Chapter 41
Chapter 41
“Just perfect, isn’t it?”
“Okay. Let’s start quickly before it pours harder.”
At my words, Minseok covered his face with the mitt and ran out.
It wasn’t rain heavy enough to cancel the game, but it wasn’t negligible either.
Exactly the amount I wanted.
“Starting with the knuckleball?”
“Yes. I’ll start right away.”
Normally, I would have thrown in the indoor pitching room, but practicing in the rain like this helps me stay calm in an actual game.
I had already warmed up enough, so I immediately threw, putting strength into my two fingers.
Hmm, if I throw like this in a real game, it would probably sail right over.
The ball rotated just enough to be perfectly hit into the mitt.
Did I grip it too tightly because of the rain, making it even firmer?
First, I coated my fingers with plenty of rosin.
“That was amazing just now!”
Fortunately, my expectations were correct.
But while throwing, I realized that to throw a knuckleball like usual, I needed to cover my fingertips so much that they were barely visible.
But doing this comes with a lot of sacrifices.
The biggest issue is losing fingertip sensitivity.
I’m throwing the same baseball, but it feels completely different.
Sometimes the ball doesn’t rotate, and it just comes in flat.
Hoo, not easy.
Still, the hard knuckleball wasn’t bad.
Even without trying too hard, I could get about 80% of my usual pitch.
“The weather’s bound to affect it, huh?”
“I knew that, but experiencing it firsthand isn’t easy.”
Oliver chuckled slightly at my complaint.
“What’s wrong?”
“Siwoo finally feels like a normal knuckleball pitcher now.”
“…That’s a compliment, right?”
“Yes. Don’t worry too much. Even if it wasn’t today, it was a question I’d have to face eventually. Maybe it’s even better I realized it today. There’s no rain forecast two days from now.”
As he said, my next pitching appearance would be in two days.
Of course, with knuckleballs, the next pitch is always unpredictable.
Still, today’s experience was meaningful.
I never know when it might rain on my pitching day.
That was the purpose from the start.
“…You said it wouldn’t rain.”
But that didn’t mean I wanted it like this.
I knew the weather had been erratic lately, but I didn’t expect such a sudden change.
“But isn’t this enough to cancel the game?”
“Right.”
It had been raining steadily for the past two days.
Even without rain, the field conditions alone could have caused a cancellation.
But the umpire occasionally looked at the sky as game time approached without giving any further explanation.
Soon, Pitching Coach Park Seunghyuk came over after confirming with the umpire.
“Siwoo. Time to get ready.”
“Coach. They said we’ll proceed as planned.”
“Good. Let’s do it as prepared.”
Gwangju Wolves’ manager Lee Junghwan nodded at the awaited news.
The authority to cancel a game due to rain belongs to the KBO umpire supervisor.
However, the home team could influence the decision under certain circumstances.
Of course, if rain made cancellation certain, there’d be no use. But on a day like today, the Wolves’ efforts shone.
After yesterday’s game ended, they immediately covered the field with waterproof tarps, and staff started field maintenance at dawn.
And this was all Lee Junghwan’s determination.
“This game must be played today.”
If anyone knew Lee Junghwan’s thoughts, they might have thought he was crazy.
And rightly so—the Marins’ starting pitcher was Park Siwoo.
There was no question: Park Siwoo was the best pitcher in the KBO.
The Wolves had also surrendered a shutout to Park Siwoo just a few weeks ago.
But Lee Junghwan’s resolve was firm.
Did he underestimate Park Siwoo? Absolutely not.
He valued Park Siwoo more than anyone.
“Luck? That’s nonsense. His stats aren’t a coincidence.”
Facing him personally made that clear.
Park Siwoo is beyond KBO level.
And when facing a pitcher like that, you cannot fight under equal conditions.
That’s why Lee Junghwan chose today.
“A day that maximizes the knuckleball’s disadvantage.”
The Wolves had researched all available data on how rain affects knuckleballers, including records of famous ones.
They found that knuckleballers’ performance drops significantly in rain.
Of course, it was all from Major League data.
There are differences between Korea and the U.S., and each stadium has unique conditions, but some insights still applied.
“If we win, there’s a lot to gain.”
If Park Siwoo maintains these stats until the end of the season, the Marins’ record would likely remain strong.
Then they would have to face him in the postseason.
Avoiding him during the regular season could mean getting crushed on the most important stage.
“We have to beat him at least once in the regular season.”
The risk of one loss now is smaller than in the postseason—it’s the perfect time to gamble.
Last year, Lee Junghwan gave his players confidence using the same method.
“It was especially helpful against Choi Myungjun.”
The Wolves’ two victories over Choi Myungjun in the Korean Series were no coincidence.
They had broken him during the regular season, and that confidence carried them through.
“Okay, everyone. Remember everything I said? Let’s stick to it. One, two, three.”
“Hey!”
The Wolves’ batters were brimming with confidence.
They only had to get past it once.
The sharp fangs would bite next.
In the top of the first, the Marins’ batters failed to score.
Soon, Kang Jaesung, entrusted with perhaps the most crucial task, took a deep breath.
His role was simple: observe the ball as much as possible.
“Strikeout!”
Even if the result was a strikeout, Kang Jaesung immediately headed to Lee Junghwan.
“How is it?”
“Still good. But the knuckleball is dropping a lot.”
Following him, the next batters collected sufficient data.
Lee Junghwan made his decision.
“Today, the knuckleball isn’t controllable.”
Park Siwoo faced six batters, throwing 18 hard knuckleballs and five knuckleballs.
All five knuckleballs were balls.
Recognizing this, Lee Junghwan changed his strategy immediately.
“Forget the knuckleball.”
Park Siwoo’s pitches were two types: a 110 km/h knuckleball and a 130 km/h hard knuckleball.
His true weapon was this hellish binary choice.
“But if you can discard one, it changes everything.”
Other knuckleballers mix fastballs or other breaking balls for a reason.
Relying on only one type has limits.
Of course, that doesn’t make the hard knuckleball easy to handle.
-Wham!
“Go!”
Bottom of the third, one out, bases loaded.
One point was scored through a hit, steal, bunt, and sacrifice fly, and the Wolves erupted in cheers.
Finally, the record was broken.
Even Park Siwoo can give up runs.
And that one point would become two, then three, I was sure.
It’s tough, indeed.
When I threw my first knuckleball on the mound today, I knew the game would be difficult.
I tried to hide it as much as possible, but the Wolves noticed faster than expected.
“We’ll have to hold up with hard knuckleballs until we can control the knuckleball.”
“Alright. Let’s do that.”
I had a brief chat with Minseok and sat down.
The record was broken.
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t disappointed.
But it was a record that would break eventually, even if not today.
Now was the time to think about how to handle the remaining innings.
Pitching to hit the strike zone is risky, better to focus on the outside…
“Ah, oh, this seat’s open.”
“Shall I sit here?”
Then, seniors Lee Donghoon and Park Hyunwoo awkwardly acted like they were joining me.
“Hyunwoo, remember?”
“Ah, you mean when senior set the Marins’ debut record of 17 scoreless innings?”
“Yes. I had a moment like that too.”
…What?
“When the record was broken, I thought the world was ending. I learned something from that. The world doesn’t really collapse.”
“You’re amazing, senior. I learn from you again today.”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, Siwoo. Since when were you here?”
“If I were, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
Their eyes met for a moment.
Seeing their expressions, I couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“Neither of you are good at acting.”
“…Really?”
“Hey, I’m not the type to get tied with Donghoon senior. You saw what I did to Hailey back then.”
“Even counting that, Donghoon senior is more… Never mind.”
“After saying all that, you deny it. Wow.”
“Yeah, we should admit the truth.”
They bickered as they moved seats.
Then,
“Later, when covering first base, can you try a half-beat faster?”
“Half-beat?”
“Yes. The Wolves tend to attempt straight steals today. It’s a bit long to explain, but try it if you can. You can do it.”
Senior Oh Kyungsoo quietly came by, gave advice, and left.
And not only that.
“Hey, if you can’t get on base today, handle it yourselves. If there’s an error, get the coach’s permission and I’ll hit fungos myself. Got it?”
“Argh!”
Centered around Kim Minki, the batters made strange noises.
I wasn’t oblivious enough not to understand why all this was happening.
Even if we gave up more runs, the atmosphere was such that a winning pitcher would be ensured.
Yes, as long as we get the winning pitcher.
It felt much lighter. And then,
“Siwoo, I think focusing on the outside is safer today. What do you think?”
“Hyung.”
“Huh?”
“The sun came out.”
During the top of the fourth, the rain stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds.
It was a bright 2 PM game.
“Right.”
“Let’s go.”
The sun coming out didn’t change much.
It just felt good.
The mound was bathed in sunlight, like it was calling me.
In the bottom of the fourth, the Wolves’ attack started with the third batter, Park Munho.
A big and powerful hitter to match his size.
Minseok signaled a hard knuckleball on the first pitch, and he shook his head.
Minseok hesitated a bit.
I understood.
If the knuckleball hit the strike zone by mistake, it could easily become a long hit.
But I had to test it.
Placing my two fingers on the ball, I finally felt the familiar sensation.
Not the wet water balloon feel, but a real baseball.
The ball left my hand, floating lightly.
With that size and swing, it would have been a home run.
But somehow,
“Strike!”
He didn’t seem to make contact. Park Munho’s surprise was obvious.
Second pitch.
The ball arched like a big sloping slider.
Park Munho swung along its path, but
“Strike!”
The ball escaped outside before reaching the bat.
The first two-strike situation I’d handled today.
No intention of prolonging the duel.
I exchanged signs with Minseok for the third pitch.
The ball went to the most dangerous spot.
High and inside, Park Munho’s hot zone near a .400 average.
He swung, but the ball and Minseok’s glove were about a body apart.
“Strikeout!”
Next up was the Wolves’ foreign batter, Victor Lowell.
“Vic-tor! Vic-tor!”
The grand music and Wolves fans’ cheers filled the stadium.
Last season’s 44 home runs, 120 RBIs—he was the main player in upsets.
I had one hit on him today.
“Strike!”
First pitch, he swung at a big dropping knuckleball, missing.
Second pitch was slightly low, a ball.
“Strike!”
Third pitch, similar to the second, but a strike this time.
Probably watching low pitches carefully.
“Ball!”
“Strikeout!”
Fourth pitch, he held off.
Fifth pitch, a nearly identical drop, he swung and missed.
Now the fifth batter, Oh Taemin.
Last season, .287 average, 26 home runs, 89 RBIs.
Overshadowed by Victor Lowell and Park Munho, but a batter to watch against the Wolves.
His strengths and weaknesses were clear.
He never misses medium-height pitches.
But shoulder-height fastballs, especially outside, trigger reflex swings.
I didn’t have a fastball.
But I had a pitch to fulfill that role.
“Strike!”
Oh Taemin, observing the first pitch, aimed for a hard knuckleball at shoulder height.
“Strike!”
He barely missed, now two strikes.
No intention to prolong it further.
I pressed my three fingers on the ball firmly.
It flew outside high to the right, and Oh Taemin reacted.
The ball curved right, then dropped diagonally left.
“Strikeout!”
Oh Taemin’s swing was crisp.
As I entered the dugout,
“Wow. Incredible. If you were a bit later, it would have been raining.”
Rain began pouring again.