Chapter 60
Chapter 60
In modern baseball, a starting pitcher’s pitch limit is usually within 100 pitches.
Pitching has become specialized, and unless there’s a special situation, staying around 100 pitches is standard.
And right now, this was one of those special situations.
“Park Si-woo is heading back to the mound!”
“His pitch count is 98, so it’s fine. Especially since Si-woo doesn’t lose strength even with a high pitch count, unlike other pitchers.”
“As you can see on the scoreboard, Si-woo hasn’t allowed a single runner for nine innings. And he’s taking the mound again for the 10th inning.”
“This has happened before, but the record wasn’t recognized because the pitcher was replaced. For Si-woo to complete the record, he has to pitch through the bottom of the 10th!”
It could understandably feel unfair for a pitcher.
He had thrown as perfectly as possible, yet he had to stay on the mound into extra innings.
But a faint smile appeared on Si-woo’s face as he closed his eyes briefly on the mound.
“Is he… smiling? Haha, incredible.”
“What is he thinking? Surely he’s not actually enjoying this situation, is he?”
“Funny.”
That “surely” was correct.
Si-woo found the situation a little amusing.
“I didn’t expect to pitch ten innings.”
Even with an August curse, he thought that if he threw nine scoreless innings, he could win.
That was why he had told Song Min-seok before the game to hit a home run so he could achieve a shutout.
Although it wasn’t Min-seok who hit it but Ha Seo-jin, and Si-woo wasn’t going for a shutout but something greater.
“This is what I have to do, huh?”
A brutally harsh jinx.
But because of that, he was confident that if today’s game ended as it was, the jinx would disappear with it.
Si-woo briefly reviewed the game in his mind.
“Roughly fifty-fifty, huh?”
Knuckleballs and hard knuckleballs made up about half, with the rest being other pitch types.
Thanks to that, despite the fatigue from the pressure of the record, the jinx, and the heat, his body was fine.
“The opponents will throw everything they have at me too.”
Si-woo had set multiple initial records, but a perfect game felt different.
From the later innings, the Wolves’ batters had been gritting their teeth, trying to get on base any way they could.
Now that it had gone to extra innings, they would do anything to break at least one record and win.
Si-woo calmly caught his breath.
His first pitch was already decided.
Strong force gripped the ball between two fingers, and the tempo was fast.
-Wham!
“Strike!”
160 km/h.
A perfect assertion of dominance.
The first time he had thrown 160 km/h since the second half opener.
But the Marines fans who came even for the away game held their breath instead of cheering.
“Go, Kang Jae-sung! Hit it out, Jae-sung!”
Meanwhile, the Wolves’ fans shouted even louder than usual to distract Si-woo.
Had he been shaken by it, it would have shown long ago.
-Wham!
“Strike!”
Once again, 160 km/h.
Kang Jae-sung had let the first pitch go; this one he couldn’t react to.
‘…You want me to hit this?’
It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen 160 km/h before.
Other KBO pitchers can throw it, but no one compares to what Si-woo was throwing.
Once the count quickly piled up, Kang Jae-sung’s mind raced.
‘He’ll probably take one off now, right? Or a knuckleball? Ah, damn it.’
His heart felt like it was going to burst.
If he couldn’t hit now, he would be a sacrificial lamb for the record, tasting the same humiliation as last time.
But unlike Kang Jae-sung’s chaotic thoughts, the Marines battery’s plan was simple.
They had the count, now they’d finish it.
The fingers that had gripped the four-seam split, and the ball slipped through.
‘Four-seam?’
The ball flew straight to the center of the zone.
Kang Jae-sung raised his swing, trying to catch it with focus—but the ball disappeared from view.
‘Huh?’
The moment the pitch vanished, the outcome was decided.
“Strikeout!”
Three pitches, three strikes.
The batter most likely to make contact had surrendered an out immediately, drawing a roar from the crowd.
Meanwhile, Song Min-seok, who caught the ball, quickly tagged Kang Jae-sung’s body.
‘Phew… I’m dead.’
Splitters are nice, but after two strikes, it’s a huge burden for Min-seok.
Not just Min-seok.
Had he dropped the ball, the record would have been broken anyway.
But Si-woo caught and returned it without a hitch.
‘…Phew. Two left. Focus, Min-seok. You can do it. You have to.’
Seeing this gave Song Min-seok strength and motivation.
Now the second batter, Lee Jin-wook.
For the Wolves and Si-woo, only two outs remained.
-Wham!
And one of those opportunities vanished.
-First pitch! Caught by the center fielder! Only one out remains until the game ends.
Momentum, morale.
Everything transferred to Si-woo.
-Now the last batter, Lucas Ramirez, steps up!
But the most dangerous moment is when you think all records are safe.
The Wolves had one final chance.
“Ball!”
A knuckleball in a 2-1 count barely missed the ABS, making it 3-1.
Song Min-seok felt his heart pounding.
He pressed the pitch-com, and Si-woo shook his head.
‘…Really?’
When Si-woo nodded to the sign he hadn’t expected, Min-seok stopped thinking.
With the record within reach, the count tightened.
Any pitcher here would throw their most confident pitch.
For Si-woo, that was the knuckleball and four-seam fastball.
And his pitching form was four-seam.
Lucas Ramirez swung without hesitation at the pitch heading into the zone.
‘Waiting won’t help.’
Si-woo was no ordinary pitcher; expecting a walk was impossible.
The pitch came to get the count.
Lucas Ramirez aimed at it.
So it was natural that he swung in the advantageous count.
Exactly one second later, his expression twisted in disbelief.
“Strike!”
The pitch he was sure was a four-seam vanished.
‘…Did he really throw a splitter here? If this is a ball, the record breaks.’
Of course, a no-hit no-run is still a great achievement.
But Si-woo already had that record; a perfect game was on another level.
The conclusion was clear.
‘This guy’s insane.’
Lucas Ramirez thought of the advice given by a certain player once.
The MLB monster he’d met after being called up earlier this year: Aiden Kelly.
‘You couldn’t survive here without going crazy.’
If that’s what it meant, then yes.
“Strikeout!”
Lucas Ramirez had no chance to survive in the majors.
“Waaah! Si-woo!”
Song Min-seok grabbed the ball so tightly it felt like it would crush him and ran toward Si-woo.
The game was over.
“Good job.”
The jinx was over.
Si-woo looked at Ha Seo-jin’s peculiar expression and smiled.
“Good work.”
Busan Marines 1 : 0 Gwangju Wolves
Park Si-woo achieves the first perfect game in 56 years of KBO history!
Those batters were brutal in the top of the 9th, but he did it.
Si-woo saved the bats, yes.
Ha Seo-jin’s celebration is a throwback.
Full-season shutout number 10 and 20 wins—perfect.
In August too, 20 wins lol.
Just his pitching style alone is different.
World-first 10-inning perfect game, ending pitch was 160 km/h four-seam!
From 107 km/h knuckleballs to 160 km/h four-seams, a perfect 108 pitches.
Head coach Lee Jeong-hwan: “We did everything we could. Just happened to face Si-woo.”
After the game, Ha Seo-jin was tidying up and couldn’t stop smiling.
It just kept coming out.
Partly because he remembered asking Si-woo to delay his mound appearance, partly because that celebration was embarrassingly nostalgic.
‘…So easy.’
And maybe all the worries had been that simple.
Of course, the game itself wasn’t easy.
Conner Gray had kept the Marines hitters frozen.
But Si-woo had never wavered.
Without Ha Seo-jin’s help, winning might have been harder.
‘He’d try again anyway.’
If not finished in the 10th, he’d try in the 11th. If not today, next game. Si-woo would try again.
And August had only five games so far.
To see if the jinx was truly gone, they’d have to wait at least until the end of August.
“Senior! Aren’t you going to sprinkle some water on Si-woo?”
But no Marines player now thought about the jinx.
“I’m fine.”
“Yes!”
Song Min-seok smiled and filled the icebox with water.
“Min-seok.”
Ha Seo-jin, watching, called him.
Though he usually stayed out of team affairs, he was sharp when it came to unfair or extreme pranks.
Song Min-seok gulped and waited.
“Add some ice too. You looked hot earlier.”
“Yes! Got it!”
Ha Seo-jin smiled as he finished tidying up.
Soon, players who had just finished interviewing ran to Si-woo.
“Aaah! Hey! Why—gah!”
Song Min-seok tried to douse him with the icebox, but Si-woo lunged, leaving them both soaked.
Forgetting the original purpose, they splashed each other, celebrating today’s victory.
“Take this!”
Ha Seo-jin grabbed towels for the soaking players and headed to the locker room.
“Senior.”
Si-woo sprayed him with water.
“…I’m dead.”
Seeing this, Song Min-seok and the others shivered.
The Marines had one rule: never spray Ha Seo-jin with water.
No one knew exactly why, but since he usually wasn’t playful, things could escalate.
Ha Seo-jin shook his wet hair and laughed.
“Long time no see.”
“Huh?”
The reason was simple: whoever messed with him, he’d repay it several times over.
“Everyone inside.”
So the second round started again.
The players kept splashing until the ice ran out, then exhaustedly returned to the locker room.
“Senior.”
“What, you want more?”
“No, no water left.”
Si-woo sat next to Ha Seo-jin.
“Thanks for the home run today.”
“Hit it a little late, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but it helped me reach ten innings, so I’m satisfied. Next, if you could hit against Conner Gray, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will there be a next time? I won’t face you.”
“Korean Series, right?”
Ha Seo-jin looked at Si-woo briefly.
“Yeah. Then maybe you could.”
The Korean Series felt far from the Marines’ reality, but now it felt possible.
“Then it’s a promise.”
“If you pitch like today.”
“Sounds good.”
After the away games against the Wolves and Dolphins, the Marines returned to Sajik with a 3-3 record.
They lost twice to the Wolves but won twice against the Dolphins without Si-woo.
Arriving early, Si-woo couldn’t believe his eyes.
“…Wow.”
Ha Seo-jin’s locker, usually only with essentials, was now filled with Marines memorabilia.
Even some items from the founding fans were missing.
“You came early?”
“Senior?”
“Yes. Why?”
Ha Seo-jin nodded, checking the display.
“Not bad, right?”
“Yes. Looks great.”
‘Hmm, still…’
What Si-woo didn’t know: Ha Seo-jin had been a lifelong Marines fan since his mother’s womb.
Si-woo had awakened that passion.
“Wow, all of this yours?”
“Senior, the pieces you just touched are fragments of your uniform from the 1992 championship. Touching is fine, but these are historic.”
“…Ah, okay, sorry.”
Even Kim Min-ki, who asked out of curiosity, was stunned by his solemnity.
‘…It’ll be fine, I guess.’
Probably.