Practice Game (2)
Bottom of the first. Despite my dominant pitching, the Titans' lineup didn't manage to scratch across a run. Not that it was because I pitched so well—their bats just weren't sharp enough to crack the Dodgers' mound.
The gap between last year's Major League champions and the KBO's last-place team was bigger than I'd imagined. Even so.
"…I didn't expect it to be this bad."
Tick!
"Out!"
The ball off third baseman Yoon Gangyeol sunbae's aggressive swing popped up high. The Dodgers' second baseman snagged it right there in the infield without it leaving the dirt. He'd gone after the first pitch, and that was the result.
Yoon Gangyeol sunbae was the team's cleanup hitter. And with his at-bat, the inning flipped.
"Three up, three down… Same as the opponents."
The Titans had gone down 1-2-3 just like the Dodgers. But.
"…Not exactly the same."
As Park Cheongwon sunbae said, returning to the dugout after some dry swings in the on-deck circle, not all three-up-three-downs were created equal. I'd needed nine pitches to finish the top of the first, but they'd wrapped theirs in just three.
It was over in the blink of an eye. How quick? Well.
—"Why'd you go with a backdoor sweeper as the putaway pitch to the leadoff guy?"
Park Cheongwon sunbae, starting as the DH today but likely my main battery mate during the season, had lobbed the question my way.
—"Well, see, the reason was… Huh?"
The inning ended before I could even answer.
"What… A perfect inning's gotta hit harder than a three-pitch one, right?"
I wasn't sure if that was true, but it was the line I used to console the hitters for now.
"Haha… Thanks, and sorry, Yuha."
"No biggie. Time to head back out."
I'd barely sat on the dugout bench before it was time to return to the mound.
Top of the second.
In a pitcher-hitter matchup for the first time, the edge overwhelmingly goes to the pitcher. Plenty of players say it, and having run the bases as both, I agree.
'The pitcher decides how to attack.'
That's why I'd thrown a backdoor sweeper to the Dodgers' leadoff hitter—me and Jeong Hanseong.
The opponents had no intel on me. Specifically, they didn't know I had the command to nip the zone or the guts to throw a sweeper to a same-side batter.
After all, I was still a rookie who hadn't debuted in the pros. Not some American amateur standout, either—I'd played high school ball in Korea. Active Major Leaguers probably hadn't paid me much mind.
'Or maybe they had.'
I was Jin Yusung's son, and the scouts had hyped me up nonstop. But.
That interest wouldn't extend to digging up my high school game footage. MLB guys don't have that kind of free time.
'…Or do they? That one guy might've checked out Korean high school baseball.'
Maybe one obsessive type existed. But those were rare outliers.
Anyway.
Whoosh!!
The advantage of facing an unknown arm held strong into the top of the second.
Thwack!!
"Strike!"
And that was enough for me.
Tick!
"Foul!"
To cook the Dodgers' lineup.
'Heh… Got flustered 'cause my stuff's better than he thought.'
Plus, they didn't know me, but I knew them. It was an insanely lopsided fight from the start.
The Dodgers' four-hole, Eduardo. A slugger who loved hunting low pitches with his signature uppercut swing. He'd later cash in big with a different team—not the Dodgers—but stay a perennial All-Star.
Against that Eduardo, I pounded the low zone. He watched the first pitch for some reason, but on the second, his bat came out as expected. Foul ball.
He had to be pretty rattled. He'd swung at his favorite spot, but the result wasn't what he'd hoped.
Whoosh!!
Was their battery insane? They called for the same low zone again. A Major League masher full of pride like Eduardo would swing, of course.
Vrooom!!
Just like now. His bat slashed out like it would split the ball in two. But.
"…Urk!"
The pitch arrived slower than expected, dropping out of the zone just before home plate.
"Swinging strike three!"
Changeup.
"Whew… What a pitcher, huh?"
Dodgers starter Andrew whistled as he watched Jin Yuha on the mound.
"Jack Gordon's nephew, alright."
Jin Yuha up there reminded him of one guy who'd once ruled the Citi Field mound. Hair and skin were different, but.
"Eyes are dead ringers, though. Isn't it rare for an East Asian mix to be born with blue eyes?"
Truth be told, Andrew had been intrigued by Jin Yuha for a while. His family was insanely famous, and Yuha was said to have inherited both parents' talents.
Of course, he hadn't gone digging for Korean high school highlights himself. He'd just skim articles or community posts that popped up now and then—mostly Mets fan sites.
Seeing the real deal after only reading about him?
"This guy's… kinda alien."
No tension facing a powerhouse like the Dodgers.
Thwack!!
"Strike!"
Aggressively attacking the zone even against their heavy lumber.
Crack!!
"Foul!"
Even when a screamer hooked just foul by the pole, total poise.
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
Coming right back at the foul homer spot to snag the K.
"How's this guy a rookie?"
He didn't pitch like one at all.
"All his off-speed stuff is top-shelf, too."
Thwack!!
A sweeper that scraped the plate before darting out. The batter flailed awkwardly, and the weak contact died in the infield.
Thud.
The shortstop scooped it cleanly.
Whoosh!!
Fired to first.
"Out!"
Last out of the inning.
"Did this kid get raised on baseball for homework?"
Jin Yuha might've taken that as a pad lip if he heard, but Andrew meant it. Son of Jin Yusung, nephew of Gordon—made sense. Anything less, and his skill level defied logic.
Top of the second. Dodgers still hadn't touched first base.
"Ha! See? My masterpiece is flawless!"
Titans interim pitching coach Jack Gordon snorted, demanding confirmation.
"…"
Pitching coach Kim Pilsun couldn't reply right away.
'Was Jin Yuha always this good?'
He was honestly rattled.
'Dodgers lineup weaker than expected? Or did Gordon beg them to go easy…'
Kim Pilsun shook his head hard.
'No way.'
Pure delusion. He wasn't about to look even more foolish.
"Ahem, he's doing better than I thought."
They'd bet on Yuha's practice game line, but deep down, Kim wanted him to shine. Yuha was the Titans' best pitching prospect in ages, and Kim was their coach. Sure, emotions had flared for a bit, but he was known in baseball circles as a man of character. Still.
"…Innings left, though."
He couldn't help a tiny wish for some Yuha struggles. To humble the cocky foreigner. To mold that prime talent with his own hands.
—"As if."
If Gordon knew, he'd scoff it off.
"Wanna head home early? Inning's already over?"
Of course, no mind-reading. Gordon just cursed the Titans' lineup for wrapping the bottom of the second in five pitches.
Two innings down, 24 pitches thrown. My pitching was efficient today. But.
"They got six outs on eight pitches…"
Theirs was beyond efficient—downright fraudulent.
"Tch."
Truthfully, it wasn't them being efficient; our bats were just way too aggressive.
"Aggressive hitting isn't bad, but…"
Nothing to be done. I was the pitcher now. So.
'Gotta trust the lineup…'
Of course, that meant first.
Pat-pat.
Holding the mound scoreless.
'First-pitch sweeper? Okay.'
Whoosh!!
I nodded and fired the first pitch of the third.
Top of the third. First baserunner allowed.
"Tch."
I'm human; mistakes happen. And even the bottom of the order from last year's MLB champs didn't miss a fat one. Luckily, I got a changeup double play from the next guy to escape unscathed.
38 pitches through now. Limit was 60 today.
'Can I squeak to the fifth?'
Just a scrimmage, but starters always itch to qualify for the W. Failing that, at least hand off with the lead. Of course.
'Not easy…'
But our lineup looked primed. I couldn't afford to give up runs. I figured it was doable—my stuff felt sharp, and they weren't at full strength yet.
And while I held the line, our bats needed to produce. Two innings of getting toyed with by their pitcher? Tough ask, but I had faith.
'Not impossible.'
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
No. 7 hitter Baek Jihun sunbae went down swinging after an eight-pitch battle. Forcing me to throw to six guys? Impressive in its own way. But.
'Finally…'
My faith wasn't in Baek Jihun sunbae.
"Hoo… Hoo… I can do it!"
Not in the tense Jeong Hanseong yelling "I can do it!" either. The catcher's job was just receiving my pitches.
Vrooom!!
The whoosh on every practice swing.
Vrooom!!
One player finished his cuts and strode to the plate.
Not my height, but towering. A massive frame armored in muscle like plate mail.
Had I mentioned it before? One Titans guy would later hit the majors and become one of the best.
'Kang Gihoo.'
MLB fans' nickname: KK. The Asian who followed "Meteor" as New York's king.
"Thanks for your work."
'King Kong' stepped in.