Chapter 49
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Phoenix Flag Finals (3)
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First pitch... He's watching. Ball.
In a bases-loaded jam, it's tough to lay off... Of course, the usual Ji Maeng-ho might grind it out and give up just one run. But things are different now. One run ties it, two takes the lead. Gunsan High is fortunate today—Ji Maeng-ho's hitless in five at-bats. They have to seize this chance.
Exactly. Shut this inning down, and it's a championship. Gunsan High's players can't give up, even with the bases loaded. That unbreakable spirit—that's the heart of high school baseball.
As the announcers said, fire burned in the eyes of Gunsan High's players. Top of the 9th, two outs. Leading 1-0. Just one more out for the championship they'd dreamed of. Every player on Gunsan High was fully locked in.
The first baseman rising to his third year next year thought:
'I don't want to send my seniors—who endured three years of hell—into retirement with a loss.'
The catcher, a senior headed to college after this tournament, thought:
'We've never won in ten years. Let's claim victory with our own hands and bring glory to our alma mater.'
The ace starter, a prime draft pick, thought:
'Please, hold them off! You can do it, right? Sorry I couldn't finish the game. I'm a lousy captain, but just this once—I'm begging you!'
The shortstop, who clawed his way into the starting lineup after hellish summer fungo drills, thought:
'Send 'em my way. I'll snag them all... You can do this! Trust the sweat you poured out!'
And the center fielder, who never started until his defense earned him a spot in the finals, thought:
'I can't end my baseball like this. Please, keep it in the park... Please, please.'
Gunsan High's coach, Park Jung-hwan—no star players, but he'd forged his ragtag squad through infernal training to reach the finals—thought:
'Remember, kids! The scorching sweat from this summer. And the tears you've shed over three years!'
Memories flashed through Jung-hwan's mind like a montage.
—"Oh, Jung-hwan, back to the alma mater? I figured you'd coach in the pros."
—"No, Coach. I want to give back to my school like you did."
—"Alright. I can trust you with the head job."
Three years since returning to his alma mater, Gunsan High. The once-proud powerhouse was a shell of its former self. An aging mentor. Local prospects fleeing to big-city schools.
But Jung-hwan never quit. He kept pushing.
Now seniors, his first recruits. First ones always stick with you. He wanted to gift them the championship he'd tasted himself. And last year...
—"Don't cry. There's next year."
—"But the seniors..."
—"We're fine. But you guys—win it. Don't lose at the end like us. Thanks for everything, Coach!"
—"Next year, for sure...!"
Runners-up with those kids. Just one step short last year. One more step...
Now, kids who'd trained twice as hard. Every face etched in his memory. No prodigies, but that's why they grinded harder.
'I believe in you, kids...'
No stars meant victory burned brighter. He couldn't bear watching his hardworking boys quit baseball or skip college. Most would hang it up, save a few.
'Can't let that happen! After all their effort...!'
But a title changes everything. Awards could send more to college!
'Please! Just one out! One more out!'
Jung-hwan eyed his closer, Choi Jun-cheol.
The pitcher, haunted by a throwing error that cost a previous final, was now shutting the door.
'Draft's a long shot, but college is in reach... Win this, and maybe the draft too...!'
His gaze shifted to center fielder Jung Hwi-cheol. The kid who hurt his heart most.
For three years, silent backup in the field and on the bases. Then, snagging a homer in the first—enough to make him tear up. The boy's vow to quit after this tournament made it worse.
'Hwi-cheol, you've gotta go to college too...'
Slowly scanning his fielders. One by one. Their stories flooded his mind.
Sweating under the midsummer sun... Gazing at them, Jung-hwan clasped his hands in prayer, atheist or not.
'God, Buddha, anyone—help my boys win! I'm begging you!'
Pitcher's second offering—a curve! Pops it up! High! Deep! Toward the wall! Outta here! But it hooks foul left! A monster foul homer! Ji Maeng-ho's screaming he's still alive despite going hitless in five today! But it's foul. Count's one-and-one.
That's the frustrating part about Ji Maeng-ho today. Normally, he'd crush that for a homer. Weirdly unlucky. Gunsan High's got the breaks!
Gunsan High's praying coach stared at Ji Maeng-ho, who'd just unleashed that screamer.
'Why him? Why against us...'
Golden Lion MVP. Blue Dragon MVP. Phoenix Flag MVP lock. Tournament-leading .500+ average, four homers—a monster hitter.
After 15 pro years and 1,700 hits, Jung-hwan sensed it instinctively. Ji Maeng-ho's talent was otherworldly. No pro monster like this.
'High schooler with a polished swing. Fastball? Crushed. Off-speed? Smashed. Reads pitches like a devil. Foul tips clear the wall. A perfect hitter. Too cruel for my boys.'
How did this talent block their path?
With 1,700 hits, he knew talent's terror. Dim lesser gifts. Realize you can't surpass it, and your light fades forever.
He'd retired before that wall.
Life's unfair. Baseball more so. Dawn-to-dusk grinding can't beat god-favored talent—even if they slack.
Like him.
...But today, Ji Maeng-ho was off. Hitless in five. Golden chance!
Jung-hwan banished doubt. Prayed fiercely for his "truth" to shatter before his boys.
'Show 'em, kids! Prove average talent wins with effort! Show sweat equals results!'
Gunsan High closer Choi Jun-cheol's third pitch—fastball tails outside. One-one, two balls. Ji Maeng-ho doesn't flinch.
That's Ji Maeng-ho's superpower. Won't chase what he doesn't like. That fastball tailed just enough to fool most, but he doesn't blink.
Eye like he knows it's a ball. You're a pitcher—how's it feel facing a guy picking apart what you're throwing?
Feels like battling a demon. Whatever you throw, he'll crush. Even bait pitches—he'll spit 'em. Like he's possessed. But conquer that, and you're a real pitcher. No hitter knows every pitch. It's illusion. Overcome it. You got this, Choi Jun-cheol!
Every pitch high stakes. Battery conferences dragged, letting casters unload.
Ji Maeng-ho's genius for inducing that dread. Interviews confirm—even first-round picks feel demonic, like he reads their souls.
Crack!
Right on cue—fourth pitch, fouls it back. Two-and-two. Ghostly contact on anything near the zone.
Timing a hair late? Thought it was sinking, but adjusted mid-flight with animal instinct.
Perk of elite bat speed, right?
Yep... And few pros battle counts like Ji Maeng-ho. Look at his face—stone-cold, dominating the mound. Behind that poker face? Simulating dozens of scenarios, picking the odds-on choice.
The caster swallowed hard at the analyst's words. What calculations hid in those calm eyes?
All pitchers called him demonic. High school level, but this draft class was stacked—experts raved, and the 20-year vet caster agreed.
Among elites, Ji Maeng-ho shone brightest. Pitcher took the sign, wound up. Do-or-die pitch. Everyone held breath—casters, analysts, fans.
Gunsan High's Park Jung-hwan held his too. Battery calling for the fifth sign, as always.
Two-and-two. Bait timing. Drop ball to induce swing—ideal. But savvy Ji Maeng-ho bites? Inside? Nah, eagle eye won't miss. Fastball outside? Full count disaster.
Brainstorming. Every pitch Choi could throw. Fastball, curve, change. In-high, in-low, out-high, out-low. Praying for command at crunch time.
Superhuman recall: 15 pro years, every at-bat. Jung-hwan's 1,700 hits? Crafted via guile, sans gifts.
'What would I hunt here?'
No high schooler outschemed his 15 years! That's what he banked on.
Or he'd never call a sign for his trusting battery.
Decision: What he'd hunt—then the opposite. Acknowledging Ji Maeng-ho, he signaled.
'Believe in you, kids!'
Long sign exchange ends. Nod. Fires!
Thwack—!
[...]
[...]
The purest crack of the day rang out, silencing the stadium. Casters, analysts, fans—all watched the flight.
Fielders freeze! Scoreboard! Gone! Monster! Outta here! Homer! Ji Maeng-ho top 9th—bases-loaded miracle to save the team! High school baseball's demon! Shatters his own homer record again!
Caster ecstatic.
Whoa...
Analyst speechless.
'Sorry, kids.'
Jung-hwan wept. That crack—the ideal he'd dreamed of. Sunglasses hiding tears, he watched his collapsed pitcher.
'Good work, Jun-cheol. Don't break. Blame my green sign.'
Not just Jun-cheol. All Gunsan fielders sobbed. Two or three years' grind—vanished in one swing.
"Sniff."
Sobs from the dugout too. Jung-hwan knew the feeling. Pro scars.
Facing that talent in the finals, scarring his boys... All his fault. Bad call. Hate me.
Yet doubt lingered.
'How'd he know that pitch?'
Not blind luck—that pure sound, over the board. His plan read perfectly.
'Changeup—only thrown once this inning, low-inside. Jun-cheol's a fastball-curve guy...'
To Jung-hwan, perfect change. But Maeng-ho's swing perfection. One change all game...
'Gotta admit it.'
30 years in baseball. 15 pros on guile. But a pre-grad kid leaped his lifetime scheme—baseball god's chosen.
...He had to concede.
Just prayed his boys wouldn't scar like he had before that radiant wall.
'Whoa, meatball there? Gutsy.'
'Heh, changesup's like that. Sit dead red, even kids clear the wall.'
'120 km/h? Basically grooved. Kekeke. No choice against Ji Maeng-ho—any pitcher's pissing scared.'
'Kuhahaha, madlad.'
'Thanks! Kekehaha!'
[High School Baseball] Korean Physical Education High School Wins 50th Phoenix Flag National Championship... Ji Maeng-ho's Comeback Grand Slam!
(OSEX Reporter Park OO)
Korean Physical Education High School claimed the 50th Phoenix Flag. In the final, top high school team Korean Physical Education High School downed gritty comeback kings Gunsan High 4-1. Gunsan High led by one through 25 outs, but couldn't snag the 26th—settling for runner-up.
Meanwhile, Korean Physical Education High School swept Golden Lion, Blue Dragon Flag, and Phoenix Flag—MVP triple crown. At center: Ji Maeng-ho, MVP all three.
(Photo of beaming Ji Maeng-ho)
(Phoenix Flag MVP Ji Maeng-ho photo=Reporter Park OO)
...[excerpt]...
Ji Maeng-ho on the homer pitch: "Sat changeup from the start." To the victim pitcher: "Great pitch—just met too strong a foe. Don't take it hard."
...[excerpt]...
With this epic high school run, Ji Maeng-ho joined AT Thunderbirds in the '2023 Rookie Draft.' All eyes on his pro trailblazing.