Chapter 51
Chapter 51
“Hello! I’m pitcher Choi Jin-woo!”
Over the course of a season, roster changes are inevitable.
The Marines had recently sent down a struggling pitcher and called up their first-round pick, Choi Jin-woo, to the first team.
But when someone comes up, it means someone else goes down.
Without realizing it, Song Min-seok found himself staring at the now-empty locker.
“…Senior Yoon-jae got sent down.”
Maybe it was simply the natural course of things.
You can’t keep a pitcher who gives up runs every time he appears forever.
Normally, he wouldn’t have thought much of it.
It happens all the time.
“…Since when did I start thinking like this?”
Even if it happens often, for the person involved, it’s the difference between heaven and hell.
Song Min-seok knew that feeling all too well.
Since his debut, this was the first year he had stayed in the first team for this long.
When he got called up, he prayed he wouldn’t be sent back down. When he was demoted, he forced a bitter smile and pretended to be fine.
It wasn’t just him.
Aside from the starting players, most lived their baseball lives not knowing when they’d be sent down to the minors.
And this year, Song Min-seok wasn’t one of them.
“…Because of Si-woo.”
If not for Park Si-woo, would he even be here?
Of course, Song Min-seok was doing his best.
But working hard alone isn’t enough to stay in the first team.
You have to perform.
And lately, his performance was far from that.
At that moment, the scene from earlier flashed through his mind.
Kim Min-gi smoothly catching Park Si-woo’s pitches.
“…Idiot. What kind of nonsense are you thinking?”
And there was someone who had been watching him for a while.
Kim Min-gi called him in a low voice.
“Song Min-seok.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’ve got some nerve. A rookie shows up and you didn’t even show him around first?”
“Ah… I’m sorry! I’ll go right now!”
“I already had someone else do it. Not good enough. Follow me.”
Tense, Song Min-seok followed him.
“Get into position.”
“Yes, sir!”
As Song Min-seok moved to bow deeply with his arms behind his back, Kim Min-gi panicked and stopped him.
“…Are you insane? Trying to get me in trouble? I said get into your catching stance. Damn it.”
“Ah! Sorry!”
“Stop with the ‘sorry.’ Sigh.”
Once Song Min-seok got into position, Kim Min-gi examined him closely.
“It’s been rough lately, hasn’t it?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah right. After catching Si-woo’s pitches, I get it. It’s no joke, right?”
“…It’s still my job. I’m fine.”
Park Si-woo’s knuckleball didn’t just torment batters.
Even a moment’s lapse in focus and it would vanish from sight.
Song Min-seok had to stay locked in every second during a game.
The mental toll was enormous.
“And it’s not like catchers get recognition like pitchers do. Right?”
“…That’s true.”
“That’s why you’ve got to take care of yourself even more.”
“…Pardon?”
“You need to acknowledge that you’re doing well. Is catching Si-woo’s pitches just ‘a bit hard’? Sure, it feels unfair. When things go well, it’s all the pitcher’s credit. When things go wrong, it’s all the catcher’s fault. But that’s exactly why you need to have your own back.”
After a moment of thought, Song Min-seok nodded.
“Thank you.”
“If you get it, then do it right. Your legs are too narrow. Yeah, like that—so if the ball bounces, you can react immediately.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Don’t just shout. Your stance is off again. Again.”
After correcting his stance for a while, Kim Min-gi left, grumbling.
Then someone approached the exhausted Song Min-seok, who was lying there drenched in sweat.
“You okay?”
“How’d you know to come?”
“Senior Park Hyun-woo said you were getting destroyed by Kim Min-gi and told me to hurry. Here, water.”
“Thanks.”
As Park Si-woo sat beside him naturally, Song Min-seok pushed himself up.
For some reason, he found himself smiling.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Just because.”
Maybe it was the sweat, maybe Kim Min-gi’s advice.
Or maybe it was because of Park Si-woo beside him—but the mess in his head had cleared.
“What did you talk about with Senior Kim Min-gi?”
“Nothing much. Just… you know how I’ve been lately.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“…You agree a bit too easily, don’t you?”
“But it doesn’t mean you’re bad at baseball.”
“…Right?”
“And you’re good.”
Maybe because his mind felt clearer than usual, words he normally wouldn’t say came out.
“Me? Come on, I’m only here because of you.”
“Yeah. And that’s your skill. You’re still here because of it. You can’t ignore that.”
Song Min-seok thought for a moment, then nodded slightly.
“That’s true. Thanks. Oh right, the breaking balls?”
“I’m going to take my time with that. It’s not urgent.”
Park Si-woo was still young and had time.
And that applied to Song Min-seok as well.
13 wins, 0 losses. ERA 0.17.
Anyone who saw Park Si-woo’s stats couldn’t help but be stunned.
But even those numbers didn’t fully capture his value.
“Then use him for three straight games!”
“If you can win, you rack up wins now!”
“Yeah, but what if the bullpen collapses after getting overworked?”
“You manage when you have room to manage!”
A recent debate among Marines fans.
One side argued for maximizing wins while momentum was high, the other emphasized the long season.
It all started with the last game.
In the away series against the Incheon Stars, the Marines had split the first two games.
For the third, they sent out Lee Dong-hoon.
He pitched well—seven innings, three runs—but the bullpen collapsed.
Manager Kwak Gu-beom chose Choi Seung-ho over Park Hyun-woo, who would’ve been pitching his third consecutive game.
Choi Seung-ho failed to record a single out and gave up the loss.
“How’s Seung-ho?”
“Told him to clear his head for a bit.”
If Park Hyun-woo had pitched, maybe the result would’ve been different.
But the manager was firm.
“If even one of them burns out, we’re in trouble.”
Park Hyun-woo and Park Jung-won, the core of the bullpen, were being carefully managed.
Of course, this decision was possible because of one player.
Park Si-woo.
He consistently pitched at least eight innings every game, minimizing bullpen fatigue.
And more importantly—
“There weren’t any easy matchups.”
Most opposing pitchers against Park Si-woo were foreign aces or domestic number ones.
And he beat them all.
That made life easier for the other starters, while opposing teams burned their best arms against him.
Still, there were concerns.
“How’s Min-seok?”
“Kim Min-gi’s been taking care of him.”
There was no real backup catcher for Park Si-woo.
Kim Min-gi was learning to handle the knuckleball, but that was just a contingency plan.
Only Song Min-seok could truly form a battery with him.
And lately, he had been struggling.
“Let’s watch for now.”
Time passed, and it was Park Si-woo’s start.
An away series against the Seoul Friends.
After losing Game 1, the Marines had to win Game 2.
But the Friends made a bold move.
“Not Drake McNeil… Choi Ji-seung?”
Instead of their ace, they started a substitute pitcher.
Avoid Park Si-woo entirely and aim to win the series the next day.
Facing him head-on just wasn’t worth it.
And so, the game began.
Top of the first, the Marines went down quietly.
“Whatever.”
That didn’t bother the fans.
Not when Park Si-woo was pitching.
“Ah… this is relaxing.”
“When’s defense? Just score one run and let’s go.”
But…
By the fifth inning, the Marines still hadn’t scored.
And at the center of it—
Song Min-seok.
0-for-2.
A strikeout with a runner on third.
Then a double play right after a hit.
And yet, no one could suggest replacing him.
Because replacing him meant replacing Park Si-woo.
“Just score one run!”
“Min-seok! Get it together!”
He heard it all.
“…I see.”
But it didn’t shake him.
“I’m doing fine.”
He had doubted himself for a moment.
But then—
“What do you think about my fastball today?”
“…Huh? Fastball? It’s good.”
“Really? Still, let’s go more with the knuckleball next inning. The fastball feels a bit flat.”
“…Yeah. Let’s do that.”
“Thanks.”
That was it.
No criticism. No concern.
Just trust.
“…Or maybe he doesn’t expect anything from me?”
No. That wasn’t like him.
“Right. I’m doing fine.”
He reframed it.
“I wasn’t picked for my hitting anyway.”
He was a sixth-round pick.
Defense was his strength.
Arm, framing, blocking.
And most importantly—
He was the only one who could catch Park Si-woo.
“…That’s not bad.”
His mind cleared.
Confidence filled him.
And soon—
Top of the 7th.
Two outs.
Runners on.
Song Min-seok stepped up.
“…Just like last year.”
He remembered.
This pitcher favored breaking balls in this situation.
“Ball!”
One.
“Ball!”
Two.
“Ball!”
Three.
Everyone knew what was coming.
Strike.
And then—
Crack!
He swung.
“What the hell is he doing?!”
Three-ball swing?
If he got out, he’d be torn apart.
But—
“…You crazy bastard.”
It was gone.
A home run.
As he returned, teammates hit him half in anger, half in relief.
“You idiot! You swing at that?!”
“Well done!”
Kim Min-gi asked quietly.
“What were you thinking?”
“Well… you guys have to keep using me because of Si-woo anyway.”
“…True.”
“I’m doing my part, so I just went for it. There’ll be more chances.”
It made sense.
“Ugh!”
“You need to get hit a bit more.”
And he did.