Confessions of a Batter
To be honest about my qualifications, I wasn't a hitter like my father. That was only natural.
The man who turned that monster-packed era into the "Jin Yuseong Era" was my dad. No matter how much of his talent I inherited, matching that level of performance was impossible.
I had a stronger identity as a pitcher, anyway.
That said, if I'd only played as a hitter, I don't think I'd have claimed a single MVP. Bluntly put, Batter Jin Yuha wasn't even close to his father—hell, he couldn't surpass Kang Gihoo either.
Of course, that would've held true even if I'd stuck to pitching exclusively. At least five career MVP awards? Out of the question.
Batter Jin Yuha was the finishing touch that let Player Jin Yuha monopolize MVPs.
The reason Batter Jin Yuha could serve as that finishing touch?
My hitting wasn't MVP level, but it was Silver Slugger caliber.
And.
That was more than enough to dominate KBO-level pitching.
Everything's relative, after all.
It had been ages since I'd gripped a bat in a game, but it felt plenty familiar. Sure, game at-bats were rare lately, but I'd swung it often enough in practice.
Tap, tap.
A pitcher coming off three days' rest...
He'd volunteered for the start himself, but Shim Chando knew he was pushing it. His velocity was already down from normal. So.
Four-seamer to lure me, breaking ball to finish.
Though as a pitcher facing a batter, he might toss it up lightly.
Shim Chando's not that easy a matchup.
More importantly, Kim Beomjun behind the plate had a rough idea of my hitting level.
Even so, if he jams a four-seam right in the zone...
Thank you very much.
Whiiiff!!
But.
Ball.
As expected, Shim Chando had no intention of making it easy on me either.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
A four-seamer just barely off the strike zone.
"Whoa, that control is insane. You aimed for that, right?"
"...It slipped."
"Yeah, right."
I flashed a smile at Kim Beomjun, who was trying to psych me out with nonsense.
Tap, tap.
Batter Jin Yuha's biggest strength was his eyes. Pinpoint plate vision that could instantly tell if a pitch was in the zone, fastball or off-speed.
Whiiiff!!
Against a guy like me.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
Back-to-back lure pitches weren't a great idea.
"Beomjun-ah, your instincts are off today? Makes sense—it's been a while since I held a bat."
"...Were we that close?"
We weren't, really. Among draft classmates, only Jeong Hanseong and I were tight. Even high school alumni kept their distance.
"Still classmates, classmates."
If acting buddy-buddy could rattle the overworked catcher's nerves, it was worth the awkwardness.
Two balls...
He wouldn't want to walk me easily. Handing a free pass to a guy like me? An ace couldn't stomach that.
So the third pitch'll be a strike...
Whiiiff!!
Probably.
Vrooom!!
A breaking ball.
Thwack!!
"Strike!"
Even knowing it was a breaking ball coming in for a strike didn't make it easy to handle. I wasn't my father, and Shim Chando was no pushover.
"Whoa... that changeup's nasty."
"Better than yours, right?"
"Fair."
If it really was.
"You wouldn't have lost to me."
"..."
The best part of batting? Bantering with the opposition like this.
Whiiiff!!
Same pitch again?
Vrooom!!
How lightly do you see me?
Crack!!
I smoked the changeup cleanly on the same path.
"Foul!"
The sharp liner tailed just outside the foul line.
"Close one."
2-2 count. Balls didn't matter much against aces like me or Shim Chando.
We can bury a good one in the zone anytime.
What counted was grabbing two strikes first.
Count's got some room—another lure? Or straight heat?
Either way.
Whiiiff!!
I wasn't backing down easy.
Thwack!!
"...Ball."
I laid off the swing, took the ball.
"That was razor-thin."
It was the kind that could've fooled you if you blinked.
Full count now...
Win-or-lose pitch incoming for sure.
No more lures.
Like I said, an ace's pride wouldn't allow a walk.
But he won't groove one either.
Most likely pitch?
Whiiiff!!
A body-side two-seamer he hadn't thrown me yet—one lesser hitters couldn't handle.
Vrooom!!
But while others might not know, I'm the hitter here with the densest experience.
Crack!!
Handling an inside two-seamer? Child's play.
"Ah."
And even compacting my swing with a bent elbow, I had the power for extra bases.
"Just short."
The result of our first pitcher-hitter duel? A double.
Crack!!
The massive liner banged off the wall.
Thud-thud.
Meanwhile, the batter leisurely took second.
It was a shocking scene. The pitcher on the mound was Shim Chando. The guy with the double? Jin Yuha.
Bottom of the second, one out, runner on second.
Everyone's faces are priceless. Hell, I was shocked the first time I saw Yuha hit too.
No. 6 hitter Park Cheongwon strolled to the plate, scanning the rattled Guardians' faces.
"Damn... that guy's face doesn't crack even here."
Only Shim Chando on the mound kept his poker face.
Guess I'll mess that up.
Jin Yuha one-man team. Titans fans had heard it ad nauseam this season.
They even joked it was a two-man show with Gihoo, or a one-tool starter team.
Park Cheongwon's name never came up. Unlike his prime, when the Titans wallowed in darkness and he carried them solo.
Back then, it was the Park Cheongwon one-man team.
Did he want those days back?
Hell no.
He'd achieved everything as a player. His one remaining goal? Korean Series title.
Whiiiff!!
And Park Cheongwon had no intention of leaving that win to his teammates alone.
Crack!!
"Foul!"
Even Jeong Hanseong, openly called his successor.
Whiiiff!!
Even Jin Yuha, the Titans' new symbol.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
Their hunger for a ring couldn't match his.
Whiiiff!!
Not Busan born, but.
Vrooom!!
Seventeen years with the Titans.
Crack!!
No one craved it more.
"Ah..."
The shame? Prime time hit too late.
Two years younger, and that's extra bases for sure...
Thud-thud.
But it was fine.
Slide.
"...Safe!"
The stars of this belated contention window had skill enough to ease an old catcher's regrets.
"Hahaha!"
Bottom second. The Titans' 17-year franchise star catcher summoned the rookie ace home.
First blood.
"Yuha! You good? That slide wasn't too reckless, right?"
Brushing dirt off my uniform back to the dugout, Manager Jeong Hyeonho fussed.
"I'm fine. Wasn't pushing it."
It was deep enough for a legit run at home.
"And my body's not that fragile."
It doesn't break easy.
"Phew... good to hear. Man, you are fast. That lanky build help?"
The Titans dugout buzzed with cheer.
Our secret plan with the manager had bloodied the nose of the Guardians' gutsy ace. Early innings, but this run mattered.
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
No more runs, but still.
Cornered, the Guardians didn't fold easy.
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
James Gilbert started the inning fanning the leadoff man.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
But issued a walk after a gritty battle to the next.
Thud-thud.
"Safe!"
The runner swiped second aggressively on the first pitch.
Crack!!
A daring dash home on the infield-flirting single tied it.
No one knew how this game would end.
Vrooom!!
"Swinging strike three!"
Thankfully, James Gilbert buckled down post-RBI, fanning the next two to escape.
Crack!!
"Out!"
Crack!!
"Out!"
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
Shim Chando's pitching—unbelievable for just three days' rest—kept rolling. Bottom fourth.
Thwack!!
"Strike three!"
Leadoff Frank Rodriguez clutched his head at the razor-edge opposite-zone pitch.
Crack!!
"Out!"
Senior Yoon Gangyeol's liner died in the shortstop's glove, bringing my second at-bat quick.
"Beomjun-ah, back at it?"
Kim Beomjun's reply to my greeting?
"Time!"
Timing out with the ump and heading to the mound.
What's the rush—can't even say hi...
"Hyung, you sure you're okay?"
To Kim Beomjun, Shim Chando was nearing his limit. Taming the Titans' top order was luck-aided.
"...Should we signal for a reliever from the pen?"
Shim Chando opened his mouth slowly, face unchanged.
"I'm..."