The Exhibition Opener
"Good afternoon to baseball fans all across the nation! The moment you have all been waiting for—the opening day of the 2030 KBO exhibition season has finally arrived! I'm your play-by-play caster, Park Taejin!"
"And I'm Kim Hyunsik on color commentary. A pleasure to join everyone today."
"Today's exhibition opener takes place right here at Sajik Baseball Stadium, featuring the Busan Titans facing off against the Daegu Knights!"
"The Titans finished dead last a year ago, though many argued they would have easily reached postseason play if not for their disastrous wave of injuries. Standing across from them are the Knights, who took fourth in the regular season and punched their ticket to fall ball. It's a classic matchup to start the spring."
The Busan Titans had suffered a drop in popularity during their lean years, but the return of franchise icon Hwang Jaehun alongside early dividends from their youth rebuild had begun filling the bleachers once more. Their opponents, the Daegu Knights, were a proud, traditional powerhouse in their own right, having forged a legendary dynasty marked by four consecutive combined championships.
With their home bases nestled in neighboring southeastern regions—Busan and Gyeongbuk—the two founding franchises clashed in this exhibition opener. Their rivalry was famously hailed as the Classic Series. Since the KBO's inauguration in 1982, they were the only two charter clubs that had never altered their franchise moniker or relocated from their original home territories.
Naturally, the historical head-to-head record tilted heavily in Daegu's favor. Even the previous season, the Knights had dominated with an overwhelming 11–5 margin. The Titans had shocked the league early on by sweeping their first encounter, but an unrelenting plague of injuries and late-season conditioning lapses among their younger core resulted in getting swept twice down the stretch. Those painful defeats still lingered.
Even though it was only an exhibition, Hwang Jaehun wanted payback. More importantly, the relaxed exhibition regulations meant that Yoo Seonghyun—a kid possessing talent far more dazzling than his own—was permitted to take the field.
"All right, listen up," Hwang Jaehun barked, rallying the dugout. "This is the same Knights club that handed us six straight losses to close out last year. Exhibition or not, shouldn't we take this one? This is our home ballpark. Let's not let down our home fans!"
"Aigoo... Jaehun-ah. You're way too serious, man! Take it easy~"
"Min Seongwon...!"
"Hwang Jaehun...!"
Min Seongwon's playful jab rippled through the dugout, drawing warm chuckles across the bench. Unfazed, the veteran slugger herded the players into a huddle anyway.
"On three, we shout Titans fighting! Got it? One, two, three!"
"Titans, fighting!"
With that hopelessly generic chant, the curtain rose on the exhibition season.
Exhibition games carried no active roster restrictions. Second-team players and developmental walk-ons alike could be inserted directly into the lineup and deployed without restriction.
"I can't believe I'm starting..." Choi Kanghyuk muttered, his voice trembling as he fidgeted with his glove.
"Why are you so worked up?" Seonghyun asked calmly. "At least you're playing first base. Isn't that fine?"
"Well, yeah, but still... How are you not nervous at all?"
For today's matchup, Hwang Jaehun was penciled in as the designated hitter, leaving Kanghyuk to take charge of first base. The manager was evidently far too terrified of Kanghyuk's defensive liabilities to entrust him with second base at the keystone. Hwang Jaehun occupying the DH slot, however, forced their primary designated hitter, Luis, into left field. Having endured both a torn ACL and a ruptured hamstring, Luis possessed virtually zero foot speed; their center fielder would have to run ragged covering the gaps.
"Getting all tense like that only ensures you won't play to your normal standard," Seonghyun advised. "It's just an exhibition game anyway. Loosen up a bit."
"You really don't act like a rookie, you know that...?"
"All right, come on. We're on defense first, so let's get into position~"
"Let's take a look at the starting lineups for today's clash between the Busan Titans and the Daegu Knights!" the broadcast caster announced as the defense jogged out onto the diamond.
"The Knights' starting order is virtually identical to their everyday regular season lineup from last year, with the lone exception of Kang Taehoon resting a tight lower back."
"On the other hand, the Titans are showcasing several fresh faces not often seen on the main roster. Choi Kanghyuk starts at first base, and Yoo Seonghyun takes third base."
"Both players were brought into the organization as developmental signees through the winter tryouts," Kim Hyunsik added. "And from what I've been hearing out of camp, Yoo Seonghyun is an exceptional, once-in-a-generation talent."
"Starting on the mound for Busan is their newly acquired foreign arm, Jamie Lucas."
"His recent minor league track record wasn't particularly dazzling... but he boasts a remarkably diverse arsenal. He features a four-seam fastball, cutter, slider, splitter, and a looping curveball."
"Hey, Yoo," Lucas grumbled in English from the mound, tossing a warmup ball into his glove. "Why the hell aren't you playing shortstop?"
"You do realize," Seonghyun replied dryly in fluent English, "that if our starting shortstop understands a word of what you just said, that's wildly disrespectful?"
"I don't care! Any idiot can see you're ten times better over there!"
"Just pitch. Even if you give up a knock, it doesn't matter. I'll get you three runs in the bottom of the first anyway."
"Whew. Fine."
Always so high-strung. Then again, Lucas was still quite young to be pitching in the KBO. In scouting terms, he was the quintessential 'glass mental' arm—a pitcher whose composure shattered the instant adversity struck, resulting in comical meatballs over the heart of the plate. If runners reached scoring position or a fielder committed an error behind him, he would unravel completely, losing his rhythm and sabotaging his own outings. That flaw alone had kept him stranded in the minors.
Yet his pure stuff was undeniable. Provided he battled the batter instead of his own demons, he had the ceiling to tear through the KBO. Standing 193 centimeters with long, whip-like limbs, he generated ferocious life out of a modern three-quarter arm slot. The scouting department deserved credit for digging up an arm bouncing between Double-A and Triple-A and convincing him to cross the Pacific.
Thwack!
"STRIKE!!"
The umpire's booming roar signaled the start of the contest. The velocity flashed brightly on the stadium radar: 150 kilometers per hour at 2,200 RPM. Once the spring chill receded, that would easily climb to 155 kilometers per hour and 2,400 RPM.
The Knights' leadoff hitter was tiny. Hm, reminds me of Altuve. He looked like a classic slap-hitting lefty, prompting Seonghyun to creep in a few steps toward the grass. According to the analytics packet provided by the front office, the leadoff man possessed blazing foot speed. He was by no means a power threat, but his diminutive stature afforded him a miniscule strike zone, and paired with solid pitch recognition, he functioned as a quintessential table-setter.
"Ball!"
Whoa, that was called a ball? Then again, the man barely scraped 165 centimeters tall. It made sense his zone was compressed. Had it really been over five years since the KBO officially implemented the Automated Ball-Strike System (ABS)?
On the mound, Lucas grimaced, his lips forming a silent curse that clearly began with an 'F' and ended with a 'K.' It was understandable; that cutter had grazed the border with vicious bite.
Crack!
A jammed, spinning chopper rolled softly toward the third-base grass. Ah, come on, you're giving me this right out of the gate?
Seonghyun exploded forward. Lengthening his stride, he covered the ground in three massive steps, scooped the ball barehanded on the run, and whipped a sidearm throw across the diamond while sliding forward on the dirt. The awkward, off-balance posture made pinpoint accuracy impossible; he could only pray Kanghyuk's glove was ready.
Thwack!
"...Out!"
Whew, close one. The Knights' leadoff hitter threw his arms wide in exasperation, pleading for a safe call, but the umpire remained firm. If they were that confident, they were welcome to burn a video replay challenge.
The home crowd at Sajik erupted into roaring applause. A familiar rumble washed over Seonghyun. Spend enough years grinding in Philadelphia, and you grew accustomed to everything from thunderous cheers to vile, personal vitriol. Once his backstory had circulated back in the States, unilateral booing had become rare—though squandering bases-loaded opportunities still earned you relentless hell from the stands.
"Yoooooo!!" Lucas screamed from the mound, pointing violently toward third base. "Get your ass back to the Phillies right now! Go take that fucking bomb's spot and glue him to the bench!"
"We're in the middle of a game, Lucas," Seonghyun called out, holding up a pacifying palm. "Calm down, calm down."
The 'bomb' Lucas was referring to was Alec Bohm, Philadelphia's third baseman. Because of his surname, whenever he slumped, critics ruthlessly labeled him 'Boom' or 'the Bomb.' To be fair, Bohm possessed a naturally weak throwing arm and had never been known for defensive wizardry.
"Hey! What did you just say?"
An unexpected wrinkle disrupted the moment. The Knights' leadoff batter, trudging back toward the visiting dugout after the out, had caught Lucas's bellowed English and immediately assumed the foreigner was hurling profanities at him. He veered sharply toward the mound.
Whoa, hold your horses. Seonghyun immediately jogged forward to intercept him before he reached the dirt circle.
"Ah, he was shouting at me, sunbaenim."
"Wait, didn't he just drop the F-bomb at me?"
"There's this fucking 'bomb' over in Philadelphia," Seonghyun explained with complete, deadpan earnestness. "He was telling me to go take that guy's job on the Phillies."
"...What the hell are you even talking about?" the batter muttered, staring blankly at Seonghyun before shaking his head in sheer bewilderment and trudging off to the dugout.
The infield settled into a brief, awkward silence as the other Titans fielders exchanged hesitant glances. Fortunately, the potential brawl dissolved into thin air.
"Yoo, what did that midget say to you?" Lucas demanded, stalking over with narrowed eyes.
"Nothing important. Lock in on the game."
"Was he talking shit about you? Just say the word. I'll bury this ball straight into that arrogant little midget's ribs."
"It really was nothing. And if you want to assign blame, it happened because you were screaming at the top of your lungs. Let's just play baseball. Stick to baseball."
Seonghyun shuddered inwardly. True to his Philigan blood. Ready to fire a retaliatory beanball at the slightest provocation. Did pitchers genuinely have no concept of how agonizing a hit-by-pitch was? Even a 140-kilometer fastball felt like getting struck by a lead pipe. A professional baseball was rock-solid; getting drilled by a major league-caliber arm guaranteed deep, brutal contusions. Hitters didn't charge the mound out of petty anger—they charged because it hurt like hell.
Settling back onto the rubber, Lucas promptly punched out the next two batters on consecutive swinging strikeouts, shutting the door on the top of the first with an emphatic three up, three down.
All right, Seonghyun thought, grabbing his helmet as he jogged toward the home dugout. Time to go to work on offense.