Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Everyone said Manager Kwak Gu-beom was a man of data, a manager who never strayed from expectation.
But today, he had broken that mold more than once.
Bringing Park Si-woo in as a reliever.
Leaving him to handle a crisis in the 8th inning.
“Tell Jung-won to start warming up.”
“Yes. Then we’ll go with Jung-won in the 9th.”
“No. Just have him warm up.”
“…Then…”
“For now, we go with Si-woo.”
And now, even entrusting him with the bottom of the 9th.
For the Kwak Gu-beom everyone knew, it was unimaginable.
“Manager, he already pitched a great 8th. Wouldn’t it be better for him to finish it here?”
The pitching coach had a point.
Eight scoreless innings. A perfect debut after the trade.
But Kwak was looking further ahead.
“It won’t go in the record, but everyone’s watching.”
A complete game shutout.
Technically, it wasn’t one. But it carried more weight than any stat.
“In recent years, the Marines haven’t had a complete game—let alone a shutout.”
Even in modern baseball, where complete games were rare, it still meant something.
It meant they hadn’t had a true ace.
Sure, a 9-inning shutout win and a messy 5-inning win both counted as one win.
But not today.
Opening day. A game that had been slipping away.
If they won like this, it would mean far more than just one win.
The only question was whether Si-woo could still throw his pitches.
“That part’s easy.”
He’d thrown 93 pitches.
For a normal pitcher, fatigue would already be showing.
Especially for a rookie.
But not for Si-woo.
There was a saying: a knuckleballer could throw 200 pitches without losing strength.
Maybe grip strength would fade—but 100 pitches was nothing.
“If he looks tired or puts runners on, we pull him.”
That decision was shared with the entire team.
“Wow… getting your first win like this?”
“…I don’t even have a debut win yet.”
“…Ah. Right.”
Park Hyun-woo had meant it as a joke to ease tension.
Instead, it made everyone more nervous.
“Hey, you heard him. If anyone makes an error, you’re dead. Especially you, Jung-woo—forget that last mistake and stay sharp.”
“…Yes.”
While the fielders tightened up, Si-woo didn’t seem nervous at all.
“That’s strange.”
His first win—something he’d wanted so badly—was right in front of him.
But he felt nothing.
Instead, his mind kept going back to the 8th inning.
The moment he’d lowered his head in disappointment.
And the luck that followed.
Two outs, runners on second and third. One hit would have tied the game.
That moment was why he could throw freely now.
“Man, what is up with his pitches…”
The Marines’ offense in the top of the 9th produced nothing.
Now it was time for the pitcher to take the mound.
Fans held their breath, watching the dugout.
“Si-woo, let’s go.”
“Yes.”
The moment Si-woo appeared, the stadium erupted.
“The Marines are sticking with Park Si-woo instead of their closer!”
“He came in with bases loaded and no outs in the 1st, struck out three, and has now recorded 24 consecutive outs without allowing a run!”
“Will Manager Kwak’s decision create a new ace in the KBO? The Friends’ final chance begins now!”
Bottom of the 9th.
First batter: Kim Seung-jun.
Instead of a pinch hitter, they trusted his speed.
And he made the obvious choice.
“Bunt!”
He just needed to get on base.
Despite the unpredictable knuckleball, he executed it well—
“I got it!”
—but Song Min-seok, more fired up than ever, cut it off.
Next up: Kang Hyuk-woo.
2 hits, 1 walk today.
Yet his face was dark.
“...Fine. Throw that pitch again.”
The hard knuckleball still haunted him.
But as if reading his thoughts, Si-woo and Min-seok didn’t use it.
And proving his earlier hits were just luck—
“Strikeout!”
Only knuckleballs.
Kang walked back with his head down.
Last batter—Baek Ho-gi.
Maybe his approach was the best.
One swing could reset everything.
A home run.
And his swing—
Crack!
—only brought the end closer.
A high pop-up to the infield.
Si-woo raised his hand, calling for it himself.
The infielders froze, watching.
“Out!”
The moment the umpire called it, they all rushed him at once.
Just under four years since his professional debut—
Park Si-woo finally had his first win.
Final Score
Busan Marines 4 : 3 Seoul Friends
Park Si-woo: 9 innings, 3 hits, 11 strikeouts, 0 runs
“They’re selling all the balls. Pick one.”
“First strikeout ball, first consecutive strikeouts, first KKK, 10K ball… and the one that got stuck in the fence.”
“I’ve got the others at home. That last one’s tempting.”
“You have all of them?”
Strikeout balls piled up over time.
He had over 100 strikeouts in his first season.
At one point, he focused on strikeouts because of constant fielding errors.
Then even the catcher started dropping pitches.
He even had a four-strikeout inning.
“I’ll take this one.”
He pulled a ball from his pocket.
Today’s date.
His first professional win.
That was enough.
“Park Si-woo! Park Si-woo!”
Fans filled the exit.
“Today was incredible!”
“Thank you for joining our team!”
He didn’t even feel the fatigue in his arm.
He signed as many autographs as he could—
Then saw a familiar jersey.
And a familiar face.
“Oh? It is you, right?”
“Uh… yes. Hello…”
The previous tenant of his house.
The girl who had given him the charm.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Came to watch the game?”
“…Yes. Could you sign quickly, please?”
Her friends were staring at her, demanding explanations.
He could’ve let it go.
But he decided to tease her.
“Of course. I promised, didn’t I? On my jersey. Oh, and thanks for the gift. I carry it with me—want to see?”
“That’s okay! Thank you!”
He tapped where the charm was.
Choi Seo-ha panicked and ran.
He glanced at the writing on her back.
Seoul National University.
“Guess she got in.”
That day—
was the day someone achieved their dream,
and someone else found theirs.
“Sports scientist.”
“…Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to play.”
“Next game is the home opener, right? Your mom and I are going. Get tickets.”
“…I’ll try.”
“Your manager was all over the broadcast. The way he looked at you—thought I was watching your mom.”
“…Haha.”
“…Son. Good work.”
“…Thank you.”
His voice caught.
His mother couldn’t even speak—she had cried too much.
He thought they didn’t watch his games anymore.
But they had watched every single one.
Whether he played or not.
“…I’ll get those tickets.”
Then his phone rang again.
“…Hello?”
“Listen to your voice. You know you messed up, right?”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Forget it. Anyway—congrats on your first win.”
“Thank you.”
“So? Feel like you’re flying?”
“Not really.”
“…Really?”
“But it does feel like zero gravity here.”
“Crazy bastard. You in space?”
“At least the moon.”
“…Well, you’ve been through a lot. Guess I don’t need to look after you anymore.”
“Come on, take it easy on me at least once.”
“Easy? Watching your pitches made me swear. What the hell was that?”
“See it for yourself.”
“…You’ve gotten cocky since joining the Marines. Anyway, good to hear you’re doing well.”
“How about you?”
“…No.”
“…What?”
“…We lost today.”
“…Ah.”
“Errors, walks, home run. Total mess.”
“…Wait.”
That sounded… very familiar.