Ace Starters Always Dream of Being the Ace
Ace starting pitchers always dreamed of becoming the ace. The more confident they were in their skills, the more fiercely they chased it. But naturally, there could only be one ace spot per team.
Eric Sanchez, the Guardians' third-year import. James Gilbert, the Titans' first-year import.
Both pitchers often heard talk of being "another ace" or "the second No. 1 starter," but they couldn't deny that they'd ultimately been overshadowed by Shim Chando and Jin Yuha.
"Chando's basically my goal as a pitcher. I'm content with where I am right now."
"Yuha... After watching that kid's talent up close, how could I even covet the No. 1 spot? I just hope he becomes the Mets' ace someday."
The two accepted their place in the ace race more coolly than expected. Their teams' true aces were just that dominant, and neither Sanchez nor Gilbert had a bad personality. But still.
"Ha... The first game's barely started, and everyone's already fixated on Game 2."
"I get it, but... honestly, it's pissing me off."
Either way, both were still starting pitchers. With their sky-high egos, they couldn't stand the current vibe. And so.
"I can get a little greedy today, right? I'm the Game 1 starter, after all."
"The Guardians... the perfect final opponent before heading to the big leagues. Time to show 'em."
The Guardians' and Titans' "second aces" resolved to become the real deal—at least for Game 1.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The Korean Series Game 1 was underway.
My start was tomorrow. Today, I couldn't influence the game at all.
...Someone was saying I should pitch out of the pen to affect every game.
That was a bit much.
'Ridiculous.'
Better to.
'Prepare something else.'
I actually had prepared. Though I wouldn't use it in today's game.
Thwack!!
"Strike!"
Top of the first.
Eric Sanchez's four-seamer razor-sharp grazed the top corner of the strike zone.
"Perfect."
The Guardians starters' fearsomeness wasn't just their pinpoint control.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
Maybe thanks to Shim Chando's influence, most Guardians pitchers excelled at pitch counts.
Crack!!
"Out!"
Like Sanchez targeting high and low in the zone before suddenly jamming inside for a groundout.
Something's off today.
The opposing starter looked in prime form.
"Whew..."
But it was fine.
"Today, I'm the ace, Yuha."
Our starter was in top shape too.
Crack!!
"Out!"
. . .
Whoooosh!!
"Swinging strike three!"
. . .
James Gilbert gave it everything. No one could criticize a 7-inning shutout. But.
Craaaack!!
"Tch."
His gem ended up meaningless.
Bottom of the 9th.
Titans closer Jo Yongjin-sunbae hung his head.
Whoosh.
A fly ball the Titans' vaunted defense couldn't snag—one that cleared the wall. Meaning.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
We'd lost Game 1.
"It's fine. I'm not this team's ace, after all."
James Gilbert, watching the walk-off homer from the dugout, shrugged as he said it.
"Weren't you just calling yourself the ace earlier?"
"What, you gonna hand me the ace spot?"
Hmm.
"No way."
No. 1 starter. Ace. I'd never yielded that seat to anyone.
The Korean Series Game 1 ended with a Guardians win. Pundits praised the defending champs for their rock-solid showing.
The Titans squandered a bases-loaded chance in the top of the 8th with a double play. The Guardians pounced on a shaky closer, waiting for mistakes and slamming the door.
The experience gap in big games was glaring. But.
"We lost Game 1? Whatever. Win Game 2 and we're good."
Titans fans' morale didn't dip a bit despite the shocking walk-off.
"Yuha's starting Game 2 anyway. No way we lose."
Game 2 starter for the Titans? Jin Yuha. As I'd said before, to Titans fans, Yuha meant victory.
"Whoa... Busan fans are nuts? Our starter's Shim Chando?"
Guardians fans, though? Absurd. "Guardians win whenever Shim Chando pitches in the postseason." Never broken.
"Dragons fan here, but Shim Chando takes it."
"Not just 'cause you're salty about Yuha? Captain Song said Yuha's the best pitcher right now."
Western League ace, Shim Chando. Eastern League ace, Jin Yuha. Who's truly better?
The debate spilled beyond teams into an inter-league pride clash. Common since the two-league split.
"Why the hell are they rooting for the pitchers who wrecked 'em? Stockholm syndrome?"
Someone's cynical jab turned communities into chaos, but it fell on deaf ears as fans awaited Game 2.
Series score: 1-0, Guardians lead. It didn't faze Shim Chando much.
"Finally..."
Not just because he'd fixated on this Yuha matchup.
If I lose today, the score means nothing.
A loss here would flip the series momentum. That's what ace duels were.
"Sunbae. Feeling good?"
"Yeah."
Right before first pitch. Shim Chando's battery mate, Kim Beomjun, asked cautiously. The online war probably bugging him.
Who’s the best... gets settled today.
Shim Chando couldn't touch Yuha's 160 km/h velocity. Never posted a sub-1.00 ERA. No 300-K season with double-digit complete games.
But that doesn't make me inferior.
Shim Chando had never lost the league's top pitcher title since debut. Always the national team ace. Undefeated in playoffs.
I trust my resume.
Yuha, the rookie, lacked that career. Shim Chando had it.
I'm still the top ace.
He was ready to prove it.
"Ha... frustrating. Thought that pitch was super hittable."
Top of the first.
Jeong Suyeong-sunbae, who'd grounded out to short on Shim Chando's first pitch, clicked his tongue.
"Looked easy, but it was a chase pitch. Outside the zone."
"Really? Felt off the bat sweet spot."
Shim Chando lived up to the hype.
Even Jeong Suyeong-sunbae, who'd hit .300 in the regular season.
Crack!!
"Out!"
"Damn... can't that clear the infield?"
Even Kang Gihoo-sunbae, the league's undisputed top hitter this year.
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
"What?!"
Frank Rodriguez, the steady lineup anchor after Gihoo, went down just as easy.
"Inning over in the blink of an eye?"
Baek Jihun-sunbae beside me nailed it—the top of the first vanished.
"You're not tense at all, sunbae? Shim Chando's dealing."
His brimming confidence piqued my curiosity.
"Huh? Why would I be? Shim Chando's one of the guys who boosted my average."
"Oh yeah. You own him especially."
One of the KBO's great mysteries, I recalled.
"Question for you, though. Yuha, you not nervous?"
Huh?
"Everyone's losing it over who's better. Gotta be tense from your side."
Ah.
"That..."
Not really.
"Nah, not tense."
Because.
"Answer's obvious. Pointless debate."
Such arguments.
How dare they compare those two?
Just annoyed me.
"Yuha... you pissed?"
"Kinda?"
"Uh... bad timing, but now I feel bad for the Guardians hitters."
Yeah, exactly.