Desperation (4)
It was my best condition yet. My four-seam fastball consistently topped 150 km/h, and my command was spot-on, right where I wanted it. My main weapons, the slider and changeup, were sharper than usual too.
Thanks to that, I pitched seven innings. And that wasn't all—with my pitch count, a complete game even seemed possible.
Of course, I'd given up three home runs. But all three were solo shots.
In score terms, that was just three runs. Seven innings, three earned.
What they call a quality start plus. More than enough to pick up the win, I figured.
But then.
'Why the hell are we losing?'
Park Gwangho couldn't wrap his head around the situation.
Bottom of the seventh.
Gu Dohwan's grounder was snagged by the Titans' second baseman with fluid grace, then fired quickly to first.
"Out!"
The final out of the inning was recorded, and the pitcher on the mound clapped at the sight. That pitcher was Jin Yuha—the very one Park Gwangho had boldly declared he'd crush.
But the result? By the end of the seventh, Jin Yuha had thrown only about 60 pitches. And he hadn't allowed a single run.
I knew he was good, of course. After his debut complete-game shutout, the whole world had been chanting his name. But I hadn't expected this good.
Just like in the first, as Jin Yuha stepped off the mound, his eyes met Park Gwangho's.
'Ah.'
This time, unlike before, Park Gwangho looked away.
'Am I... scared of him?'
Park Gwangho was now afraid to meet those piercing blue eyes.
'Hmm... has he broken?'
Park Gwangho's fire was noticeably dimmed. No surprise there.
'He's pitching well himself, but the opponent's outdoing him.'
Still.
'Kinda disappointing.'
For a guy who'd gone on about desperation and sworn to beat me, crumbling this fast felt off.
'Tch.'
It was a shame. I could sense the pitchers' duel with Park Gwangho was over just like that.
'A scared pitcher's no longer the hunter—he's the prey.'
And then.
Crack!!
"Ball."
Consecutive baserunners right from the start of the inning. Carvers' catcher Gu Dohwan came to the mound to calm Park Gwangho down, but.
It didn't seem to help much. Even Hwang Doyang, with his career .210 average, laced a hit and scored runs.
In the end, Park Gwangho got pulled in the eighth without recording a single out.
"Hmm... Yuha?"
As I watched Park Gwangho trudge back to the Carvers' dugout with his head down, Manager Jeong Hyeonho sidled up to me slyly.
"No."
I could guess what he was about to say, so I cut him off.
"Haha, figured as much?"
The manager scratched his head at my quick reply.
"You've still got 20 pitches left." "Yeah. Pulling you now after two straight complete-game bids? I'd get flak for that."
Objectively, the game was already ours. I didn't need to throw more.
So.
"Can't yank a guy chasing back-to-back complete games on the second outing."
Unless it wasn't on the verge of being a Maddux game. And even then.
"Especially when it's shaping up to be a Maddux. Makes it tougher." "Still, speak up if anything feels off. Records mean nothing compared to your health."
"Got it."
I scanned the Titans' bullpen. Not a single pitcher warming up.
"Should be fine, though. Tell the bullpen guys they can chill today too."
"Oh Seon said something about you turning them into benchwarmers. Joking you'd go complete game every start at this rate."
"Haha, no way."
I said that, but deep down I wondered, 'Could I?'
'Nah... impossible.'
Even as the world's best, impossible was impossible. But.
"This game? Yeah, doable."
The long top of the eighth finally ended.
To keep my feel, I'd been playing catch with dugout cheerleader Jeong Hanseong. Now, with run support up to eight, I took the mound.
'No need to nibble now...'
At this point, the unofficial 80-pitch limit was shattered. Still.
'Stick to the plan.'
I decided to maintain my pitching concept to the end. Simple reason.
'It's more fun that way.'
Tap tap.
Senior Park Cheongwon's sign came through my earpiece.
'Man... he knows exactly what I want.'
And the guy had Gold Glove hitting plus elite durability.
'Hanseong, good luck with that. Tough road to starting catcher.'
Whoosh!!
First pitch: the two-seamer that had induced tons of grounders today.
Bzzz!!
The Carvers' lineup had feasted on it all game, but would they swing freely now? Nah.
'No chance.'
Like all my pitches, the two-seamer was tough to identify until it neared the plate. Plus.
Even if they spotted it, a strike's a strike—you gotta swing. Hitters live by the bat.
Thwack!!
A weak grounder trickled toward short.
– "Feels like fungo today?"
Senior Baek Jihun, who'd said that during cleaning time, lived up to his top-tier defense rep with a clean play.
"Out!"
Easy out.
Crack!!
But even the best shortstop can't field everything. The next hitter's ball was one of those.
'Close.'
Missed the sweet spot, but that turned it into a lucky blooper hit.
I didn't sweat it.
'Price of attacking the zone.'
Unlike clean strikeouts, grounders involve variables: bad hops, errors, bad bounces. But.
'Good command, groundball changeups, solid D, and a dash of luck...'
Nothin' more efficient than attacking the zone.
Thwack!!
Like now.
Whoosh!!
Senior Yoon Gangyeol snared a third-base grounder and fired to second.
Thwack!!
Senior Hwang Doyang was waiting at second. He glove-snagged and.
Whoosh!!
Rifled to first.
"Safe!"
A bit high, but Senior Kang Gihoo's stretch hauled it in.
"Out!"
"Umpire! Review! Review!"
The speedy runner made it close, so Carvers called for video review right away. But.
"...Out!"
No reversal. Inning over.
"Ah..."
Carvers trudged to their dugout, sighing. Ninth still loomed, but everyone knew it was done.
No upsets. I nailed back-to-back complete shutouts.
'Kinda anticlimactic...'
If Park Gwangho hadn't crumbled mentally late, it could've been a better duel. The shock hit him harder than I thought.
'Didn't expect tears, though.'
A bit pitiful. Of course.
I didn't let it slide. TB-ing's the winner's prerogative.
My heart wasn't big enough to spare him just for some tears. Besides.
'All helpful advice for him.'
My interview words were genuine tips for Park Gwangho. I truly believe pitchers need fight and confidence over desperation mid-game.
Aces live with "I'm the best" or "Everyone else sucks." Otherwise, you can't shoulder a whole game's weight alone.
'Park Gwangho probably thought he was the best deep down.'
Otherwise, his quick mental collapse when I edged him on the mound doesn't add up. For someone so "desperate," he waved the white flag awfully fast.
'Whatever, not my problem.'
I didn't dwell. As the victor, I just basked in the glory.
Whether Park Gwangho wiped his tears and learned true desperation, shattered mentally from the loss, or awakened into a national ace beyond his team—none of it concerned me.
"Phew... Busan really is close. Good thing you're a Titan."
Yeah, that's what I thought.
"P-Park... Gwangho sunbaenim?" "Call me hyung. Jin Yuha."
Monday. Post-start fatigue plus off-day had me sleeping in, then hitting the cafe near home. Until I ran into Park Gwangho there.
"What the hell are you doing here?" "Didn't you say desperation's found off the field?" "Uh... yeah." "So I came. I'm desperate."
He casually handed me a coffee—how'd he know my order?—and asked.
"How the hell do I pitch like you?"
Carvers ace Park Gwangho was crazier than I'd imagined.