching concept.
In the booth, announcer Kang Dongho recalled his pregame call with his senior.
'No wonder that old timer was all praise.'
When he said he'd call Jin Yuha's start, Kim Chungsik had said, "Should be fun. That kid's a show."
And Jin Yuha's pitching really was.
And then.
Kang Dongho, a 20-year one-club man with the Titans, loved them despite the infamous longest Korean Series drought.
His mouth twitched anyway.
Crack!!
The pace was blistering.
Carvers starter Park Gwangho occasionally got tagged but stuffed the Titans' hot bats from yesterday.
"Raaargh!!"
"Uratcha!"
His weird roars on outs were odd, but solid pitching.
And Jin Yuha.
Tick!
Gave up hits now and then but induced grounders galore to zip through innings.
Post-seventh, the scoreboard read:
Busan Titans 3 : 0 Ulsan Carvers
A shared anticipation lit up everyone's eyes watching the game.