Goal (2)
Typically, a starting pitcher appears in around 30 games per season. No matter how monstrous Jin Yuha was, he couldn't escape this absolute truth.
Up to now, he'd made 21 starts. Despite being in the same Eastern League, the Seoul Wolves had never once faced him.
Compared to teams like the Pistols—who'd run into him with eerie frequency and suffered immensely as a result—they'd been ridiculously lucky. Especially since the Pistols were a Western League team.
But.
"…Why! Why now! Of all times, why do we have to face him?!"
The Wolves' luck had finally run out. They were up against Jin Yuha.
The Eastern League's nightmare, boasting a 0.44 ERA across those 21 games with 19 wins.
"…These guys went to extra innings, and they still had the nerve to send texts like this?"
The Wolves manager grumbled, but it was just karma catching up. He'd relentlessly teased all the other managers who'd been crushed by Jin Yuha.
"…And it's his shot at win number 20?"
It was infamous by now: Jin Yuha pitched like a god in games tied to milestones. He was already dominant, but records turned him into the deity of baseball.
Thanks to that, countless teams were immortalized in "Jin Yuha highlight reels."
"And we might be next?"
The odds were high that the Wolves would join the list of victims.
"…No, wait. He's looked a bit worn lately."
After venting for a while, the Wolves manager pulled himself together.
"Last game, one run. The one before, three runs in seven innings… He's not invincible."
In truth, he hadn't pulled himself together at all. No one would call a pitcher with those lines "worn."
"We're on a winning streak too, riding high… Maybe we're the team that hands him his first loss?"
Like every team facing Jin Yuha for the first time, the Wolves fell into the same delusion.
"We can do it! If anyone's gonna, it's us!"
We called that the happiness circuit.
The biggest thing on my mind lately was, of course…
"ERA management is brutal."
ERA. Earned Run Average.
"Not stressing the 20-win chase?"
"That's not something I can control."
Personally, I wasn't obsessed with wins. That old-school "pitcher wins = pitcher quality" crap was outdated.
'Those damn fools said I was 'just shy' of Cy Young with only 10 wins…'
It made me wanna bean one right in their smug heads.
"Sigh… You dragged up some annoying memories. Take responsibility."
"What?! What'd I even do?"
"Not knowing what you did wrong is what's wrong. Hanseong-ah."
Anyway. ERA was great because I could control it.
"So I wanna shave it down more if possible."
Then the guy who'd just spouted nonsense piped up.
"Easy fix: Pitch five innings and bounce."
Hmm.
"Nah, don't wanna."
"Why? More innings mean more runs, obviously."
True.
"I'm not as selfish as you."
"…What?"
"Bailing on games for personal stats? Disqualified as a player. Hanseong-ah."
"I was just giving advice!"
I didn't need that kind. Chasing stats like a scrub looks bad to me and the fans.
"No choice, then."
Only one thing left to do.
"Gotta pitch harder. Duh."
The Wolves arrived at Shin Sajik Baseball Stadium. The manager—and the players inspired by his optimism—buzzed with anticipation.
'We're the first to take down Jin Yuha!'
The Wolves manager deserved credit for boosting morale when it could've tanked. Sure, the roster was young overall, but that didn't diminish his skill.
Thud thud! Clap! Thud thud! Clap!
Even as home fans stomped and clapped to Jin Yuha's walk-up song, their fire didn't dim.
'Man… jealous.'
They just imagined what it felt like to be on a popular team. But.
"Play ball!"
Their momentum.
Tap tap.
Faded the moment the game started.
Whoosh!!
And Jin Yuha's first pitch flew in.
Crack!!
"Strike!"
-165 km/h
Happiness circuits always shatter against cold reality.
I took the ball from Jeong Hanseong and eyed the batter stepping up.
'Already deflated?'
The guy's face—brimming with confidence moments ago—had none left.
'Oh yeah, young roster.'
Not as raw as the rebuilding Titans, but the Wolves were pretty green. Team trait or whatever—not important.
Tap tap.
The key was young players got swept up in the vibe, good or bad.
- Four-seam
Jeong Hanseong knew it too, calling for another four-seam.
'Crush their spirit, huh?'
Liked the sign. I fired it.
Vrooom!!
This five-game winner's leadoff had a solid swing.
Crack!!
"Swinging strike!"
When it whiffs, the shock hits harder.
'Then…'
Tap tap.
- Four-seam
Four-seam to finish.
Crack!!
"Strike three!"
The Wolves leadoff couldn't even touch the last one. Fear of me finally dawned on his face.
Crack!!
"Strike!"
Every time Jin Yuha's pitch thudded in, sighs echoed from the Wolves dugout.
Crack!!
"Strike!"
Facing him live was a whole different beast from videos. The Wolves hitters couldn't imagine cracking a hit off him.
Vrooom!!
"Swinging strike three!"
Even throwing only four-seams.
"How is it?"
"Insane. So damn fast. Controls every corner like it's nothing. How do you even hit this?"
Of course, "only four-seams" didn't mean identical pitches.
High zone, low zone. Inside, outside.
No two four-seams took the same path. The Wolves felt like they'd been dropped into a VR baseball sim.
"His command's always been this precise? It's not like he's playing a video game solo…"
Jin Yuha's command flew under the radar. His other gifts were too overwhelming—no need to hype control when you're not quite at Sim Chando or Lauer's level.
But.
"Top-class control, just shy of elite?"
As the Wolves manager muttered, Jin Yuha's command crushed league average.
Crack!!
"Strike!"
His seventh pitch grazed the ABS edge.
"That's a strike?!"
"Who you asking?"
Even a batter raised on ABS era blurted it at the ump—that precise.
Whoosh!!
So they'd swing at anything near the zone. But.
Crack!!
"Strike!"
"…A ball there?"
This one missed. Jin Yuha loved attacking the zone, but he mixed in bait pitches.
'Batter's getting antsy? Perfect.'
Jin Yuha and Jeong Hanseong—the regressed vet in rookie skin and the catcher he molded—danced circles over the Wolves' heads.
Tap tap.
'Got the count with location… now…'
A sly grin flashed inside the catcher's mask as Jeong Hanseong tapped the PitchCom.
Snicker.
Jin Yuha smirked the same on the mound.
"…"
The batter bristled but stayed quiet.
-Three! Three! Three! Three!
Home fans chanted "strikeout" like the stadium might collapse, cowing him a bit.
'All fastballs so far. Underestimating us. Next one's fastball too, right?'
He wasn't that scared—he was an All-Star-level hitter.
Whoosh!!
He read the pitch right.
'Fastball!'
Vrooom!!
"…Slow?"
What he didn't account for: I'd started separating my fastballs lately.
Crack!!
"Swinging strike three!"
-147 km/h
The pitch—arriving a hair later than his 160 km/h swing expected—was my new weapon: the slow four-seam.
Nine pitches! Three strikeouts! Jin Yuha proves why he's the league's top ace—in just one inning! His third clean sheet this season!
For the Wolves, a nightmare result. Even a scoreless inning would've stung…
Every pitch this frame? Pure four-seam.
Though to Bang Yunseong, that last one might as well have been a changeup. Over 10 km/h off his average velo.
Jin Yuha, evolving deeper into the season.
Developing… or just unveiling hidden cards? Who knows.
"Didn't even need us out there that inning."
Baek Jihun hyung said as we returned to the dugout.
"Shouldn't you not say that? Jihun, you're only here for defense anyway."
Jeong Suyeong hyung predictably nitpicked.
"What? My average's up this year!"
"Point-two-four? Barely scraping .240. Nothing to brag about."
"Urk…! And how's yours?!"
"Don't 'you' me. How many times I gotta say I'm your hyung? And I hit .300."
"You little—!"
"Says the scrub who can't even match me."
I tuned out their banter, sat on the bench, and scanned the Wolves players.
'Momentum crushed for sure…'
Now, how to handle these kids next.