Chapter 36
Chapter 36
No one was unaware of what was happening at Sajik Stadium right now.
Some were trying to help Park Si-woo, others trying to break him.
Among all these different intentions, the Marines’ dugout was taking it a little too far.
“Just swing carelessly. If the at-bat drags on and Si-woo’s shoulder cools, you’re taking responsibility? Ah, he’s a knuckleballer, never mind. Anyway, hurry up and die.”
That thought was quietly summarized as “Nice” by Cha Jae-hoon.
Other players barely dared to breathe, afraid even a hint of emotion might influence Park Si-woo.
And Park Si-woo, under everyone’s gaze, was watching the game with a calm expression.
He knew exactly what this game meant and how much was at stake.
He had first seen the scoreboard when Cha Jae-hoon and Moon Kyung-joo had a scuffle at first base. That moment answered all questions—the reason they fought, why the Challengers’ batters swung so desperately, everything.
No-hitter.
As a pitcher, it would be a lie to say he didn’t care about the record. When opportunity comes, you seize it.
Still, even thinking about the record, he didn’t care much.
By the same logic, a consecutive shutout or zero runs allowed was just as important. Some records were even rarer than a no-hitter. Nothing had really changed.
“Hyung, we’ll keep the pitch selection the same?”
“…Huh? Yeah, yeah, of course.”
Park Si-woo looked at Song Min-seok, who was hesitating. He wasn’t the only one who realized the importance after the earlier commotion. But there was no need to worry. In truth, there might not have even been time to worry.
“Min-seok, come here for a sec.”
Song Min-seok was called over to Kim Min-ki. Now Park Si-woo didn’t need to think about anything. He just had to do what he had done all along.
In the top of the eighth, Park Si-woo was back on the mound for the Marines. The Challengers had only six chances left. Park Si-woo and the Marines had only six outs remaining.
Song Min-seok, disciplined by Kim Min-ki, adjusted the pitch computer.
“Keep the same pitch selection.”
First pitch, knuckleball.
Park Si-woo opened his glove to mark the course clearly, then threw.
A slow pitch barely over 110 km/h.
The batter’s swing cut through the air, but Song Min-seok stayed focused and caught it.
“Strike!”
He nodded and returned the ball. Second pitch, also a knuckleball.
Foul!
The ball bounced off the bat, striking Song Min-seok’s unprotected thigh.
“You okay, catcher?”
“Yes, I’m fine!”
Song Min-seok gritted his teeth through the pain.
The important thing wasn’t the pain. The flow of the pitch couldn’t be broken.
Strikeout!
The commentators, even the neutral ones, marveled. First out recorded, and the infielders stepped back.
The sixth batter, Kang Joo-won, was a slow, typical hitter. The Challengers’ manager wanted one big hit to break the record, while the Marines wanted to confine every ball to the infield.
Another out recorded, and the last batter of the eighth came up. Strikeout swinging. A hard knuckleball inside, near the head. Even the hitting coach, who normally scolded, patted the batter’s shoulder in awe. The pitch was just too good.
The inning ended with two strikeouts and an amazing defensive play by Yoo Jung-woo.
“Strikeout. Two strikeouts and a stellar play from Yoo Jung-woo to end the inning. Now, after a short break, the Marines will bat in the bottom of the eighth.”
Jung Se-won turned away from the screen with a sigh.
“Professional players swing at that? Ha. If I were active, phew.”
“…Senior, are you okay?”
“Does that look okay to you?”
After venting his frustration on his junior and colleague, he asked, “So far, how much have we accumulated?”
“All together, just under ten million won.”
“…Ha. Fine. Get out.”
The coffee truck he had promised at the end of the third inning had started it all. By the fourth, viewers began teasing him online. Even though the Mariners had only been a team he played with for three months late in his career, he was still donating ten million won.
‘I’m insane,’ he thought.
People only cared about the issue. Send a coffee truck to appease them, sort out the rest with the club, and they’d forget. Using this as a chance to connect with Park Si-woo wasn’t a bad idea.
Park Si-woo versus Jung Se-won, luck versus luck.
For now it was 1-0, but eventually Park Si-woo would allow a run.
“Okay, let’s take a short break and review the game…”
“Senior.”
“…Don’t you see we’re live?”
“The Mariners contacted me.”
“…The Mariners?”
He quickly muted his mic, though people had already heard.
“…Yes, this is Jung Se-won.”
“This is Jae-hyuk Cho, operations manager of Busan Marines. I watched the broadcast. Seeing you support our Park Si-woo, we couldn’t ignore it.”
Jung Se-won didn’t realize the Mariners were monitoring his broadcast in real time. Every time he cheered for Park Si-woo, he had suffered quietly. Especially after yesterday’s broadcast, a few staff had been grinding their teeth at him.
“I heard you’re sending a coffee truck, pizza, twenty Park Si-woo jerseys, and supporting a team dinner.”
“…Yes, that’s right.”
“Let’s coordinate the schedule slowly.”
No matter what, he planned to make sure he received everything he mentioned. That day, ten million won was withdrawn from Jung Se-won’s account. In exchange, he received just one article.
Thank you, Senior Jung Se-won! The coffee truck has arrived at Sajik!