Chapter 65
Chapter 65
The moment the Marines’ victory was confirmed, Sajik Stadium erupted in cheers hotter than it had ever been.
Fifty-five years since 1982.
Whether you had watched from the beginning or had come later, everyone shared the same feeling in this moment.
How long had it been a time of bitterness?
An inaugural team with no regular season championship?
lol no way
Even with so many new fans these days, I won’t fall for that lie
Yeah, I’m not scratching that itch anymore
When they were mocked by fans of other teams, they had to put on a mask of indifference.
Phoenix finally wins sssss
Now there’s only one team in the 21st century without a championship
Whoa, could that team really be an inaugural team?
When clubs in similar situations won, or newer teams clinched victories, all they could do was watch with bitter faces.
They had debated switching allegiance dozens of times.
But they couldn’t.
It seemed absurd to invest so much in a mere game of baseball, yet here they were.
“Busan Seagull, Busan Seagull! Have you truly forgotten me?”
That’s why they could fully enjoy this moment now.
They deserved it.
The players felt the same.
“…heh, hehe, heheh.”
Kim Min-ki laughed, unable to believe it, staring at the field.
The players ran toward Park Si-woo.
This impossible moment had been completed with a perfect game.
Kim Min-ki wanted to run immediately, but his body wouldn’t move.
He knew.
From the moment the magic number appeared, he had imagined this victory every day.
Yet even combining all those imaginings, it was nothing compared to this reality.
‘You’d have to experience it to understand.’
Then, wearing the regular season championship T-shirt, Lee Dong-hoon approached him.
“Are you going to stay like that? Go change your clothes.”
“When did you even put that on?”
“I wore it when I came today.”
“You maniac.”
Their eyes met for a moment.
On a night when they drank together, Lee Dong-hoon had declared he would leave the team, rejecting offers over a billion won to return. Kim Min-ki had asked if he was sane.
And Lee Dong-hoon had replied, ‘Then what about you?’
Kim Min-ki could say nothing.
Some called it foolish, others called it romantic—the battery duo.
“Dong-hoon, good work.”
“Yes. You too.”
Kim Min-ki wrapped his arm roughly around Lee Dong-hoon’s shoulder and ran onto the field.
Then they rushed to Park Si-woo on the mound, who was being congratulated fiercely.
“Oh, our lucky charm! Good work!”
“Thanks, really.”
Park Si-woo hugged them tightly, finally managing to say, “Thank you for all your hard work, seniors.”
For Kim Min-ki and Lee Dong-hoon, it was a consolation for everything they had endured.
After celebrating, the players stood in front of the prepared trophy.
“Really… can I lift it?”
“If not you, then who?”
“It’s fine. Go ahead.”
Coach Gwak Gu-beom, Lee Dong-hoon, Kim Min-ki, and Park Si-woo lifted the trophy together.
The moment they raised it high.
“Champions!”
“Park Si-woo! Park Si-woo! Park Si-woo!”
It was the first regular season championship in Sajik and for the Busan Marines.
“Everyone worked so hard. Take a good rest tomorrow, and then we prepare again.”
“Yes! Understood!”
The coach looked around with a satisfied smile, then left with the other coaches.
“Si-woo, congratulations.”
“Yes. Congratulations to you too. But how long are you going to keep this up?”
“Hehe. Not sure? I never get tired of saying it.”
Min-seok congratulated each player he met.
It was easy to see that everyone was thrilled.
Rightfully so, and rightfully deserved.
“Now, don’t get too carried away. Attention, everyone.”
“Yes, senior!”
“Song Min-seok, especially you. Ugh.”
Kim Min-ki glared at Min-seok once, then smiled.
“You all worked hard. Well, this is my first championship too, so I don’t know what to say. Tonight, sleep might not come easy. But it’s not over yet.”
The Korean Series.
Even though they had won the regular season today, a true championship required success in the Korean Series.
“Finish the remaining two games well, and then aim for the grand championship. Understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good. And attend all the team dinners. Got it?”
“Yes! We’re looking forward to it!”
The owner was even using his personal card.
At the dinner, I, Min-seok, Lee Dong-hoon, and Kim Min-ki all sat together.
“...Senior?”
“Yes. What?”
“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable over there?”
“So you want me to go sit over there so you can eat comfortably?”
“No, no. Not at all.”
When Min-seok looked longingly at the beer, Kim Min-ki chuckled and poured him some.
Lee Dong-hoon tilted his beer toward me too.
“Drink?”
“Yes. Just a little.”
“No. Don’t drink yet.”
“Eh?”
“You still have something left to do.”
I knew what he meant.
With today’s victory, I reached 29 wins.
Only two games remained.
Even with a holiday in between, realistically, it was tough.
Especially with the rain.
And having thrown over 100 pitches today.
Most importantly.
“Rest well and prepare for the Korean Series.”
I knew my value to this team.
But if I had pitched for the record and gotten injured?
“29 wins is an amazing record anyway.”
“True. Even combining your last three seasons, it wouldn’t reach 29.”
“Hmm, when you put it that way, I feel a bit…”
“It’s fine. That’s why I said it. Without you, we’d be lost.”
Then he poured beer into my cup.
“Let’s drink.”
I thought the 30-win challenge had ended.
“...Eh?”
“Prepare to pitch on the last day.”
The next day, I arrived at work to check my condition and was called by the coach.
“I already talked to Oliver. The one who would regret it most if you didn’t even try is you. You won’t be starting, even with three days off. But you could pitch an inning from the bullpen, finish the season yourself. The decision is yours.”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“Yes. I will do it.”
“Good. I won’t tell the others. Just leave it to chance.”
If I pitched with a lead, a win would be hard; if tied or behind, there might be a chance.
I didn’t know which way it would go, but it sounded fun regardless.
Coming from the bullpen would surprise everyone.
Most of all, I liked ending the regular season myself.
Our last regular season game was at Sajik.
The opponent was Seoul Friends.
Both teams had locked their standings, so lineups were made up of 1.5 squads.
Our starter was Lee Dong-hoon.
“If you can’t pitch well today, you’ll be out three weeks, right? That’s why I volunteered. And ending with a win feels clean.”
As the game started, Park Hyun-woo sat next to me.
“Why did this year feel so fast?”
“Same here.”
“I usually dread this time of year with banners and apologies, but now it’s better. Haha, see you in the Korean Series. Nice line.”
Park Hyun-woo grinned thinking about holding the banner after the game.
“Senior! Pitch hard!”
“Shut up.”
I got hit a little for teasing Lee Dong-hoon, but it was all part of the fun and last-game atmosphere.
The game was tight.
Both teams fielded proper pitchers, so no runs came easily.
Still, we scored first.
“Nice! Good hit!”
A 1st-year debutant got his first hit and RBI—0-1.
Lee Dong-hoon gave up a home run, tying the game, but we quickly took the lead again.
Back and forth point by point, by the bottom of the 6th, the score was 4-5.
“Hyun-woo, get ready.”
“Eh? Me?”
At the coach’s words, Park Hyun-woo took the mound in the top of the 7th.
I was the only one who understood what that meant.
I pulled Min-seok aside to the indoor bullpen.
“Brother, help me catch this.”
“...Eh?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear.”
“Really?”
I nodded, and Min-seok grinned.
“Okay. Ending the season like this would be a shame. Just a moment!”
Even if the game continued, the win would belong to Lee Dong-hoon.
It didn’t matter.
I’d throw only knuckleballs today to minimize strain.
After warming up, we returned to the field.
We were still leading 4-5.
In the top of the 8th, Park Jung-won came to the mound. The dugout buzzed.
“What’s happening?”
“What is the coach thinking?”
Some sharp-eyed players glanced at me, testing, but no answer came.
Then, in the top of the 9th.
Amid everyone’s curiosity, I headed to the mound.
It wasn’t a save situation, but that didn’t matter.
We gathered briefly with the infielders.
“If I’d known, I’d have given up one less point…”
“That’s why it was a secret.”
Even with a record on the line, the top priority is giving your best.
“Let’s finish clean today.”
“Yeah. Too bad, but nothing to do.”
The last pitcher of the final regular-season game.
Not bad.
I was ready.
The opponent was Seoul Friends, potentially heading to the Korean Series.
My goal: shut them down perfectly.
“Strike!”
The first pitch, a knuckleball, dropped perfectly for a strike.
The second pitch, a hard knuckleball.
-Wham!
Almost, but no luck.
The pitch was fine, just the trajectory unlucky.
The leadoff batter hit a single—runner on first with no outs.
Unexpectedly, the Friends chose a bunt.
In the final game, with no pressure on the score, I expected a regular swing—but they surprised me.
It was fine by me.
Bunting a knuckleball isn’t easy; the first pitch was a foul.
The second pitch rolled toward me.
“Second base!”
Watching Min-seok’s hand, I threw immediately.
-Whack!
“Out!”
The lead runner was out—1 out.
The out count rose, runner remained at first.
The next batter hit a high-bouncing grounder, advancing the runner to second.
But 2 outs.
Only 1 out remained to end the regular season.
It had been a year of so much.
Being traded, going to the US, learning the knuckleball.
Returning to Korea, pitching in the opening game.
Becoming a regular starter, regaining speed.
Finally cutting ties with Choi Myung-jun, and winning the championship.
Now, only the Korean Series remained.
The stage he had longed for at Phoenix was finally close.
A bit intimidating.
Could I do it? Could we do it?
But if we continued as we had, I believed we could succeed.
-Wham!
The final pitch headed toward senior Cha Jae-hoon.
A normal bounce, slightly slow.
Had to dash forward to catch it.
And Cha Jae-hoon confidently advanced.
“…Hey! You maniac!”
He completely missed.
The ball passed the infield to the outfield, and the runner on second scored in an instant.
Tied.
I met Cha Jae-hoon’s stunned gaze.
…Senior?