Chapter 1
Chapter 1
I was, in my own way, a pretty good pitcher.
After being selected in the first round of the draft, I joined the first team right away and started my rookie season as the fifth starter.
But there was just one problem. I had no luck.
“A mis-hit ball, the right fielder, center fielder, and second baseman are converging! Oh, it drops right between all three! The batter-runner makes it to second! Park Si-woo lets out a hollow laugh.”
That was my first opponent in my first first-team appearance, and my first hit allowed.
That hit led directly to a run.
Of course, we lost that game.
“Right fielder! He can’t catch it! The ball rolls past him, and the batter-runner races to third! He’s rounding third! Home! Safe at home! An inside-the-park home run! Choi Jung-hoon!”
That was the first home run I gave up in my next game.
Of course, we lost that one too.
Well, up to that point, it was just a series of mishaps.
The fans only pitied me. No one really blamed me.
But that only lasts for a day or two.
“Game over! The Wolves stop the Phoenix’s four-game winning streak! Today’s starting pitcher, Park Si-woo, falls into his third straight loss already!”
Eight innings, one run allowed, and zero run support. A loss.
And as a bonus, I became the streak stopper.
“Ah, the right fielder! The ball hits his glove and goes over the fence! Home run! It’s a home run!”
A ball that would’ve been a double if left alone, something a good defensive outfielder could have caught, turned into a home run.
“He hits it! Ah, right at the third baseman! Steps on third, throws to second, then first! Out! The Phoenix turn a crushing triple play here! The game goes into extra innings!”
Nine scoreless innings. I finally thought I’d get my first win, and then in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded with no outs, a triple play.
The game went to extra innings and we lost.
The funny thing was, the team did great without me.
It was as if all the team’s bad luck was gathered and dumped onto me alone.
At that point, even the club seriously suggested I get a ritual done.
But shouldn’t the team be the one getting the ritual, not me?
Of course, I refused.
Back then, I thought I could overcome it with skill.
But these days, I sometimes wonder.
Would anything have changed, even a little, if I had gone through with it?
In the end, before my rookie season even finished, I felt a severe pain in my elbow and received the worst possible news.
Tommy John surgery.
Even the timing of the injury was cruel, dropping out right before the Asian Games.
And while others said their velocity increased after surgery, I was the complete opposite.
Right after my return, my velocity was similar to before, but after a few games, it dropped by nearly 20 km/h.
I traveled everywhere, Japan, the United States, trying to find the cause, but in the end, I couldn’t.
With my reduced velocity, starting was impossible. I barely held onto a first-team spot, mostly eating innings in games that were already lost.
Fortunately, that worked to some extent, and occasionally I got chances to start.
Of course, they were just fill-ins, and I didn’t win.
Over three years, my record became an ERA of 6.31 with 0 wins and 15 losses.
During that time, the team even won the championship.
But I wasn’t part of it.
Well, everyone else was thriving, and I was the only one like this.
Still, it wasn’t like I had no role.
“Si-woo.”
In the final game of the season, with the standings already decided, the manager called me as he always did.
A game already lost.
“Boooooo—!”
As I took the mound, the boos came as usual.
It was only some of the fans, but it rang clearly in my ears.
The other fans probably thought the same.
I understood. I was the symbol of defeat.
As I stepped up, the batter smiled.
He must’ve thought he’d hit the jackpot.
But there was a reason I was still pitching here.
Two-seam fastball, low and inside.
The me who used to easily throw a four-seam over 150 km/h was gone.
I had long since abandoned the four-seam.
Instead, I relied on a two-seam that barely reached 136 km/h.
The speed wasn’t what it used to be, and the pitch lacked bite, but it still went where I wanted.
Crack!
“Foul!”
Making them swing and miss was out of the question.
So I had to use the batter’s psychology.
The last game of the season. There was no way hitters would waste their final chance to pad their stats.
Especially against someone like me.
Curveball, low and outside.
If it went even a little high, it would be gone.
So every single pitch had to be low.
“Strike!”
It barely clipped the edge of the ABS zone. I got lucky.
Something like this, for me? Was luck finally coming my way?
Yeah right.
Craaaack!
The pitch drifted right down the middle.
At that moment, the batter’s bat whipped through, and the sound I hated slammed into my ears.
And the ball I threw appeared in front of me in an instant.
The regular season ends tomorrow, and even at the very end.
...seriously, damn it.
Thud!
“You were lucky. If it had hit a little lower...”
Hearing the doctor’s words, I felt something strange.
So there comes a day when I hear something like that.
Then could I ask for just a little more luck?
“There’s a game in a month. Do you think I can play?”
The regular season was over.
But the most important postseason was still left.
The Phoenix finished first and advanced directly to the Korean Series.
Three consecutive trips to the Korean Series.
But the first year, I only watched due to injury, and last year, I made the roster but never played.
And now, the third chance.
The moment I got hit in the head, I had given up on it, but still, maybe.
“Hmm. We’ll have to see, but you’ll probably be fine.”
At those words, I clenched my fist.
Good. I still had a chance.
Of course, with my ability, even if I made the roster, there was a high chance I wouldn’t play.
But the difference between having no chance and having even a little was like heaven and earth.
I held onto that small hope, but hope shatters in an instant.
“I’m sorry. It’s already been decided.”
“Coach! There’s still a month left! The doctor said I’d be fine!”
“I know. I know, but it’s already decided. Just focus on recovering and get ready for next season.”
I understood.
But my chest felt heavy.
I was a replaceable piece, and putting me on the roster meant that game was already lost.
So they’d rather use another pitcher.
And just like that, my third season ended.
And a month later.
“An unbelievable event in professional baseball today! Game 7 of the Korean Series. Just when it seemed the Phoenix had secured the championship, the Wolves’ batters stormed the mound and pulled off a stunning comeback victory...”
“...we lost that?”
The Daejeon Phoenix were a strong team.
In my rookie year, we were runners-up. Last year, we won. This year, we finished first in the regular season.
A nine-game gap over second place, the Seoul Friends.
And the Gwangju Wolves came in as the third-place team.
In terms of strength and stamina, Phoenix had the clear advantage.
The only flaw, if anything, was probably me.
But I had been hit in the head in the final game and was left off the Korean Series roster.
Honestly, I didn’t even want to watch games I wasn’t part of, so I just checked the result.
And we didn’t win this?
“This is going to blow up.”
Last year’s championship ended a forty-year drought, but this year, the goal was even bigger.
A unified championship.
Even the club chairman showed up for both home and away games. It had been that important a year.
Of course, everyone thought the Korean Series title was guaranteed.
But instead, a runner-up finish, losing a game that was practically won.
The backlash was inevitable.
Of course, it had nothing to do with me, someone who didn’t even play.
“You can go now. Good work.”
“Thank you.”
After being declared fully recovered at the hospital, I was finally free.
But I had nowhere to go.
The season was over, so going to the stadium didn’t make sense, and the atmosphere there would be terrible anyway. And I didn’t really have anyone close enough to meet.
I wasn’t even from Daejeon, and there were hardly any players I could call friends.
Baseball players are sensitive to bad luck, and they gradually distanced themselves from me.
“...ha.”
Should I quit baseball?
When I first stepped into the professional world, I had dreams too.
To establish myself as a starter, play for the national team, and sign a big FA contract.
If I got the chance, I even wanted to challenge the Major Leagues.
That’s why I studied English.
But reality seemed to be telling me not to play baseball.
Injuries, fine. That happens.
Throwing bad pitches afterward, fine.
But a pitcher getting hit in the head by a ball and ending up hospitalized? That’s just ridiculous.
So while I was in the hospital, I thought about it.
It wasn’t about money. If I kept playing, would I even live a full life?
I’ve been thinking about that for over a month now.
But the conclusion was always the same.
I don’t want to quit baseball.
But it’s not up to me, is it?
My performance was bad enough that getting released wouldn’t be surprising, and now I even had to worry about my life on the mound.
I was probably the only baseball player in the world worrying about something like this.
But after all that thinking, the answer was always one.
I want to play baseball.
Any role is fine. I just want to stand on the mound and throw the ball.
“Hey, damn it. Way to kill the mood. Do you have no sense? Why the hell did you come here?”
Why does this kind of thing keep happening to me?
A team dinner to mark the end of the season.
The atmosphere wasn’t too bad.
Even though we were upset this year, our performance was good.
First place in the regular season and runner-up in the Korean Series.
At the center of it all was our strong pitching staff.
A young, powerful rotation that promised even more next year.
And at the center of that was Choi Myung-jun.
One comment from him made the atmosphere turn cold.
“Hey, hey. Who let him drink that much? Myung-jun, that’s enough.”
“Ah, senior. Did I say anything wrong? We’re already pissed about finishing second, and now we have to look at him too?”
“Hey. Watch your mouth. The coaches are right there.”
“...Yes. I’m sorry.”
Even after being scolded, Choi Myung-jun kept glaring at me with sharp eyes.
Here we go again.
I was used to that look now.
I met his gaze briefly, then looked away.
I didn’t even know why he acted like that.
No, no one did except him.
After I got injured, he took my spot and rose quickly.
And when I came back, he harassed me relentlessly.
Whether things went badly or it was just bad luck, he blamed me.
Said it was all my fault, that if I was going to bring bad luck, I should just leave the team.
Everyone knew he was going too far, but they stayed quiet.
It was true I had bad luck, and compared to that, his importance to the team was huge.
“You okay?”
The senior next to me asked, but there was only one answer I could give.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, just bear it for today. Damn it, that bastard. Acting like he owns the team.”
Even as he said that, he didn’t have the courage to say it in front of Choi Myung-jun.
There weren’t many players who would confront a key pitcher favored by the chairman.
“I’ll go to the restroom.”
I came in to cool my head.
I had been half dragged into this gathering.
And now, seeing Choi Myung-jun act like that on top of everything made me nauseous.
Creak.
“Damn, you’ve got it easy, don’t you?”
Ha. He even followed me here?
“You got something to say?”
“Yeah. If you had any sense, you wouldn’t have come.”
“Is this a place I’m not allowed to be? I’m a player on this team too.”
“A player? Bullshit. If it weren’t for you, we would’ve won!”
Me? What did I even do?
Just in case, I kept training until the roster was announced.
But I was left off it, and during the Korean Series, I couldn’t even enter the stadium.
And he says it’s my fault?
“Really? Then what did I do? Did I go out like you and screw up two starts?”
“What? You crazy bastard! You done talking?”
“No, not yet. If you had pitched even one good game, we’d be celebrating a championship today. So why didn’t you pitch better? If anything, if I had pitched, we would’ve won.”
Choi Myung-jun glared at me, then smirked.
“But you don’t have the skill or the luck for that.”
“Ha. Just get lost.”
“Do you know why you didn’t even make the roster?”
“...what?”
“Because you’ve got zero luck. Every time you play, the team loses. You’re always injured. And in the last game, you got hit in the head and collapsed. If you were in charge, would you take someone like that to such an important game? You’d think it’s bad luck.”
For a moment, I was dumbfounded, but thinking about it, he wasn’t wrong.
The reason they took another pitcher instead of me.
Bad luck.
Ha, so it was luck again.
The reason I never got a win, the reason I lost my velocity.
I got hit in the head because I had no luck, and I was left off the roster because I had no luck.
Just because I had no luck.
“So how lucky are you?”
“Me? I’m lucky. Can’t you tell just by looking?”
“Really?”
Perfect.
“Then let’s test it.”
I don’t know.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t drunk in so long, or because Choi Myung-jun kept pushing my buttons.
In that moment, I grabbed his head and slammed it into mine.
“What the hell are you talking about— Aaaagh!”
“Let’s see whose head breaks.”
He said getting hit in the head by a ball was actually lucky.
As if to prove it, while I stood there fine, Choi Myung-jun collapsed onto the bathroom floor.
Soon, his scream caused a commotion outside, and the door burst open.
“Hey! Damn it, Myung-jun! Are you okay? What the hell, Park Si-woo! What did you do!”
“Ugh...”
I was in slightly better shape than him, but I wasn’t exactly able to answer either.
Between the shock and the alcohol, my mind was fading.
And my last thought was this.
When I open my eyes, I hope I’m lucky too.