Chapter 91
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Facing the Top Slugger
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"Hmm... Shin Hwa's still holding up okay...?"
The starting pitcher Kim Shin-hwa had given up a homer in the first, and right after that, his opponent Cha Tae-hyun—who'd also surrendered a homer—dominated with 166 km/h heat.
I figured Shin Hwa would be rattled since he hadn't said a word in the interview.
Swing strikeout out! Shin Hwa's changeup truly is a work of art—it's no wonder it's ranked number one among pitch types.
'He's even calmer, throwing better pitches. It's like he's pitching the game of his life.'
No matter how monstrous Cha Tae-hyun was, he was still human.
If Kim Shin-hwa kept him scoreless and they pushed until his stamina flagged later in the lineup, Tae-hyun's velocity and command would drop for sure.
And if the team's championship hero, hitter Kim Tae-jin, could deliver...
Yes! Sparkles' offense is underway again. Leading off this inning is Kim Tae-jin. This matchup has me excited too—he's always mentioned among Korea's top hitters.
Right. With rumors of a big-league move soon, this one's highly anticipated.
In the end, with everything on the line, Kim Tae-jin—the one hitter who could handle Cha Tae-hyun's stuff—was key.
'Come on, Tae-jin. If you connect... we can win this.'
The manager's desperate plea hung in the air as Kim Tae-jin stepped to the plate.
"Man... what a character. I've seen rookies bow to me, but smirking like that? First time."
"No deeper meaning. That's just his face. Appreciate your understanding."
'...This kid's lost it too?'
Kim Tae-jin had said it lightheartedly, but it implied that constant smirk wasn't appropriate.
Most rookie catchers would panic and apologize. Not this one—he fired back.
Kim Tae-jin continued in a sly tone.
"Fine. Heard you're a rookie too—tough gig, huh? Babysitting that brain-dead pitcher. Want me to discipline him? Toss a fastball in the zone. I'll launch it."
"......"
'Whatever. Still just a rookie catcher.'
Kim Tae-jin smirked, lips curling up.
Couldn't see the catcher's expression clearly, but the silence screamed agitation.
Kim Tae-jin raised his bat, expecting a fastball.
For his big-league push next year, he'd trained against the KBO's toughest—pitching machines cranked to 100 mph. If he timed it, he could crush it.
"Yes. Fastball, as requested."
The sudden call shattered Kim Tae-jin's focus for a split second.
'Totally unhinged. These rookies nowadays.'
Tae-jin tsked, then unleashed a full swing at the incoming pitch.
CRACK!!!!!
Kim Tae-jin's training paid off—he'd faced hundreds of 100 mph pitches.
He reacted to Cha Tae-hyun's heat, timing spot-on compared to other hitters.
Of course...
Foul tip! Kim Tae-jin's bat turned empty— not easy!
...he whiffed all the same.
Kim Tae-jin's fan performance is top-tier lololol
Kim Tae-jin Power Fan on sale now lololol
First time seeing Kim Tae-jin rattled lolol
For real, almost made a grounder? Dude's got skills.
First PA vs Tae-hyun God and almost connects—congrats on the award, Kim Tae-jin.
No joke, this is impressive lolol. No one but Jin Tae-hyun even gets the bat out vs him lol
As Kim Tae-jin stood dazed, Shin Si-woo said flatly, face unchanged.
"Next one's a fastball too, senior."
"You little..."
Shin Si-woo flinched at the curse but didn't back down.
'Line's already crossed... He started with the trash talk.'
Tae-hyun was obnoxious, didn't listen? True.
But hearing it from someone else? Unbearable.
Like black folks joking among themselves is fine, but a white guy says it and guns come out.
Anyway, Shin Si-woo had drawn his. Right now, he was the brain-dead golden catcher.
"Please discipline our unruly pitcher."
"Ha..."
Kim Tae-jin sighed, raising his bat again.
'One strike and his head's in the clouds? Needs a lesson.'
THWACK!
Kim Tae-jin pulls the inside fastball well... but foul! Foul! Timing was too quick this time.
Real talk, top-three hitter in Korea lives up to it.
He's gonna ground into an infield hit fr? Scary...
"Same course again. Fastball."
Kim Tae-jin let out a hollow chuckle, lifting his bat.
'Now calling location...? These psychos are begging to get smoked.'
Whiiish—
The ball hurtled from the pitcher's fingertips, motion identical to a fastball. Course: inside, as called.
Kim Tae-jin grinned, eager to school the cocky battery, and swung big.
Whoosh—
"Huh...?"
But the pitch slowed sharply and dropped in front of his eyes, bat slicing empty air.
He'd been duped by the changeup—same arm action as the fastball.
"Strike—out!"
The umpire's emphatic call rang out. Kim Tae-jin's massive whiff left him stumbling to regain balance.
Top-three hitter? lololol Tae-hyun wouldn't even rank on that bullshit list lolol
Kim Tae-jin cut lololololol
Changeup motion identical to fastball—insane lolol
Changeup's all about matching fastball form... Shin Tae-hyun did Shin Tae-hyun things.
Glancing at the stunned Kim Tae-jin, Shin Si-woo decided to go all in since the line was crossed.
"Sorry, senior... Our pitcher's so brain-dead he ignores me. I really called inside fastball..."
No matter how monstrous Cha Tae-hyun's velocity and command, by the ninth bottom, the lineup's turned twice and his stuff fatigues.
Sure enough, in the seventh, he allowed a hit.
This one's slicing through the shift perfectly! Lucky hit!
Just luck-based bleeders now and then. Nothing weird.
"...Weak sauce."
Lee Sang-jin muttered, tongue clicking.
Just a runner on first, but Phoenix players felt unusual pressure.
Yes. No one's touching Tae-hyun but Tae-jin, so bunt's plausible.
Bunt with one out? Total trash fml
Send to second then what? Still need a hit—possible?
Lineup perfect for bunt to Tae-jin fml;;
Ninth—getting nervous ;;
Full emergency mode ;;
Tension gripped more than just the players.
"Damn... this is scary as hell..."
"Just get past this... but bunt to set up Tae-jin?"
"They won't cheap-shot a bunt, right...?"
As fans praying for the record—and against their team being the footnote—clasped hands tight.
THWACK!
Sparkles hitter bunted.
Shin Tae-seop fielded the weakly rolled ball to first, nabbing the out—but the runner advanced to second as planned.
"Fuck... seriously..."
A Phoenix fan cursed loud, others clawing their hair.
Understandable rage.
Bunts usually come no outs, runner on first—not one out, runner on first. Swinging offers better scoring odds.
Yet they bunted? Gambling everything on Kim Tae-jin to stop the historic run.
Infuriating for the pitcher chasing history.
Shin Si-woo called time, rushing the mound.
"Tae-hyun, uh... calm down first. Two outs anyway, so... just like normal! Treat it like a K! Or... IBB and face the next guy?"
Stammering a torrent, Shin Si-woo drew a smirk from Cha Tae-hyun.
"Calm down yourself, man."
"S-sorry. Anyway... next guy's helpless against you too, so..."
"Nah. Finish it here."
"Huh...?"
Stunned, Shin Si-woo got a glove tap to the chest.
"Wanna end it right here, Si-woo. So let's battle."
"But..."
Shin Si-woo started to protest, then sighed deep at Tae-hyun's grinning, relaxed face—unlike his own tense mug.
Couldn't argue with that vibe.
"Don't whine later if he breaks the record?"
"Won't happen. Go."
Shin Si-woo returned home, mask on.
The final hurdle to history began.
Yeah. Stuff's down a bit, but anyone but Tae-jin is safe.
Four straight complete shutouts.
Even bombing big leagues back then, I never touched it.
Sabermetrics make "perfect" near-impossible in modern baseball.
This chance is likely my last shot.
Miss it, and three straight? Maybe. Four? Doubtful.
Pro scouts will dissect me relentlessly.
THWACK!
I'm human too—pitch-hit dual-threat won't last forever.
Why face Tae-jin now...?
Eh.
Just fun.
Thought playing ball satisfied me, but this thrill—teetering on impossible heights—is unmatched.
"Hey!!! Cha Tae-hyun!!!!! Yeah! Just smoke him! Dodging ain't manly!"
Right, loud uncle.
Dodge and set the record? Lifelong regret.
THWACK!
Two strikes! Bold 157 km/h fastball right down the middle! One strike left! Fans from both sides clasp hands in this nail-biter!
'One more for two strikes.'
Si-woo's urgent sign, fingers shaking.
"Got this, Si-woo."
I muttered with a smirk; he shook his head like he heard, raising the mitt dead center.
Si-woo gets a pitcher's mind.
Mitt-ripping pop; bat frozen in air.
I won.
Looking strikeout!!!! No-ball two-strike cheese—dead-center fastball catches Kim Tae-jin off-guard! Wow! Never saw middle fastball coming there!
"Strike—out!"
Umpire's call hit, and I clenched a fist, thrusting it skyward.
Dunno.
Body moved on its own—haven't been this hyped in ages. Ran to third-base stands, threw an uppercut.
"Cha Tae-hyun! You're killing it!"
"Believed in you, Tae-hyun!"
"Wahhh... my away 12-game skid ends in nirvana... love you, Cha Tae-hyun!"
More ceremony for fans—then teammates swarmed.
"You psycho, no chill? Middle fastball last pitch scared me!"
"Hey fucking crazy pitcher Tae-hyun!"
"Hahaha! Damn, Cha Tae-hyun! Love ya!"
Water and drinks soaked my head; backs slapped raw.
I love records.
Can't stop grinning—what now?