Chapter 35
Chapter 35
When Cha Jae-hoon missed the ball right at the start, the name Jung Se-won flashed through the minds of the Marines players. They thought they had temporarily forgotten him thanks to Park Si-woo, but Jung Se-won’s jinx was relentless. ‘Wasn’t it on the day that guy called the game that our streak broke?’ ‘Hah. Brings back memories of last year’s losing streak.’
Even just last year, before the second half began, Jung Se-won alone had predicted the Marines would finish fifth, and they fell exactly as he said. With a record like that, the Marines couldn’t help but notice—and the same went for the Challengers.
“Feeling good! Let’s go!”
Even though only the leadoff batter had reached base, the Challengers players felt as if they had already won. It seemed like Jung Se-won’s jinx had nearly worked. Other strong teams had never been able to beat Park Si-woo, and it felt like they were on the brink of cracking him.
Thirty minutes later, however, it became clear that the jinx had spent itself.
Crack!
Moon Kyung-joo, the Challengers’ leadoff hitter who had reached first earlier, ran full out to first on a weak grounder. He had hoped the luck from the first inning would come again, but...
“Out!”
Fortunately, Cha Jae-hoon didn’t make a second mistake. If he hadn’t dashed forward quickly, it might have been safe.
“Thanks, senior.”
Cha Jae-hoon awkwardly touched gloves with Park Si-woo, remembering the tense moment in the first inning.
“I should be the one thanking you.”
If that first-inning error had led to a run, this would have been his grave.
Cha Jae-hoon took a deep breath and prepared to bat. While Park Si-woo had shut out the first three innings aside from that error, the Marines offense steadily created chances: second inning, runners on second and third with two outs; first inning, runners on second and third with two outs. Still, no runs had scored. Compared to the tight offense of the Challengers, the Marines had momentum.
That made the bottom of the third, starting with the leadoff hitter, crucial.
“I’m going to get on base this time no matter what.”
Hwang Seo-jun said confidently before stepping to the plate. The Challengers’ pitcher was lefty Jung Jae-woo, once considered a decent starter but now barely able to pitch five innings. Luck had favored him in the first two innings, but...
Crack!
Hwang Seo-jun hit the ball down the right foul line into deep field. He sprinted to third, lifting the team’s morale. Bases loaded, no outs.
‘Fly, fly, fly, fly.’
Cha Jae-hoon, stepping up, thought only of scoring one run. That would be enough to win. He didn’t even notice how unusual it was—1-0 scores barely happen in a year. The Challengers still had six more chances to bat. More runs were better, but it was taken for granted. Still, he swung the first pitch energetically.
‘If I score one, Si-woo will do the rest.’
Crack!
The ball flew far. Cha Jae-hoon dropped his bat. His first home run of the season and redemption for his earlier error. Instead of one, he scored two runs and proudly returned to the dugout.
“Did you see that? Did you see?”
That was just the start. Ha Seo-jin drew a walk, Rex hit a double off the wall, Kang Yoon-woo’s sacrifice fly scored one, designated hitter Lee Do-hyun’s RBI single scored another, Woo Dong-hyun’s hit and Song Min-seok’s advancement, followed by Yoo Jung-woo’s two-RBI single completed the round. In the bottom of the third, the Marines scored six runs in total.
“Alright, I know you’re excited, but defense is more important,” Kim Min-ki said, calming his over-enthusiastic fielders while glancing at Park Si-woo.
The game was already tilting in their favor. All focus naturally fell on Park Si-woo. Yet he prepared as usual, seemingly unaware of it all.
‘Well, today his pitching really is insane.’
Lucky. Kim Min-ki finally understood how terrifying that word could be. One run? No hits, not even one? He smirked at the scoreboard. An error occurred, but if the game ended like this…
“Crazy guy.”
“Eh? Why do you say that?”
“Nothing, just talking to myself.”
Song Min-seok, startled, asked, and Kim Min-ki laughed it off. Even overthinking couldn’t ruin this. He told Song Min-seok, “Don’t look at the scoreboard anymore.”
“Eh? The scoreboard?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, got it.”
So far, it was just excitement, but Kim Min-ki knew it could cause problems later.
Hitting against a knuckleball varies. Some hitters swing blindly, some wait for a bad pitch, and some, like Eden, have unique techniques. Today, the Challengers mostly belonged to the first type.
“Strike!”
Who didn’t swing at the first pitch? The Challengers were aggressive. That choice was almost certainly correct. Unlike controlled hard knuckleballs, ordinary knuckleballs are unpredictable. Pitching always relies partly on luck.
And today, the hitters didn’t anticipate how lucky I was.
“Strikeout!”
I may have hit the perfect edge of the ABS. Not just once, but multiple times. That’s why they swung aggressively.
With this, I pitched a perfect three-up, three-down inning in the fifth. By the end of the fifth, it was 0-9, including Cha Jae-hoon’s second home run of the game. The dugout was tense despite the score. Records were frightening.
“Si-woo, you okay?”
“Yes.”
Other than occasional checks from the pitching coach, no one spoke to me. Min-seok was nearby, but he couldn’t leave Kim Min-ki’s side. No one else dared. This wasn’t Phoenix, though the circumstances were different.
After cleaning time, in the sixth inning:
“Strike!”
Same as before, but something felt off. Even poor knuckleballs were being swung at. After striking out the first batter, I called Min-seok aside.
“What’s up?”
“From this inning on, go mostly knuckleballs.”
“Why?”
“They want to swing hard, so no need to let them have it.”
Until now, I used knuckleballs to get counts, then hard knuckleballs to finish. If down to two strikes, hitters hold back. Now, they were aggressive, so I could keep throwing knuckleballs.
“Okay. Let’s try it.”
Min-seok nodded, returned to his position. Next batter: Moon Kyung-joo. First pitch, he immediately lowered his bat, exactly as expected. I threw in time with Cha Jae-hoon covering.
“Out!”
Knuckleballs are nice like this. Short follow-through makes defense easier. The inning seemed to end safely, but a commotion arose at first base.
‘Seriously?’
A multi-home run. Cha Jae-hoon, who usually hit about ten home runs a year but never two in one game, hummed while gathering his glove. The game was effectively won. Only four more innings to prevent runs. Slightly tense, but as long as runs were prevented, it was fine.
Then Kim Min-ki called the fielders together during cleaning time.
“Some of you may have noticed, but Si-woo hasn’t allowed a hit, right?”
Some nodded, some didn’t understand. Cha Jae-hoon was the latter.
‘No hits?’
Now, starting the sixth inning, four more innings to go for a no-hitter…
“Ah, damn.”
“What?”
“Nothing, sorry.”
Cha Jae-hoon realized it was his first-inning error that allowed Park Si-woo’s no-hit performance. He swallowed hard.
“Looks like Si-woo hasn’t noticed yet. Don’t show it. Focus, even if he allows a hit, okay?”
“Yes, understood.”
Cha Jae-hoon tried to hide his relief, recalling he could have made it a perfect game if not for his error. But he quickly regained composure. The important thing was the present. Help Park Si-woo complete the no-hitter, and everything would be solved.
In the sixth, Park Si-woo struck out successive batters, and Cha Jae-hoon exhaled.
‘Okay, Si-woo, ten more strikeouts.’
A moment of lighthearted thought turned serious when a surprise bunt came. Kang Yoon-woo grabbed the ball, Park Si-woo threw perfectly, and the batter was out.
Cha Jae-hoon glanced at Moon Kyung-joo. Even if it was nine-run difference, a bunt like that was clearly provocative.
“Seriously?”
“...Why?”
“Why? Asking because you don’t know?”
The inning ended, but Cha Jae-hoon and Moon Kyung-joo didn’t immediately return. Attention was drawn. Kim Min-ki hurriedly called Cha Jae-hoon, who exhaled and headed to the dugout.
The Marines dugout was eerily quiet.
Then Park Si-woo stood, and everyone followed his gaze. It landed on Cha Jae-hoon.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Of course. Here, sit. It’s warm.”
“No need, I just wanted to thank you.”
“You were mad because of me. I really didn’t know, and you handled defense so well today.”
“…Can I cry?”
“No, maybe not.”
“I’m joking.”
But he wasn’t really. After Moon Kyung-joo’s bunt, Cha Jae-hoon had felt intense emotions: anger, shame, regret, anxiety, tension, and also gratitude.
Famous among fans as the representative man of the Marines, he said:
“I can’t be completely reliable, but I’ll promise this. Any ball coming to me today, I’ll catch. So just throw and trust me.”
“Okay. I’ll trust you.”
It felt surprisingly reassuring.
Ball hit to right field! Players converge! First baseman, right fielder, second baseman! Second baseman! He dives and catches it! Cha Jae-hoon’s amazing defense! Park Si-woo applauds!
That should’ve been caught by the right fielder, but he was too far! Cha Jae-hoon shows incredible skill!
The Challengers still have no hits! And Park Si-woo hasn’t allowed a hit! Only six outs left for the Challengers. The game moves to the bottom of the seventh!
In the seventh, fans gasped at Cha Jae-hoon’s play. He quietly touched gloves with Park Si-woo. Later, fans would call that expression: “After doing something impressive, you quietly want to be recognized and feel proud.”