9. ROCK
Q. The opening game starter has been set as Jin Yuha. That's an unexpected choice, isn't it?
A. Is it?
Q. Didn't you only use him out of the bullpen during spring training?
A. I never said he'd be used only from the bullpen in the regular season.
Q. Was there no discontent from Baek Jeongsu, who was the established domestic ace?
A. Our team gets along great (laughs). Baek Jeongsu himself fervently supported Jin Yuha's start.
Q. Do you think rookie Jin Yuha will pitch well?
A. Jin Yuha isn't just any rookie.
Q. We'll look forward to Jin Yuha's performance. Is he also scheduled for Sunday's game?
A. Maybe, maybe not. He's a rookie. We'll handle our top talent with the utmost care.
Q. Jin Yuha, a rookie making his KBO debut as the opening game starter—a heavy responsibility. Wasn't he nervous at all?
A. Hm... He said he got a good night's sleep.
I woke up after a solid night's sleep.
Glancing at the clock, it was 10 a.m. Felt refreshed.
After a shower, I savored a cup of coffee at my leisure.
The Titans had shown me—a prospect dubbed once-in-a-generation—a lot of consideration. While rookies usually bunked in the clubhouse, they'd even arranged separate lodging for me as part of that.
According to intel from my spy—Jeong Hanseong, obviously—some veterans were trash-talking me. Saying a rookie was disrupting team harmony. In short:
'He's too cocky.'
If it bugs them, they should just play better baseball. From what I'd heard, most of the complainers were guys who couldn't even crack the majors on rebuilding teams.
'Well... if I flop, the backlash will hit hard.'
But that wouldn't happen, so no issue.
Back in my previous life, during my hypersensitive days—when I was the lone log carrier on a weak team—I was a walking jinx. I was more familiar with losses than wins. Obviously, it wasn't my fault; the team sucked.
As defeats piled up, so did the jinxes. Eventually, even the direction I got out of bed in the morning became one.
'Not that any jinx ever ruined a start for me.'
It just tanked my mood. My skill was too immense to crumble over mere superstitions.
Anyway, these days, I had no jinxes.
Not because of the whole regression thing. Just accumulated career wisdom: jinxes are meaningless bullshit.
'You might say that's what a jinx is.'
Whatever. It's my world; I make the rules.
I grabbed the keys to the sports car I'd bought with my signing bonus. Time to head in.
Starters have unique pre-game routines. Some skip bullpen entirely.
I avoid eating on start days. Only coffee and a banana pass my lips.
Training follows a rigid routine too: elastic bands to loosen up, med ball throws, and so on.
"Conditioning good? You look solid."
Baek Jeongsu hyung approached me mid-routine in the bullpen. He'd admitted the "domestic ace" label weighed on him, so he was extra kind to me—the guy likely taking that spot.
'Uncle pulled some strings too.'
He'd always thrown a sweeper, but Uncle Jack had helped refine it further this spring camp.
"Slept like a rock."
So deep, no dreams.
"Not nervous?"
Baek Jeongsu hyung tossed a pointless question my way. I knew it came from concern, so I flashed a bright grin.
"I'm pumped."
True story.
I headed to the video room with Park Cheongwon hyung, today's battery mate. Opponents: Daegu Warriors, third in the East last year.
"The team we lost to on the final day last season, dropping us to third. They're out for revenge."
According to Park Cheongwon hyung—the veteran rep with insider vibes.
"Got it."
Didn't faze me.
"Damn, this kid's ice cold."
He marveled at my nonchalance.
"Rookie debuting today, zero nerves. Hyung, you're growing on me big time."
"Thanks."
We reviewed the scouting report on the Warriors' lineup.
"Watch out for Baek Sangyeon most. Usually bats second, no weaknesses. Korea's top 5-tool player."
Lockdown national team outfielder. I remembered him.
'Went to the bigs. Nothing special there.'
In my era, Kang Gihoo aside, no KBO hitter lit up MLB.
"Don't sleep on foreign slugger Edmund either. Key to Warriors' title push last year."
Power bat fitting their small park. Hit 50 homers last season. But guys like him? Easiest prey for me.
'Strikeout machine.'
With that, we'd sized up their order.
"With your arsenal, mixing pitches is tricky."
We mapped the overall game plan.
"I'll throw whatever you call, hyung."
Good rookie pitcher listens to his catcher.
"For real? Rumors say otherwise."
True.
"Hm..."
After some deliberation, Park Cheongwon hyung nodded.
"Alright, got it."
"Fastballs heavy to start..."
"My fastball, I'd rather not unless..."
"Finisher depends on the hitter..."
"Obviously. Oh, but for mine..."
"No kidding? Then..."
He patted my shoulder with a grin as we wrapped up.
"Let's crush it."
"Yes, sir."
Hm. Liked this catcher.
Right before game time, non-starters gathered.
"Hanseong said you do high-fives as your final ritual?"
Jeong Hanseong, shrimping among the vets, shyly thumbs-upped me.
"Oh. Thanks."
Clap!
"Show 'em."
Clap!
"I believe in you. Baby ace is a god."
High-fived the kind seniors easing a high school rookie's nerves.
Clap.
"Tch... Wait for it. I'll catch your stuff soon."
I brushed past Jeong Hanseong's whiny lament.
Thump thump! Clap!
The iconic beat from that old rock band's hit blasted through the packed Shin Sajik Stadium.
Early in my career, when kid-me got smoked by the Mets' MVP—and their ace cracked up watching—he said:
"Any elite pitcher needs a rock band walk-up!"
Never changed it since. Also pissed someone off once.
Thump thump! Clap!
The song's signature claps synced perfectly with high-fives. Felt good.
"Yuha, your easy mode's over."
Manager Jeong Hyeonho slapped my ass as I ignored him and climbed the mound amid:
- WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
I wanted to play baseball easy. That's why Korea.
But never half-ass it. I loved this game enough for a second life chasing it.
And I hate losing. As someone said, games are for winning. So I'd flip this league upside down. Like my walk-up lyrics always promised.
"Acting like the damn hero."
Warriors leadoff Lee Hyunwoo griped, eyeing my warm-ups. This high school rookie debuting—no tension in Titans' park that vets dreaded.
Lee Hyunwoo hated it.
"Tch. Hasn't tasted failure yet. Right, rook?"
Warriors' first-round pick—my classmate, infield senior, Daegu High alum—Yi Hyung reflexively agreed.
"Yessir!"
Sunbae speech was instinct for rook Yi Hyung.
"Ease up. I'm not bullying you."
Lee Hyunwoo felt burdened anyway.
"Anyway, our rook knows that guy best? Classmates and all."
Lee Hyunwoo quizzed Yi Hyung—the Warrior most clued in on me. Leadoff needed every scrap on the pitcher.
"...Scary dude."
Yi Hyung unusually hesitated, face grim.
"Lots of our class quit baseball over Yuha."
"Huh? Jin Yusung's kid a thug or what?"
"No."
Yi Hyung swallowed hard.
"...Facing him just breeds doubt."
"What?"
"That's all I got. Sorry I can't help more."
"No need to apo—whatever."
- Play ball!
Lee Hyunwoo headed to the plate, scheming.
'Grind him early, see some pitches.'
Stick to basics. After dealing with the old-timer first.
"Hurry up. Hyung's knees ache with age."
"Ah... Coming. Knees my ass—you Gold Gloved last year."
Park Cheongwon smirked at Lee Hyunwoo's plate hug. Obvious ploy.
"Think that'll rattle Yuha? Chill out."
"Me, scheming? No need against that showboat."
"Yeah, right."
Park Cheongwon recalled Jeong Hanseong's pre-game visit.
'First pitch straight fastball, guaranteed.'
Hanseong had spilled on me all wistful, like an ex. Funny, but Park listened—catchers ease pitchers.
Tap tap.
PitchCom sign sent.
Nod.
Jin Yuha nodded, smirking one-sided.
"Hyunwoo. You know Yuha hits 160?"
Park Cheongwon warned, mitt out.
"Ha. Control that shaky, huh?"
Lee Hyunwoo sniped; Park ignored.
Shwoooosh!!
Thwack!!
Yeah.
"...Hngh!"
Lightning four-seam jammed top inside to the lefty. Lee Hyunwoo froze, grunting.
"Strike!"
Looked like it'd hit him. But ABS called strike—Jin Yuha's signature tailing fastball.
And:
Way faster than Lee Hyunwoo figured.
Jin Yuha shattered his own Korean velocity record—official this time.
- WAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
Shin Sajik shook from the jump.