Stepping into History – 5 Consecutive Shutouts

As I stepped on home plate and headed back to the dugout, the palm slaps hitting my back were even more intense than usual.

"Whoa, this crazy bastard... we really can't mess with him."

"Jesus... Tae-hyun, you were a truly magnificent heretic inquisitor. I'm impressed."

"Tae-hyun! That was total Kimpi Tang-level stress relief!"

"No, Tae-hyun, what if you actually vent like that?"

I smirked and shot back at Tae-seop hyung, who approached with a grin.

"But it was fun, right?"

"It was killer, man. Felt like all the frustration just poured out. Hahaha!"

The dugout's fiery atmosphere cooled as we sat down. Then Un-myeong hyung glanced around cautiously and whispered,

"Hey, Tae-hyun..."

Sounded serious. Like he had something important to say.

"Yeah, Un-myeong hyung."

"I'm Phoenix now."

"Uh...?"

"You don't hate me just 'cause I'm from Winners, right...?"

What the hell? Who does he think I am?

"Nah... I just vented some baseball frustration like any player would. Anyone hearing that might think I hold a grudge against Winners."

"Really...?"

Un-myeong hyung's eyes widened as he asked, and I let out a hollow chuckle.

"No, that's not it, but that play just came out... You're scary, Cha Tae-hyun."

"You get it too, Un-myeong. Tae-hyun's the real power behind our team," Geon-hyuk hyung chimed in, having snuck up.

"If you get on Tae-hyun's bad side... you'll never set foot in baseball again..."

Wait... is my image getting seriously twisted here?

Crack! Just as I tried to shake off the bad rep, another hit echoed.

Sang-jin hyung followed by Tae-seop hyung with base hits. True to their "crap car" nickname for the 5-6 spots, runners on first and second—but the situation was still prime.

"Shin Min-seok's done for."

Like Geon-hyuk hyung said. That 22-pitch grand slam must've hit hard.

Couldn't snag an out.

"Could pull him now, why not?"

"Probably too embarrassing to yank the starter without an out."

Crack! Another one? Now 7-hole I Hoon-gi got a hit too.

No runs from the crap car's miracle, but bases loaded again. Hmm... this could get ugly.

'This is driving me insane...'

After the top of the first, the Winners manager tore at his hair, sighing deeply.

Surrendered 10 runs in one offensive half-inning. Plus, the season's first all-starters-hit record.

Starter already pulled. Fans could rightfully pull a "lostik" (lost TV curse) and no one would argue.

Plenty heading for the exits already.

Baseball's unpredictable till the bottom 9th, two outs? True.

But against Cha Tae-hyun as starter, down 10 after the first? Game over.

Plain fact.

'Never expected to win with Cha Tae-hyun starting anyway.'

The Winners manager clung to his fraying sanity and stood.

Losing to Cha Tae-hyun? Nothing shameful. Four teams already shut out zero runs against him.

But becoming the fifth? No way.

League a month in, everyone played each other once. Second time facing him, handing over five straight shutouts?

'Absolutely not...!'

To block it, he'd drilled fastballs relentlessly, wrecking hitters' rhythms. For whatever reason, Tae-hyun's first four starts: 80% fastballs, 20% breaking.

Simple ball mixes too. Target that, snag a run easy.

"Listen up! Forget everything else! Just get one damn run! Hand him five straight shutouts and it'll spread worldwide—not just Korea. You wanna be embarrassed? Grit your teeth and get that one run!"

"Yes sir!"

Winners' goal shifted from win to stopping Tae-hyun's record.

Jin Tae-hyeon watched blankly. This wasn't the pro stage he'd dreamed of—abandoning victory early.

Staring into space, he muttered too soft for others,

"Wanna go to Phoenix... Maybe fake an injury for a trade..."

Anyone knowing him would've jumped. The words faded into the dugout floor.

"No point asking every time since it doesn't matter. Just don't ask. Throw whatever feels right, like always."

I chuckled at Sin Si-woo's words. Guess I overdid it.

Si-woo headed home for real, words done.

"Hey, Sin Si-woo."

"What."

"Today, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we'll go with your ball mixes."

"!!"

That shocking? Si-woo's face lit up with pure shock, no exaggeration. Like I'd poisoned him.

"Why, hate it?"

"No, not that. Just... the guy throwing wild till now suddenly changes?"

"I did throw kinda wild on purpose, but 'wild' is harsh, Si-woo."

"Sorry. Wait, on purpose? So all that dumbass mixing and four-seam stubbornness was intentional?"

"What, you think I'm some hot-blooded manga protag obsessed with fastballs? Of course there's reason. Anyway, your mixes today. Call whatever signs you want."

Si-woo stared, newly awed. Kinda creepy.

"You're... trusting me with the five straight shutouts?"

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...Not even close.

But white lies build courage sometimes.

"Yeah, I trust you, Si-woo."

"!!"

Mouth agape, Si-woo nodded solemnly and turned.

Well, his mixes are fun. Good or bad? TBD. Perfect for my plan.

My "wild"... simple four-seam spam had reason. Not 'cause I can't break.

-One sweeper!

Nod.

Like this Winners leadoff. Thinking 'Four-seam... four-seam! First pitch four-seam!'

My pattern screamed it. Maybe drilled fastballs to stop my record.

[Pitcher winds up, first pitch away!]

Thwack!

Ball left my hand, grazed bat edge, sucked into mitt.

[Whiff strike! Whoa... startled me. Cha Tae-hyun's first pitch... especially first inning, first at-bat, not four-seam? First time. That was... yep, sweeper. Art."

Sweeper out the gate? Batter's mind blanks.

Modern baseball, sabermetrics era—five straight shutouts? Near impossible. None post-2000?

Thwack!

[Whiff again! Waterfall curve this time! Why hide such free-swing breaking from a guy who commands 'em? Mystery.]

I'm challenging the impossible. Twist expectations max.

One way: spam simple mixes, four-seams—make 'em think I'm weak on breaking.

Fill analysts' heads with fastballs.

Fancy talk. Webnovel style:

'Power pitcher hides breaking balls.'

3-hole steps up. Face screams 'I'm rattled.' No sweat.

Glanced at on-deck Jin Tae-hyeon. Something wrong? Eyes dead. First time seeing that.

Sensed no at-bat coming?

Gripped ball, nodded Si-woo's sign.

Thwack!

Four-seam clips outside corner. Batter froze. Good fastball hunt, but head scrambled.

-Splitter now!

Chuckle at sign. My simple mixes frustrated him? Hands dancing wild.

Yeah. Today, unleash.

Whoosh.

Bat swings, ball dives sharp. 0-2 now, could waste one... but mitt dead center.

Fun mixes.

Thwack!

[Whiff K! Tae-hyun unleashes hidden breaking arsenal for three straight Ks! The Tae-hyun we knew? Nah. How much more can this guy show?]

After final out, Si-woo bounced over.

"See that, Cha Tae-hyun!"

Huh?

"What?"

"My mixes in, batters lose their minds!"

Smirk, nod.

"Good mixes."

"Right! Don't worry, life's easy now! I'll make your five straight shutouts!"

Arm around shoulder, I returned it. Big leagues, these guys annoyed me.

Now? Feels good.

The bottom 9th—baseball's climax—arrived, but stadium empty. Winners home, yet Phoenix fans danced third base side; Winners' first base side mostly gone or soulless zombies.

Board explained.

16-0. Worst slog for Winners fans. Remaining ones long accepted defeat, just wondering if they'd stop the shutouts.

Winners dugout, manager on sanity's edge. Dreaded nightmare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠imminent.

"Hey! Woo Jun-sik! Swing no matter what! You wanna gift the record?"

Woo Jun-sik sighed invisibly, stepped up.

'If you hadn't drilled pointless fastball prep...'

All Winners hitters thinking same. Rhythm wrecked for fastballs.

Whoosh!

'Splitter first pitch...!'

Tae-hyun mixed like he knew. Tough enough, now impossible.

Whoosh!

'Insane... bottom 9th? Fingers don't hurt...'

Big whiff on sweeper, pure awe. Veteran hitter, but never such slider bend.

Whoosh!

"Strike! Out!"

High four-seam, bat whiffed. Board: 158km/h.

"...What the hell."

Two outs till history.

"Kim Sang-hoon! Choke up! Hunt one big! Pray for it! Swing if it hangs!"

Manager sweats buckets, screaming 'please!' inside...

Lip-biting Winners manager eyed on-deck Jin Tae-hyeon.

'Get past Jin Tae-hyeon...'

Only legit hit off Tae-hyun today.

"Coach, pinch hitter?"

"Got some, but... Hwan-jung's hotter lately."

Grit.

Nail-biting, trusted 3-hole Kim Hwan-jung.

'Hold till Jin Tae-hyeon!'

Shaking, turned away. Prayed bat connected, not mitt.

Wishful thinking?

Thwack!

No mercy.

"Strike!"

Manager flinched. Two strikes left.

'Swing, Hwan-jung! Losing it!'

Thwack!

"St-rike!"

"Damn it! Kim Hwan-jung! Get your head in!"

Roared finally. Tae-hyun smirked at yell, fired.

Final: dropping splitter. Clean whiff.

"Strike out! Game set!"

"Ah..."

Manager slumped. Phoenix rushed mound, dousing Tae-hyun.