Chapter 79
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: National Team VS UG Overroses. (3)
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"Are you trying to force special batting practice or what? Maeng-ho. If you want to train, just say the word."
"...That's not it."
So far, my stats were 1-for-3. I had ripped one liner into left-center, but the ball was hit too hard for me to stretch it into a double. The UG outfielders' defense was unreal too. No wonder they were last year's champs—their fielding was flawless, no weak links, and their arms were cannons.
"You've still got one more at-bat left, though?"
"True."
"Assuming they don't pinch-hit for you."
The score was locked at 3-3—a nail-biter. If the coach wanted to make a move, I'd be yanked to the bench any second. And it was already the bottom of the seventh. I was starting to sweat.
'Bottom seventh, two outs. Our fifth hitter, Koo Jin-mo, is up. If just one guy gets on, I'll get my turn...'
"Jin-mo, fighting! Send one deep!"
Cheering from the dugout wasn't my style, but to dodge special batting practice, I needed to get on base. So I yelled encouragement at our cleanup man, Koo Jin-mo.
"The rookie's got some fire."
"Seung-cheol, you cheering or what? You're a rookie too, dude."
"Jin-mo hyung! Don't hold back 'cause I'm your teammate—crush it!"
Crack!
Koo Jin-mo seemed to hear us from the dugout and unleashed a beauty.
"That's crushed!"
"Please don't catch it."
The line drive rocketed out... only for UG's center fielder to snag it with a leaping grab.
"Whoa, how old is Kyung-min hyung? Dude still fields like that?"
"He got it."
Sigh... My mistake for counting on someone else. I quietly grabbed my glove.
"Ji Maeng-ho!"
What? Pinch-hitter? I turned at the coach's sudden call, halfway out of the dugout.
"Coach?"
"Go get 'em. No subs today—give it everything till the end."
Whoa! This was skipper magic? Giving a raw rookie like me the green light?
"Got it!"
The coach's assurance settled my nerves. Matching my calm, UG Overroses went down 1-2-3 in the top of the eighth. Bottom half, National Team's turn.
'Kim Su-ho, Lee Yong-ki, Kim Hwan-yeong—at least one gets on. My at-bat's coming.'
Kim Su-ho owned third base domestically. Lee Yong-ki had snagged three Gold Gloves as catcher from 2019 to 2022. And Kim Hwan-yeong? Back-to-back Gold Gloves at short for Silla Triggers the last two years.
He was quiet, not buddies like Park Cheol-young, but the guy's skills were legit. "No weak spots in the heart of the order" meant these three right in front of me.
'Please, just one on base!'
Crack!
"Right field!"
But my prayers fell flat—leadoff Kim Su-ho fouled off the first pitch and trudged back. Ugh, time to gear up? I scrambled for my stuff.
"Tough break."
"Jang Dong-hyun's the real deal, huh? That ball had weight. Hwan-yeong, no need to explain, right?"
"Yeah. I've seen him plenty."
"Cool."
"Um... Kim Su-ho sunbaenim?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not sure myself."
As next-up Kim Hwan-yeong headed to the on-deck circle, I swallowed my pride and asked Kim Su-ho about Jang Dong-hyun. Our analysts were busy scouting other teams, so no briefs.
"Right, you're the rookie."
"Yes. Please?"
"You really don't watch KBA? Not knowing Jang Dong-hyun."
"Well... been busy training..."
"Fastball mid-150s? Looks more mid-140s this spring. Mixes forkball and slider. Slider for count leverage, fork as the out pitch. Anything else?"
"Nah, that's plenty."
Velocity I could clock from here. Guy explained well—didn't seem standoffish after all, just selective.
"Ooh, crushed it!"
While I quizzed Hwan-yeong, Lee Yong-ki yanked a wall-double. National team caliber, no doubt.
"Pinch-runner, Park Cheol-young. Ready, Cheol-young?"
"Yes."
Slow-footed Yong-ki on second? Coach swapped for speedster Park Cheol-young. My cue for the on-deck?
Runner on second, no double-play threat. As long as Cheol-young didn't brain-lock, my at-bat was locked. And he was a baserunning wizard—low risk.
"Hey, call him home. Coffee's on me if you do. Deal?"
"What about special batting?"
"That's you and the upperclassmen."
"Sh..."
'...it.'
"Sh?"
"Starting now."
Almost cursed. Blame Rogers. That ghost dirtied my mouth—used to be squeaky clean.
'What kinda nonsense is that?'
'Can't pin it on me.'
'You little monkey...!'
'See? Cursing again. My mouth's foul now.'
'So what?'
'...Just saying.'
Can't afford to piss off Rogers here. Let it slide...
"Ball."
Studying UG's Jang Dong-hyun. First pitch slider—not huge break, but fastball speed tricked average hitters.
'Not your average hitter here. Wanna see the forkball... How to grind a full count?'
But no dice—Kim Hwan-yeong lifted the next one.
Crack!
"Popped up!"
Hwan-yeong's pull shot soared to right... but died, sinking.
'Caught?'
Right fielder backpedaling into position.
'No chance.'
'...Looks that way.'
"Out!"
Snagged it—and Cheol-young tagged up from second.
"Third!"
Park Cheol-young magic. Blazing speed. UG right fielder had a hose, but Cheol-young's wheels were quicker. Textbook read to slide.
'Big gap from you.'
'Rogers' baserunning sucks?'
My skills were high school plus his "experience"—which was zilch. Basically mine.
'Heh, power guys like me don't grind bases like you scrubs.'
'Fair.'
'Hate to admit, but that orangutan strength sells it.'
Rogers took the rare compliment and shifted to the pitcher.
'Focus.'
"Hey, you mouthed off to Jin-hyung yesterday?"
Quiet all game, now trash talk? Jin-hyung—that first baseman from yesterday?
"Why bring that up?"
"Pretty boy gets national team nod, don't mistake it for talent."
'RBI spot—trying to rattle you. Ignore. First pitch forkball.'
Made sense. Even practice game, hates losing? Fork anyway—lay off.
"Ball."
Jang's fork hummed like a fastball then dove. Unseen? I'd whiffed. Baseball's no "ifs."
"Rookie needs some stones. Scared to swing? Tch. You're done."
"Shut your trap and play ball."
"Shut my trap? Cocky punk."
"Ump, catcher's cursing—no call?"
"Ahem... Practice game, keep it clean. Both of you."
Ump finally reined in UG's catcher post my gripe.
'Worthless trash doing trash.'
Quiet catcher = pitcher focus.
'Pitcher's rattled?'
Jang eyed third base runner Cheol-young, distracted.
'Shaken? Hard to tell from face.'
'Veteran mug—nah. Baldy, next is four-seam. Catcher set outside.'
'Outside, got it.'
Trickiest spot. High schoolers telegraphed inside/out mitt targets.
But pros from camp on? Subtle. Even AT Thunderbirds' weak arms hid it—UG's bullpen kings, setup man pre-closer? Sneakier.
Watch that. UG pitchers' control was sharp all day.
"Time!"
My stance pulled off-plate for inside stuff. Knew outside—no need. Called time, faked timing swings, slid closer.
"Damn, kicking dirt. Dragging your feet?"
To mask the creep, idiot! Hid the urge to snap "Routine" and eyed Rogers.
'No change.'
'Roger.'
"Hup!"
Jang grunted—ball left his hand. Bench-watched timing...
Crack!!
'Got it...!'
Instant contact, wrists yanked for max pull power.
Bullet to left-field wall. Crushed.
'Quick ball watch.'
Post-gawk, catcher chewed turd-face hilarious.
"Whooo---!!!"
Pissed catcher got full roar, bat tossed skyward.
"......"
Jogging first, spotted yesterday's agitator at the bag.
"Whooo---!!!"
Ceremony his way too.
Smack!
Monster high-five with first coach, slow diamond trot.
"How'd you yank that outside heater?"
Park Cheol-young's awe hit from plate.
"Different league physique from hyung?"
"Punk, pro career bombs? Thirteen for me!"
"Thirteen? I'll spot you that in the first half."
"Scary part? I buy it."
"Easy."
Quick chat with Cheol-young, dugout entry—teammates lined up.
"Rookie fighting spirit?! Smashing practice games?"
"Power's insane, dude?!"
Thwack! Thwack!
"Congrats on the bomb, Maeng-ho!"
Thwack! Ow, shit. Hurt good. Joy over pain—not masochism.
"Aw, you owed special batting today. Nice rip, Ji Maeng-ho!"
Even equipment guy last. Home runs rule.
Top ninth. Two outs. UG's fourth-year guy walked, greeted first baseman Koo Jin-mo warmly.
"Sunbaenim. Good to see you."
"Yeah."
"Sunbaenim, um..."
"What?"
"Kyung-ho sunbae was kinda pissed."
"Kyung-ho? Why?"
"That... Ji Maeng-ho homer guy? Over the top. And rude to Jin-hyung yesterday too."
"Got it. Roughly."
Jin-mo clocked the vibe from years in the game.
'Tch, don't wanna hassle, but Kyung-ho spoke up—gotta gesture. He's heated.'
Baek Kyung-ho, UG vet catcher. Even franchise star like Jin-mo couldn't ignore him. Didn't love ragging other team's kid, but schooling juniors was elder duty.
"Anyway, thanks. Jin-hyung especially fuming."
"Focus on the game."
'Apology, done.'
Not his style to haze, but he'd done it before. Light touch—call Ji Maeng-ho post-game.