Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Blue Dragon Cup. (1)
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-"Maeng-ho, the higher-ups are leaning toward you. But it's not set in stone. You'll need to put on a strong showing at the Blue Dragon Cup to boost your chances."
"Got it. Playing baseball as a baseball player isn't exactly rocket science."
-"Right. We're expecting big things from you at the Blue Dragon Cup. It'd be great if you ended up on our team."
"Thanks. Take care."
The morning of the Blue Dragon Cup finally dawned. After my first meeting with Cheon So-young, I'd decided to sign with her agency. SY Agency had a solid reputation, and I'd confirmed the contract was fair across the board.
Everything wrapped up smoothly, and I even got her phone number. That's how I was able to reach out before the game. From her tone, it seemed like she had high hopes for me.
But why was someone like her working at AT? She had enough money to start her own agency, she was young and beautiful, and as operations manager, she clearly had the skills. What reason could she have for joining a dump like the AT Thunderbirds?
'That's the magic of baseball. Even normal people go crazy for it and end up like that.'
'What do you mean?'
'Look at her—she's a die-hard AT fan. Why else would she join a team like that?'
'Yeah, you're right.'
Was baseball really that captivating? Well, that explained how it had lasted over 150 years. Still, chatting with a pretty girl like Cheon So-young beat dealing with those drab guys any day. Good thing it worked out.
I handed back my phone and boarded the baseball team bus headed to Mok-dong Stadium. Once everyone was on, with me being the last, the head coach stood in the middle aisle and cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Can you all hear me?"
"Yes!"
"Good. No slacking just because it's the round of 32. Let's win it all again and prove we're the top school this year!"
"Yes, sir!!!"
The bus was buzzing with energy. We'd dominated the second half of the weekend league too. Of course, my three homers played a big part.
I could've hit more, but there was some regret. The pitchers just weren't giving me good pitches. Sure, it boosted my on-base percentage, but I wanted more homers to jack up my value. Not quite satisfied.
"Won-ho's not pitching today, so you're on the mound, Young-cheol. You know that, right?"
"Yes! I'll do my best."
"Doing your best matters less than doing well."
"I'll do well!"
"Great spirit! Let's roll. Seatbelts on. All good? Driver, head out."
*
"As I explained before heading out, their pitcher's Shin Jeong-hoon, the likely first-round pick from the Charlotte Blue Mariners. He only threw two innings in the second half of the weekend league since he's a top prospect, but at the Golden Lion Tournament, it was 15.2 innings, two runs, and nine scoreless in the first half. I trust you know him better than I do. No one skipped the scouting report yesterday, right?"
"No!"
"He's a sidearmer, so our lefties need to step up. Won't be easy, but you know we have to climb this mountain to win it all."
"We know!"
"Right. They're Busan's powerhouse, Gyeongnam Jeil High, but who won the last Golden Lion?"
"Hanchego!"
"Exactly, and we're even stronger now! Go crush 'em!"
"The heart of Korean athletics! Hanchego! Fight!"
They were fired up. Coach had turned into a hot-blooded motivator after tasting victory. He wasn't always like that.
According to Hye-jin noona, he was dreaming of pro coaching again. With Lee Ki-cheol's resume, it wasn't a stretch. But the timing lined up with when he and Hye-jin decided to have a kid—probably connected somehow.
Not that I cared much. Oh yeah, Hye-jin noona said she went to the OB-GYN today. Kinda nervous about the results. Ever since that first creampie, I'd been finishing inside every time. Fingers crossed.
She said she tried everything to avoid getting pregnant by the coach. If she was pregnant, whose kid would it be? That intrigued me.
'What do you think, Rogers?'
'Who cares whose it is? Monkey spawn either way.'
'Come on, give me a real answer.'
'Insolent monkey. If I had hands to grip a bat, I'd smash your skull first.'
'...Sorry.'
'Heh, why worry? You're not raising it.'
'Still curious.'
'With her personality, if she's pregnant, it's probably yours.'
'That eases my mind coming from you.'
"Whoa, Maeng-ho meditating again? Total routine now."
"Senior, you're up on deck."
Two outs already? Tsk. Useless bunch. I grabbed my bat and spread my arms before heading to the on-deck circle.
"Senior, arm guard."
"Got anything but this color?"
"Sorry, Joo-hyun senior's already wearing it."
"Damn, talentless punk snags the pretty one..."
I held my arms out, and the junior strapped on the arm guard. Another fitted an ankle guard on my left.
"Thanks, scram."
"Yes! Homer, please."
Why they groveled to gear me up was simple: I was good at baseball.
To go to college playing ball in Korea, you needed tournament stats and awards. Higher you climb, more chances to rack 'em up. Minimum for college: 40 at-bats for hitters, 10 innings for pitchers.
But which coach sends scrubs into close games and tanks it? Lee Ki-cheol played to win.
Without garbage time from extra games, weaklings rarely played. I was their garbage-time homer savior.
One time mid-game, a junior helped with gear since I was busy. It became ritual, and seeing old haters now idolize me? Felt damn good.
"Swing! Strike three!"
"Fuck, I was ready, and he Ks. Hey, Joo-hyun!"
"Uh, hyung."
"Can't you get on base? Get out there early so they don't walk me."
"Sorry."
"And that's my favorite color—wear something else next time."
"Got it."
Our cleanup hitter Lee Joo-hyun's face soured. I smirked inwardly. Back at the start of the year, he'd treated me like dirt. How's it feel now? Delicious revenge.
'What can they do? Without me, no college for 'em.'
'No team spirit at all.'
'Huh? Team? Rogers talking team?'
'Heh, nice growth. Even monkeys learn if you hammer it in.'
'Team my ass. They used to ignore me too.'
"Senior! Glove!"
"Cool, put it in my spot and guard the black arm guard. I only use that."
"Yes!"
The junior handed the glove, gathered my bat and gear, and headed to the dugout. Baseball's the life. So easy.
I took the glove and jogged to the field.
"Senior. We believe in you."
Today's starter Park Young-cheol tipped his cap in salute. After I bailed him out on D a few times, he became a loyal fanboy.
"Yeah. Send 'em my way. Hits are fine, just no free passes. I'll score 'em, so cut my wait time."
"Yes! Thanks today too."
Warmed up on the field, and Gyeongnam Jeil's bottom first started. First time seeing them up close since they got bounced early from Golden Lion.
"Play ball!"
Game on. Young-cheol fired a fastball down the middle.
'Velocity looks sharp today. No wonder he's starter since sophomore year.'
As expected, he mowed through three batters on five pitches—all groundouts. Quick three up, three down.
"Hyung! Ended it fast like you said—score some!"
"Wait for it."
Back to dugout, juniors swarmed with water, bat, gear.
"No water."
"Yes!"
They geared me up quick, eyes full of hope. Big runs today, right? I could almost hear it.
'Fine, I'll swing for you vermin.'
A few cuts in the circle, then to the plate.
"Hello there."
'Greet the ump first. Catcher? Frozen stiff. Not easy. Help me out, Rogers.'
'On it.'
'Pitch location's trash anyway—no need.'
Shin Jeong-hoon: near-underhand sidearm, 153 km/h two-seamer beast. Plus an 110 km/h curve off-speed. Tricky.
'Shaking off? What?'
'Rejecting curve sign. Gripping two-seamer tight.'
Figures, ace ego. First at-bat against new school's ace, always stubborn. One homer fixes that.
"Time!"
He delayed, so I called time, loose swings.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Bat whistled menacingly. Catcher's face stonier.
'Two-seamer.'
Matched my timer. Windup—he threw, I swung.
Whoosh!
Eh?
"Strike!"
Whoa, that movement. Charlotte first-rounder for a reason. Snuck in like a snake at my knees.
'Rogers, where was the mitt?'
'Middle.'
Tsk. Middle pitch with that break? Early game, low mistake chance.
Changeup now?
'Tsk tsk, always dodging? Split the zone—ignore inside, hunt outside. You'll clip middle.'
'Roger.'
Pro advice. Reset zone, back in. Shin smirked faintly.
Happy with the whiff? Bring it.
'Two-seamer.'
Not missing! Trajectory wide outside. This one!
Crack!
Smashed it, tossed bat stylishly. Backpedaled to first, admired the drive. High and deep to left, sailing left... left... left...
"Foul!"
Shit. Overpowered? Fouled around the pole. Awkwardly fetched distant bat, back to plate.
"Whoa, didn't go out? Lucky."
".......Two strikes, just the juiced one hung."
"Juiced? Speak proper. I'm saying it for your sake, bro. Next two-seamer wrecks the scoreboard."
"You two. Quiet."
"Sorry."
"Got it."
Apologized to ump, refocused. Big foul homer shook 'em—long sign exchange.
'Curve.'
Yeah, scared after that rip. Curve bounced early, way off.
"What? Thought it was soft toss? Mound too far? Won't reach home."
"...Shut it."
"Don't 'you' me. I'm held back—what's your age?"
"Keep talking, warning."
"Sorry."
"Got it."
Poked the bear—two-seamer now?
'Two-seamer.'
Gyeongsang catcher fiery too. Poked, straight two-seamer.
'Careful. Mitt inside.'
...Fuck.
Ball left hand, straight at me. Stood pat, glared. Caught near knees. Rattled a bit, but no backing down—kept staring.
Scared? Can't meet eyes.
'Curve. Mitt in zone—winning pitch probably.'
'Yes. Swinging this time.'
'Good. Not fast—bail if off.'
'Obviously.'
Obvious inside fake to curve-K. No idiot bites knowing. Timed curve, waited.
And,
Crack!
Perfect timing—lifted curve clean, rocketed skyward. No doubt. Dropped bat toward dugout en route home, cupped ear. Stadium erupted like war from my blast.
Mostly our dugout cheers.
"Whoa!! Ji Maeng-ho! Ji Maeng-ho!"
"Maeng-ho senior! Knew it!!"
"Crazy bastard!"
"Maeng-ho oppa! I love you!!!"
Brats. Loud pipes. But who was last?
Thud. Ball ricochets off scoreboard top to infield. Stepping on plate, muttered catcher-only:
"Saw that? Ham said he'd smash the board."
Dialect right?