Chapter 42
Chapter 42
“Do you think it looks okay?”
“Yes. Thanks to that, I think it’s okay now.”
Lee Dong-hoon stared at Park Hyun-woo, who was showing an inexplicable confidence.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
Even a machine-level performance could be matched by that robotic act, so where does that kind of confidence come from?
‘No, maybe seeing that actually made me relax because it was so absurd.’
Either way, it was good.
The current Marines were solidly united around Park Si-woo.
It wasn’t that he wanted to add pressure, but if Park Si-woo faltered, it was obvious what would happen to the Marines without their anchor.
‘And there’s plenty else I owe them.’
Helping with Lee Dong-hoon’s routines, being able to confidently say “we’ll win,” and so many other things.
Acting was a little embarrassing, but this was nothing.
‘After all, it’s just us doing it.’
However, there was one thing Lee Dong-hoon didn’t know: On-ae had secretly recorded the moment on video even during the away game.
Unaware of that, Lee Dong-hoon just watched Park Si-woo from afar, a satisfied smile on his face.
He wasn’t the only one thinking this way.
‘Maybe I should pinch-hit later.’
Kim Min-ki, who had rallied the team and boosted morale,
‘Should I have explained it in more detail?’
Oh Kyung-soo, who had shared his personal tips for keeping runners in check.
Each of them tried to help Park Si-woo in their own way, and it was enough.
Of course, not everyone was acting entirely freely, but
‘Si-woo, even if I’m a little off at the plate, no. I’ll show it at the plate and help in the field too, so don’t feel pressured. Ah, this feels weird.’
Cha Jae-hoon, keeping a proper distance from Park Si-woo, was still thinking of what to say.
Even that was reduced to just a high-five and a “Nice pitching” when Park Si-woo returned to the dugout after the inning.
Still, the feeling got across.
“Hyun-woo, Seung-ho. Just in case, go to the bullpen.”
“Yes, sir.”
In the top of the fifth, when the offense failed to score, Pitching Coach Park Seung-hyuk sent Park Hyun-woo and Choi Seung-ho to the bullpen.
Since Park Si-woo was pitching, today’s game had to be won no matter what.
Although it was unfortunate that the record was broken, that meant the closer could be used aggressively.
At the same time, they planned to pull Park Si-woo at the right moment.
‘It’s about time he gets a break.’
Even for a knuckleballer, pitching nine innings every game—or 18 innings last week—was taxing.
Manager Kwak Gu-beom wasn’t planning to overuse Park Si-woo just because he was a knuckleballer.
‘If it weren’t for the record, he’d have been taken out already.’
Park Si-woo wasn’t just the present pillar of the Marines; he had been the team’s mainstay for years.
Rather than using him hastily, they managed him according to the same rotation and standards as other starters.
“At this pace, he’ll reach 100 pitches around the seventh inning.”
“Yes. We’ll prepare accordingly.”
Early on, the Wolves’ strategy had worked, increasing the pitch count significantly.
Even as Manager Kwak Gu-beom watched and decided the strategy,
“Strikeout!”
Hearing the umpire’s third identical call this inning, he asked Coach Park Seung-hyuk,
“How many in a row is that?”
“Six consecutive batters.”
‘…Maybe.’
The thought crossed his mind that Park Si-woo might not be taken out for other reasons.
I thought I understood the knuckleball fairly well.
But I didn’t.
Through the first three innings, I couldn’t even get the ball close to the zone. Now, no matter how I threw, it headed right near the strike zone.
It wasn’t just because the rain stopped; the change was dramatic.
I figured today’s weather must be having an effect.
“Hyung, even if they get a hit, let’s go aggressively.”
“Should we?”
Whatever the reason, when batters can’t adjust, it’s best to challenge them quickly.
In the bottom of the sixth, the score was still 0-1.
At this point, batters could be divided into three types: swing recklessly without care, stick to their routine no matter what, or wait to capitalize on a chance.
The ninth batter, Park In-tae, belonged to the latter.
He waited as long as he could before swinging when the count became unfavorable.
This type of batter can be pushed to the corners when the pitcher falters, but normally,
“Strike!”
“Strike!”
This type of approach often leads to giving up easy counts.
Two consecutive strikes with the hard knuckleball.
When both balls hit the outside edge against the left-handed batter, Park In-tae instinctively moved closer to the plate.
Hyung Min-seok noticed and adjusted slightly outward.
If he’s focused on the outside,
“Strikeout!”
Throwing further outside works.
Park In-tae’s lack of strong batting skills made this possible, but the pitch movement itself was excellent.
The ball moved outward and stayed there.
Even if Min-seok couldn’t catch it cleanly, he recovered and threw to first base.
Now, the lineup had cycled twice.
It was Kang Jae-sung’s third matchup.
First at-bat: watched and struck out. Previous at-bat: took advantage of a mistake for a sacrifice fly.
As KBO’s top hitters, Kang Jae-sung also relied heavily on his legs.
Even a sacrifice fly might not have worked if it had been another batter.
This time, Min-seok and I agreed.
No need to aim for the zone precisely against this kind of batter.
Flying near the zone is enough to make him swing.
Whoosh.
“Strike!”
The ball started in the strike zone, but after Kang Jae-sung swung, the gap between bat and ball was at least four balls.
Confusion spread across Kang Jae-sung’s face.
The second pitch was another knuckleball to induce a swing.
“Strike!”
He held back on the swing.
But the low outside pitch counted as a strike.
The next pitch was easy.
“Ball!”
“Ball!”
“Strikeout!”
By keeping count and throwing the knuckleball until a swing came, he eventually gave in.
The next batter was easier, having failed to time early pitches.
“Strikeout!”
By now, the knuckleball’s movement had intensified.
Even Hyung Min-seok had to stretch to catch it; the batter was helpless.
“Hyung.”
“Uh, yes?”
“What are you doing?”
I approached briefly to speak, and Hyung Min-seok hurriedly hid something in his back pocket.
“Nothing.”
I knew Min-seok sometimes kept balls, so I didn’t care much.
But it seemed like there were a few more balls than usual.
“Strikeout! Park Si-woo strikes out Oh Seong-jin, recording nine consecutive strikeouts!”
“Usually when a record is broken, most players falter, but Park Si-woo is boldly challenging another record!”
“Let’s see what record Park Si-woo can set after the top of the seventh, Marines’ attack!”
The Marines’ batters had been tightly controlled by Wolves’ starter Nate Nash.
They weren’t completely shut down; seven batters reached base, including three times for the leadoff hitter.
But two double plays cut the momentum, and other opportunities weren’t capitalized on.
At the start of the seventh, Manager Kwak Gu-beom made a decisive move.
“Kwak Gu-beom is using the Kim Min-ki card!”
To change the pitcher-dominated flow, veteran Kim Min-ki pinch-hit.
“If Kim Min-ki can just reach base, the Marines’ top order can connect.”
“Strike!”
Kim Min-ki let the first pitch go.
‘Don’t swing.’
His goal was to reach base.
He calmly worked the count to two and three, then
Slightly pulled the crowded pitch and lightly hit it.
The ball went between first and second baseman.
Kim Min-ki reached first base. His role was done.
As he was replaced by a pinch runner, the Wolves responded.
“The Wolves are changing pitchers!”
‘We don’t need more runs.’
Even after the record was broken, Park Si-woo kept dominating.
It didn’t matter; the Wolves were leading.
‘We just need to finish this.’
The Wolves’ bullpen had the capability.
Manager Kwak Gu-beom responded accordingly.
“Hwang Seo-jun is preparing a bunt!”
‘If we tie, we gain advantage.’
Park Si-woo would defend the mound while Park Hyun-woo and Park Jeong-won handled the bullpen battle.
It was a fight between protecting the lead and extracting more.
The first victory went to Manager Kwak.
“First base!”
Hwang Seo-jun’s stable bunt moved the runner to second.
One out, runner on second.
Next up was Cha Jae-hoon, appearing nervous.
He knew his low performance with runners in scoring position.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
Behind him were Ha Seo-jin and Rex, waiting.
Although the pitcher had no choice but to face him, Cha Jae-hoon loosened his stiff body.
The first pitch.
Whoosh.
“Strike!”
The bat cut through the air, Wolves fans cheered.
The second pitch was similar.
“Strike! Wolves’ Lee Yong-woo has a favorable count!”
0-2.
The batter intentionally held back to set up the next pitch.
At that moment, the rain, which had stopped, hit the pitcher’s neck with a single drop.
A slight flinch.
But that made a huge difference.
Cha Jae-hoon lifted a ball perfectly down the middle, casually watched it, dropped the bat, and started running to first.
After the home run, Cha Jae-hoon’s expression didn’t matter.
That one swing reversed the score.
The Marines hoped for more runs, but it ended at two.
In the bottom of the seventh, Park Si-woo returned to the mound.
One strikeout would tie the Korean record; two would set a new one.
The third batter, Park Moon-ho, the trigger for this streak, stepped up.
Victory and record—there was so much to focus on.
But he simplified his thinking.
‘One hit can tie the game and break the record.’
Park Moon-ho gripped the bat tightly, trying desperately to hit the knuckleball.
But the luck that favored Cha Jae-hoon didn’t come to Park Moon-ho.
“Strikeout!”
Ten consecutive strikeouts! Park Si-woo etched his name once again.
Next target: Victor Lowell.
Victor Lowell chose differently from Park Moon-ho.
He focused on reaching base.
Walks could also break the record and score runs.
First pitch.
“Strike!”
The ball dropped far outside low but was called a strike.
“Shit!”
He knew it.
With ABS in play, arguing was pointless.
Second pitch.
“Strike!”
A low inside pitch that seemed impossible to hit was called a strike. He couldn’t help it.
“Fucking can.”
Victor Lowell, using words taught by a teammate, waited for the next pitch.
‘This has to be a ball.’
The pitch came straight at face height.
Victor Lowell, fully concentrated, followed the ball’s trajectory but his eyes turned to panic.
‘Why is this happening?’
The ball dropped sharply.
He was already too late to swing.
All he could hope for was that the damn ABS would favor him.
But the umpire called:
“Strikeout!”
Eleven consecutive strikeouts.
Victor Lowell returned to the dugout, stunned, tracing the ball’s path.
“This… Sibal.”
Outside bottom corner, inside bottom corner, outside top corner.
A perfect triangular trajectory left him speechless.