Honey-Glazed Bread (2)

After lunch, I had intended to work on my flexibility in the afternoon, but the manager and coaching staff rounded up all the players, telling us we ought to at least watch the Opening Day game. Having finished in last place the previous season, the Titans were starting the year on the road at their opponent's home park.

Cruelly enough, our Opening Day two-game series was against the Daegu Knights—the very team with whom I'd had a bit of... friction? during the exhibition games. The KBO first-team opening weekend consisted of a two-game set spanning Saturday and Sunday, followed by their fixed rest day on Monday.

"Alberto is starting?"

"I heard they adjusted the rotation because throwing Lucas right after that exhibition game scuffle was too risky," Jaehyung chimed in. "Apparently, instead of Lucas, senior Lee Seongmin, our number three starter, is taking the mound tomorrow, too."

"Is that right?"

With Kanghyuk-hyung and Jaehyung providing background commentary, a group of us from the Futures League squad who were close gathered in front of the television to watch the game.

The Titans' starter was Alberto. Word was he had pitched in the NPB, though I didn't recall him from my past life. Unlike Lucas, whose mental fortitude was absolute garbage, Alberto was renowned for having an exceptionally rock-solid mentality.

The opposing starter was Justin, the man at the center of my recent altercation. The Knights didn't seem particularly concerned about the exhibition incident. Well, it wasn't like I was on the active roster, anyway.

Besides, sending Alberto and Lee Seongmin against the Knights made far more sense than giving Lucas the ball. According to the scouting reports sent over by the analytics department, six of the Knights' nine starting position players were left-handed batters. Both Alberto and Lee Seongmin were southpaws, and Alberto's slider in particular was pitch-perfect for earning him the title of the Left-handed Grim Reaper.

Alberto carefully differentiated between his traditional slider and his sweeper. A slider and a sweeper unleashed from a low, left-handed three-quarters arm slot? To a left-handed hitter, it was pure, unadulterated nightmare fuel.

Top of the first, Titans on offense. Given Justin's notorious tendency to struggle with his command in the opening frame, the first inning was absolutely critical... And sure enough, pitch one was called a ball. A subtle scowl twitched across Justin's face.

"Oh, ball one on the first pitch!"

"I swear that guy has fantastic stuff, but he always has such a rough time in the first inning."

"Tell me about it," someone agreed. "When I faced him, his stuff felt downright filthy."

Justin's habit of opening the first inning behind in the count was so well-known that even we in the reserves were thoroughly aware of it. Stepping into the box as the leadoff hitter, Choi Junhyung's face practically lit up.

"Ball four!"

Without offering a single swing, Choi Junhyung drew a walk. Having surrendered a four-pitch walk right out of the gate, Justin watched as the Knights' catcher hurried out to the mound for a conference. Ah, what was that guy's name again? At any rate, he was the catcher who had kept trying to chat me up during the exhibition game.

"Numbers three and four in our lineup are seriously monstrous, though."

"Mm, can't argue with that."

The one-two punch of Luis and Hwang Jaehun batting third and fourth formed one of the most terrifying middle-of-the-order tandems in the entire league. The problem was that outside those two, the rest of the lineup was essentially a peashooter brigade lacking any real home run threat. Consequently, opposing pitchers often chose to pitch around Luis and Hwang Jaehun with extreme care, even if it meant giving up a walk.

Unlike the exhibition games, Luis was slotted third instead of second today. Batting second was Woo Junho, a utility player capable of handling every infield spot except shortstop, currently occupying my usual position at third base. He was the quintessential lean, slap-hitting left-handed batter.

While his defense was solid, his hitting tools left a bit to be desired. In sixty games last year, his slash line had been .257 / .347 / .379. His OPS, combining on-base and slugging, stood at .726—respectable enough, all things considered. What stood out most was his ninety-point gap between his batting average and on-base percentage. He possessed an exceptionally keen eye at the plate. The manager's intention behind the lineup construction was glaringly obvious: as long as he reached base alive, Luis and Hwang Jaehun would take care of the rest. In short, just find a way on base, no matter what.

Well, given the shallow talent pool in the KBO, a team couldn't just stack the lineup one through nine with twenty-homer sluggers like a big-market Major League club, so this was the realistic approach. Even in the Majors, small-market franchises held high-OBP contact hitters in fairly high esteem—provided they possessed the wheels to back it up. With genuine speed on the bases, a single could be turned into a runner in scoring position with a stolen base, and a runner could easily sprint home from first on an extra-base hit.

The Titans' lineup had the classic feel of old-school ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠baseball orthodoxy: high-on-base table-setters followed by bruising three- and four-hole hitters. The slight deviation was having a shortstop—a position known for heavy physical wear and tear—hitting leadoff. That alone was testament to how potent Choi Junhyung's hitting tools were.

In modern Major League Baseball, teams tended to place their premier hitters in the leadoff or two-hole spot rather than third or fourth, with prime examples being Kyle Schwarber and Shohei Ohtani at the top of the order. Granted, in Schwarber's case, he really belonged in the third or cleanup spot, but he batted leadoff simply because he insisted he felt most comfortable there.

"Hey, Jaehyung. If you were batting second right now, would you swing at the first pitch?"

"Wouldn't you just take it?"

"What if it hangs right down the pipe?"

"Well, then you crush it, obviously."

As if he'd overheard our conversation, Justin grooved a four-seamer right down the heart of the plate, and Woo Junho smoothly went with the pitch. A clean single blooped right in front of the right fielder. Choi Junhyung bolted like a madman around second and pulled into third without breaking a sweat.

Runners on the corners with nobody out. And coming up next was the thunderous pair: Luis and Hwang Jaehun.

"That's our 'Spring Titans' for you! Let's pocket an easy win right from the opener!"

Jaehyung was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. But wasn't calling us the 'Spring Titans' kind of an insult? I was pretty sure that moniker was coined because the team had a knack for looking like world-beaters in the spring only to fall off a cliff the moment summer rolled around.

Justin's face began to flush a faint red, while Luis stepped into the batter's box, glaring at him as if he were ready to devour the pitcher alive. Back when Justin threw at my head, Alberto and Luis had been just as furious as Lucas.

"Ball!"

A ball that missed just off the edge of the ABS strike zone. In truth, for massive sluggers like Luis, the Automated Ball-Strike System calibrated a wider zone, meaning against an average-sized batter, that pitch would have missed by a wide margin.

Looks like we're taking full control from the jump. Despite the mild spring weather, Justin was already dripping with sweat. Serves you damn well right.

"Ball two!"

The count sat at 2-0—an absolute hitter's count. A count where a batter could comfortably take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a pitch, or aggressively unleash his swing if he caught a glimpse of what he wanted.

Crack!

It was well-struck, but it looked slightly jammed. By Sajik Baseball Stadium standards, that ball would have settled into an outfielder's glove. But the home park of the Daegu Knights, Knights Park, was the KBO's most notorious hitter's paradise. Fly balls that would be routinely tracked down in any other park flew right over the fence here, spawning the term Napark Run. In plain English? That ball had just cleared the wall.

"Hell yeahhhhh!"

Park Jaehyung leaped into the air with sheer jubilation. The other players applauded as they watched. Hmm. Were they genuinely clapping out of pure joy? I had my doubts. At the end of the day, when the first team catches fire, it means fewer opportunities for players in the Futures League. Only when someone on the main roster falters does a door open for the reserves.

Craaaack!

Even after hanging four runs on the board in the very first inning, the Titans showed zero signs of slowing down. To make matters worse for the Knights, even when Justin did manage to find the strike zone, his stuff looked terrible. The movement on his cut fastball was flat, and his borderline command was nowhere to be found. His changeup, which was supposed to tumble from within the zone out toward the dirt, hung helplessly.

The Titans' top of the first finally came to a close only after an explosive eight-run barrage, and when Alberto took the mound, a wide, relaxed grin was plastered across his face. With an eight-run cushion in hand and the opposing starter Justin already forced to throw over forty pitches in the first inning alone, the momentum was staggering. Baseball is a game played by human beings, after all, and momentum dictates everything. From Opening Day itself, the Knights were already catching every curse in the book from their own home crowd.

I couldn't agree more. A left-handed pitcher's slider is the eternal nemesis of every left-handed batter. A tight slider biting down and away is hellish enough, but Alberto's sweeper broke so violently that it finished a good four balls off the ABS zone—and yet hitters couldn't stop themselves from lunging at it.

Then again, it wasn't hard to see why. After seeing a slider paint the low-and-away corner for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a strike, how could anyone hold back against that sweeper? Even if you wanted to lay off, your hands would twitch on their own. Take the pitch, and it would look like you were just watching strike three blow past you.

For Justin, already exhausted after laboring through forty-plus pitches, this was nothing short of a thunderbolt from a clear blue sky. He barely had time to catch his breath before having to drag himself back out to the mound. Tsk. That's why you need to lock in your command from the first inning, buddy.

In truth, I felt there was no good excuse for failing to locate your pitches early on in the KBO. With the ABS in play, the strike zone didn't shift from umpire to umpire anyway, so why was it so hard to dial it in?

"Alberto's easily on pace for a Quality Start Plus at this rate."

"You think so?"

"Put yourself in a left-handed batter's shoes. You think you could even touch that stuff?"

"Can't they just take it for a ball?"

"Didn't you see him dotting the low-and-away corner with that slider for strikes? The man is radiating pure Left-handed Grim Reaper energy."

Sure, the Knights had clumped their few right-handed bats together, but while Alberto didn't throw a changeup, he knew how to bury a back-foot slider right into a righty's back ankle. He even possessed a decent curveball. Honestly, if he had the ability to backdoor that slider into the outside corner against right-handed hitters, his repertoire would have played comfortably in the Major Leagues. Granted, with his fastball velocity topping out in the high 140s km/h, his raw physical profile wasn't quite enough to survive in the big leagues.

Against righties, he went to work with a mix of four-seamers, back-foot sliders, and curves. And against lefties, just spinning sliders and sweepers like he was doing right now was more than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough to leave them utterly bewildered. A true Left-handed Grim Reaper.

This was why being a switch-hitter was such a blessing. A breaking slider thrown by a same-handed pitcher was nothing short of an ultimate weapon.

And just as I had predicted, Alberto tossed seven scoreless innings, yielding only three hits and two walks while racking up ten strikeouts before departing the mound. Every single hit and free pass had been conceded to the Knights' three right-handed batters, while all ten strikeouts had been punched out against lefties.

Justin failed to make it through the third inning. Daegu's mop-up relievers were called into duty early, and the score blew wide open to 14–0. In response, the Titans brought in a younger pitcher to mop up the garbage innings and feed him some low-pressure experience.

The Knights managed to push across a few runs in the eighth and ninth, but that was capped at five. In the end, the Titans secured a blowout 14–5 victory.

...Wait, at this rate, is there even going to be a spot for me on the first-team roster?