Chapter 56
Chapter 56
Siwoo pitched seven scoreless innings at 160km/h.
Wow, this was insane.
Honestly, I prefer this over the knuckleball.
No, I still like the knuckleball. Watching batters swing and miss at 110km/h is just pure fun.
It doesn’t matter if a pitcher throws both a knuckleball and a 160km/h fastball.
I just like Siwoo.
Siwoo was icing after only 80 pitches.
The management probably planned it, seeing how he mostly threw four-seamers today.
Seven scoreless innings—well done, though somehow it still feels like it’s not fully satisfying because it’s Siwoo.
He became the first left-handed Korean pitcher to throw 160km/h.
Another first? Compared to his other firsts, the excitement seems subdued.
Even with seven scoreless innings from Siwoo and solid relief from Hyunwoo and Jungwon, giving the team a shutout win, it felt comfortable.
I wondered about their stamina. Last season, Hyunwoo and Jungwon blew two innings with four runs combined. Back then, they looked worn out.
This year, they’ve only pitched around 40 innings each.
Maybe more innings should have been expected, but Siwoo’s management and sheer skill make it seem fine.
Siwoo’s post-game interview was remarkable.
He said he lost some velocity in the past and realized how valuable speed is, but he also learned velocity isn’t everything.
Of course, only Siwoo could say that, especially after throwing 160km/h.
The contrast—110km/h knuckleball followed by 160km/h fastball—was brutal.
I, too, once boldly said I’d throw 160km/h someday.
It was a dream figure for pitchers.
Now that it’s done, the thrill isn’t as big as expected.
What matters isn’t speed but how well I can control the pitch.
“Hmm. Makes sense, but why does it feel annoying?”
“Why?”
“Never mind. Sigh.”
“Where are you going, senior?”
Hyunwoo said he’d go ahead and left the locker room.
I finished packing and followed.
Two unfamiliar faces entered the locker room.
One I didn’t know, and one looked familiar but I couldn’t place him at first.
Finally, it clicked.
“Senior Kyuyeong?”
“Oh, Siwoo. Long time.”
He was two years older, Huh Kyuyeong, former ace at a different school.
If I remembered right, he was a first-round pick that year and came to the Marines.
“You’ve changed a lot. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“I’ve been busy. Ah, this is Lee Juwon, a rookie this year.”
“Hello, senior!”
“Nice to meet you.”
I was glad younger pitchers were making the first team.
“I owe you a lot. I almost gave up baseball, but after watching you pitch, I worked hard and got drafted by the Marines. I wanted to say this if we ever met. Thank you.”
It wasn’t a huge deal. I had also been inspired by pros as a high schooler.
But Juwon’s words were notable.
“You joined this year?”
“Yes.”
“But you learned from watching me?”
“Yes, watching you pitch for Phoenix taught me a lot.”
Honestly, there wasn’t much to learn from my pitching. Last year I could only overpower hitters, and this year my style isn’t something others can imitate.
“But what did you learn?”
“Because my velocity isn’t fast, I always had to pitch to escape, but you never ran away. You always faced batters. I tried to emulate that.”
“Last year?”
“Yes.”
That felt strange. Last year I was below average. Not fast, not precise, just relying on batters’ aggression.
And someone said they learned from that. I was momentarily stunned.
Hyunwoo popped his head in and asked if I was leaving.
“No, I’m heading out now.”
I said goodbye to Kyuyeong and Juwon and left.
On the way, Hyunwoo asked,
“Looks like you enjoyed throwing 160? Your expression was good. Did it tingle at your fingertips?”
Not really. It wasn’t about 160km/h. It was more about realizing my choices back then weren’t wrong.
Seeing someone learn from that made it feel meaningful, and I smiled.
The next day.
“Senior! Hello!”
I met Juwon after his check-up.
“Going to training?”
“Yes! Coach wants to watch you pitch, so I’m on my way!”
“Want to come along?”
“Yes, of course.”
I’m not usually curious about other pitchers, but hearing Juwon’s words piqued my interest.
What kind of pitches did he learn from last year?
“Oh, you came with Siwoo?”
“Just wanted to watch.”
Juwon warmed up and started pitching.
I immediately understood why he said that.
He threw mostly two-seamers as a lefty, around 140km/h. Comparable to what I threw at full power last year.
“Nice pitch.”
Coach nodded. Honestly, better than my pitches last year. Dirty, nasty, exactly what you’d want from a competitive pitcher.
“Well done.”
“Thanks!”
Coach went to the analysis room to review, and Juwon looked at me with anticipation.
“You pitch well. Much better than me last year.”
“No, I just improved my form. Still far from perfect.”
He hesitated but asked,
“I’m worried about what pitch to use as my out pitch. Can you give advice?”
“What’s your strongest pitch?”
“My two-seamer…”
“Then make that your out pitch. The one you trust most. Don’t overthink it.”
“I see…”
“I’d target the inside with that two-seamer and try to force swings. Even if it’s slower, if it’s dirty, hitters won’t easily hit it.”
Especially as a reliever, it’s competitive.
“And don’t try too hard. Yesterday I realized I was too tense, overthinking every pitch. Even if velocity returns, it wouldn’t have lasted.”
“Understood! Thank you!”
It was advice I wished I could tell my past self and a promise for how I want to pitch going forward.
I watched Juwon occasionally, but his chances were limited.
Gale pitched seven innings with two runs for a quality start and series win.
Danny followed with eight innings, one run, dominating, completing the sweep.
Even though the offense scored enough, the closer rested, and Juwon didn’t get a chance.
Next up: away game against Suwon Knights, fighting for fifth place.
First game: Lee Donghoon gave up three runs in six innings.
Second game: Oh Kyungsoo gave up four runs in six innings.
The manager poured in his best bullpen to secure wins.
“Too bad,” I muttered.
But Jungwon blew the save in the second game, allowing a walk-off.
Four wins then a loss, including the first half, meant Gwangju Wolves stayed persistent.
If we win, Wolves win too. If we lose, they lose. That’s how it is.
So today’s game was crucial.
We planned to focus on the knuckleball.
Oliver said my body could handle it.
Though the 160km/h hype might’ve made them prepare for fastballs, today the knuckleball moved nicely.
The scheduled starting foreign pitcher didn’t pitch; a new replacement took the mound.
Since late first half, this happened often. Facing me, teams sent replacements first.
Makes sense—meeting me usually breaks them, so why risk the ace first?
For me, this made the game easier.
Early innings were scoreless, but after the lineup cycled, we broke the pitcher down.
Score reached 10-1.
Except for a minor knuckleball mistake, the game went smoothly.
“Keep going if you want.”
After the eighth inning, the manager told me I could leave.
I could’ve pitched another inning, but I wanted either Kyuyeong or Juwon to get a chance.
Even if not today, they’d pitch eventually. I preferred them pitching in a winning game.
Juwon ran out of the bullpen, nervous.
First Major League pitch: ball.
Completely off.
Minseok gestured to calm him and tossed the next pitch.
Second pitch: strike.
Third pitch: strike. Confidence built.
Fourth pitch: two-seamer inside. Thud. Grounder.
“Out!”
“Pick it up!”
“I got it.”
First out in the first division secured.
He gained confidence, pitched boldly. One hit, one walk, but handled it.
Next: line drive out.
No runs allowed, finished the game.
“Congrats.”
“How do you feel?”
“Still not sure. But thanks to your advice, I enjoyed it.”
“Good.”
It felt like my past effort wasn’t wasted.