Chapter 48
Chapter 48
The moment Park Si-woo’s throw lodged into first baseman Kang Yoon-woo’s mitt, everyone froze.
“…Yes. There was an incredible throw from Park Si-woo.”
Even the caster, who had to organize the situation, fell silent for a moment in shock.
The exact velocity hadn’t been recorded, but even at a glance, it was on a completely different level from Park Si-woo’s usual speed.
It wasn’t uncommon for pitchers to make throws like that.
What mattered was that it came from Park Si-woo.
“As far as I know, Park Si-woo hasn’t thrown a pitch over 140 kilometers per hour even once since the second half of 2035. But that throw just now clearly looked well over 140. Commentator, could it be that Park Si-woo has regained his velocity?”
“…I’m not sure. But if you look now, even Manager Kwak Gu-beom seems surprised. He’s rushing to the mound.”
The moment he saw the throw, Kwak Gu-beom sent pitching coach Park Seung-hyuk to call Oliver.
Then he walked to the mound himself.
“What just happened?”
“…I’m not sure either. I just threw it the way I caught it…”
After quickly assessing the situation, Kwak Gu-beom set his priorities.
“Finish this inning with knuckleballs only. Let’s talk with Oliver afterward.”
“Yes, sir.”
The manager stepped down, and the game resumed.
The field was still unsettled.
But the confusion wasn’t limited to the Marines.
“He couldn’t throw fastballs, right?”
“And now he’s mixing in four-seamers here?”
The Aces hitters couldn’t get that throw out of their heads.
To some, it might have seemed like just a normal throw.
But Park Si-woo was a monster pitcher writing unbelievable records.
Even that throw made the hitters wonder if it meant something.
And as if punishing them for thinking about anything else, the knuckleball began to dance.
“Strikeout!”
Crack!
“Out!”
In an instant, the top of the sixth inning was over.
Park Si-woo returned to the dugout.
“Si-woo.”
Oliver was waiting there, his face full of anticipation.
“Can you explain what just happened?”
“Well… I caught the ball, and somehow I ended up gripping it as a four-seam. It felt too late to change it, so I just threw it. And… that’s what happened.”
“Good. How did it feel when you threw it? What about your elbow?”
“It felt the same as usual. But Oliver… is this okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“We said we’d try it after a month.”
At that, Oliver let out a small laugh.
“Of course it’s not okay. When you threw that, I got chills all over my body. It was thrilling.”
“…What?”
“Isn’t it amazing? My hypothesis has been proven. Of course, we’ll need to keep observing and refining it, but… I still have goosebumps.”
Oliver rubbed his arms with both hands.
“Of course, we had a plan, but it doesn’t matter. Science is the result of countless attempts and coincidences.”
If he hadn’t gripped the four-seam at that moment, or if Park Si-woo had chosen not to throw—
This result would never have happened.
“We can talk about that later. You said there’s no discomfort, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then how about trying it again?”
“Right now?”
“I’m not telling you to throw hard. Even if you do, it won’t help much. It felt a bit unfamiliar when you threw it, didn’t it?”
“…Not really.”
“That’s fine. When you throw knuckleballs, the old sensations tend to fade. Let’s just throw about five lightly today. Even then, it’ll probably feel like 95 miles per hour to the hitters.”
“Okay.”
Park Si-woo nodded, but there was one thing he didn’t say.
“…It didn’t feel strange at all.”
Even though it had been so long, the four-seam had felt completely natural.
As if he had thrown it just yesterday.
As Oliver continued explaining, he gave one last piece of advice before Park Si-woo returned to the mound.
“Remember. If anything feels off, signal immediately. Trust your instincts.”
“Thank you.”
As Park Si-woo headed to the mound, the other players grew tense as well.
They hadn’t heard everything, but they knew he was going to throw a four-seam.
Standing on the mound, Park Si-woo took a breath.
The timing had already been set with Song Min-seok.
First pitch.
“Four-seam. Outside.”
After giving the sign, Song Min-seok set his mitt wide outside.
Park Si-woo began his motion.
Unlike his light knuckleball delivery, he took a full pitching form.
The batter immediately realized this wasn’t a knuckleball.
“This is better.”
No matter what pitch it was, it had to be easier than the unpredictable knuckleball.
He prepared to swing.
Thwack!
The ball exploded into the mitt before he could react.
Everyone in the stadium turned to the scoreboard.
149 km/h.
The crowd erupted.
The meaning was simple.
Park Si-woo was back.
Not quite the 155 km/h he threw in his rookie year, but close enough to show that level could return.
The batter stepped out quickly, shaken.
His head spun.
He had known it was a four-seam.
But he couldn’t move.
When he finally reset and stepped back in—
“Strike!”
Park Si-woo went right back to throwing knuckleballs.
“…What a ridiculous way to play baseball.”
The batter swung hard and returned to the dugout.
“…I’m really glad he’s on our team.”
Kim Min-gi and the other hitters in the dugout were thankful they didn’t have to face that.
A knuckleball alone was nearly impossible to hit.
And now he added a 150 km/h four-seam.
And it wasn’t even fully refined.
What would it be like once it was?
The players shuddered at the thought.
Meanwhile, Oliver, who had been waiting for this moment more than anyone, stood frozen.
“How is that even possible…”
Throwing both a knuckleball and standard pitches was possible.
But throwing both at a high level wasn’t.
The knuckleball required suppressing spin.
The four-seam required maximizing it.
These opposing sensations interfered with each other.
That’s why mastering both was considered impossible.
Oliver had expected Park Si-woo’s four-seam to be around the low 140s, or even if it reached 150, to lack control.
But that pitch had hit near Song Min-seok’s target.
There was only one conclusion.
“He can separate pitch types.”
After a moment, Oliver calmed himself.
“…Maybe it’s not that strange.”
From the moment he first threw a knuckleball, Park Si-woo’s was already complete.
He had modified his grip on his own to create a hard knuckleball.
He had even mastered pickoff techniques just by hearing explanations.
Considering his track record, maybe this wasn’t impossible.
“…I’ve lost my mind too.”
Oliver discarded his previous plan.
Originally, he intended to have Park Si-woo choose a primary pitch after regaining velocity.
But—
“If he can throw both, that changes everything.”
A 150 km/h or faster four-seam.
And a 110 to 130 km/h knuckleball.
No one would give up that combination.
At the same time, a new hypothesis formed.
What if his loss of velocity was connected to this moment?
“Oliver?”
He hadn’t even noticed Park Si-woo returning.
“How does your body feel?”
“Good. No soreness.”
“What about your wrist? Did it feel heavy or stiff when throwing the four-seam?”
“…I’m not sure.”
That confirmed it further.
For knuckleball pitchers, the biggest difference when throwing a four-seam was the wrist.
One required snapping it.
The other required keeping it firm.
But Park Si-woo felt no difference.
Oliver wanted to ask more, but held back after seeing his expression.
This could wait.
“Si-woo. You said you feel good, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s increase your four-seam count a bit. Around ten pitches.”
“…Is that okay?”
“Yes. It’ll be fine.”
Park Si-woo smiled brightly.
For the Aces hitters, it was a death sentence.
It was fun.
How long had it been since he truly enjoyed being on the mound?
Since before the injury.
Even after the trade, worries about Choi Myung-jun and his velocity had lingered.
But now, everything was resolved.
Baseball was fun again.
Knuckleball and four-seam.
Index finger and middle finger.
The same fingers, yet completely different results.
First, the knuckleball.
He placed his fingers on top and snapped at release.
The ball wobbled and dropped, toying with Ha Joo-hyung’s swing.
“Strike!”
The next sign came immediately.
“Four-seam.”
This time, his fingers rested along the seams.
He knew it wasn’t perfect yet.
But it didn’t matter.
The knuckleball would blind the batter.
His fingertips scraped the seams.
A sensation he hadn’t felt in so long surged through his arm.
The ball spun rapidly, cutting past the bat.
Thwack!
“Strike!”
A swing and miss on a pitch down the middle.
He wanted to throw only four-seams.
But the game wasn’t over.
They had scored two runs in the eighth, but it wasn’t enough.
The four-seam was just to show.
Though it felt like the roles had reversed.
“Strikeout!”
The knuckleball finished it.
Ha Joo-hyung stared, his eyes still burning.
But only two outs remained.
They wouldn’t meet again today.
The next batter fell to a mix of knuckleballs and hard knuckleballs.
Now, the final batter.
Before the inning, Park Si-woo had told Song Min-seok—
If there were no runners, he wanted to face the last batter with only four-seams.
It was Gary Olson.
A slugger with 43 home runs last season.
Not an easy opponent.
But Park Si-woo wanted to try.
First pitch, outside.
Crack!
“Foul!”
A rocket down the third-base line.
Just a bit cleaner, and it would’ve been gone.
But he didn’t worry about what hadn’t happened.
Second pitch.
Crack!
“Foul!”
The timing was there.
But so was his control.
His body remembered everything.
Thwack!
“Strikeout!”
Park Si-woo’s velocity had returned.
The news spread instantly.
“What is this?”
“That throw didn’t look normal.”
“No way… did his velocity come back?”
“What the hell did he do in two weeks?”
“Breaking: Park Si-woo throws 149 km/h four-seam first pitch.”
“That’s cheating.”
“A knuckleballer throwing 149?”
“Is this real?”
“The pitch looks insane.”
“Try hitting that after a knuckleball.”
“There’s a difference between his knuckleball motion and this.”
“If we can see it, hitters definitely can.”
“Then why can’t they hit it?”
“Imagine being dizzy from knuckleballs and then getting 150 thrown at you.”
“Found his old four-seam clip.”
“Wait, why is the opponent the Marines?”
“Kim Min-gi striking out and cursing.”
“Did they know back then he’d wear a Marines uniform and throw 150 again?”
“That pitch is on another level.”
“He had national team ace vibes.”
“And Phoenix couldn’t get him a single win?”
“Park Si-woo strikes out Gary Olson, complete game shutout, final pitch 153 km/h.”
“153 after nine innings? Seriously?”
“He mostly threw knuckleballs early.”
“He’s basically fully recovered.”
“He just overpowered him.”
“110 km/h knuckleball into 155 km/h fastball?”
“Is that even possible?”
“There’s video, so yeah.”
“This might be the first pitcher like this in history.”
“Is it really that big?”
“People are overreacting.”
“Si-woo. A pitcher like you… will probably remain unique until the end of baseball.”
“…What?”