Slider Breakthrough and a Promise
"Thanks."
"Yeah, you've decided then." The coach nodded after hearing me out, then gave a light smile. "Good thinking. In that case, we should get right into it. You've warmed up lightly, so let's go full throttle now."
The coach picked up a ball and continued explaining. "You seem to know how to throw a fastball, so let's try a few breaking balls. Slider against righties, sinker against lefties."
The slider was a basic pitch every pitcher went through at some point. And for underhand pitchers like me, the sinker was practically essential. A stable combo without overdoing it.
"Got it."
I gripped the ball, checking the holds. Slider grip... like this. Sinker grip... fingers a bit more inside. I confirmed each sensation against my palm, imagining how it'd feel coming out.
Hmm... I'd gripped them before, but thinking about throwing underhand made it feel a little awkward.
Suddenly, something clicked in my head. I set the ball down and looked at the coach.
"Coach."
"Yeah?"
"But doesn't the ABS Zone catch a lot vertically but not much horizontally? Doesn't that make sliders and sinkers a bit disadvantageous?"
The coach looked at me for a moment after I finished, then broke into a satisfied smile. Like he'd been waiting for that question.
"Great point. You say you took a break from baseball, but you know your stuff."
The coach nodded and went on. "That was true until last year. But pitchers kept complaining it was unfair, so they adjusted it this year—widened the horizontal zone a bit. Of course, if it were human umps with inconsistent calls, it'd be a problem, but now it's all AI, so no issues."
I swallowed naturally.
"So..."
The coach gestured like he was drawing the strike zone in the air. "Sliders and sinkers are viable again. Especially for a control pitcher like you."
The coach paused, then added, "And once they set a new standard, they don't change it easily. It'll stick for at least 2-3 years. You can practice stably now, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"Alright, let's do it."
I gripped the slider again. Checked my fingers, mindful of my wrist angle, and threw a few.
Shiiiiek—pop. Shiiiiek—pop.
Once, twice—after about ten, the trajectory started taking shape. Not perfect, but at least it had that slider break coming out.
The coach let out a low whistle. "Whoa... not bad? You've got a feel for it already."
Then he added a condition. "Okay, now imagine there's a batter. A righty. So, low-outside to him—outside bottom corner of the strike zone. Throw a fastball there first, then a slider that just kisses it and tails off. Classic pitcher away pitch."
The catcher heard and set his mitt outside.
I nodded and took the mound. First pitch: fastball. No greed, right into the mitt.
Shiiiiik—pop.
Next: slider, same path at first, then faded outside at the end. Catcher snagged it without much movement.
The coach's face changed in an instant.
"Whoa... it works."
He clenched his fist, not hiding his excitement. "No, it straight-up works? Wait a sec."
Suddenly, he walked to the batter's box and stood there without a helmet. "Throw again."
I tensed up but nodded. First pitch: fastball again.
Shiiiik—pop! Strike zone.
"Good. Next."
Second: slider. Same height start, drifted outside late. The coach's bat whiffed through empty air.
Foul tip? No, whiff.
The coach froze mid-swing, grinning. "Dude... this works."
His voice full of conviction: "This'll play. Bump the velocity, and you might be game-ready?"
That wrapped up today's training. The team kept going, but as a temp member and pitcher, I was done and packing up.
"Jeong-ui."
As I finished, the coach called me over and pointed to two guys beside him. "This is Kim Na-seong, the catcher today. Same second-year as you."
"Hey." Kim Na-seong took off his helmet and said.
"And this is Lee Seung-min. Outfielder, best hitter in second year."
I nodded and greeted them naturally.
I glanced at Lee Seung-min again. Something vaguely familiar. Like passing him in the hall by our class. Not a clear memory, no exact time. No need to pretend I knew him, so just a quick hello.
"Nice to meet you."
"Yeah, you too."
Lee Seung-min smiled back.
As I headed out, I heard the coach's voice behind—reporting to the director.
I slowed without thinking.
"Kim Jeong-ui—better than expected."
The coach was calm but confident. "Control lets him think fast. If his sinker works decent against lefties for minimal resistance... better to push him up quick, build experience long-term."
Director right away: "He said he'd play, so let's use him. Might be a stretch, but throw him in soon."
I felt the coach nod. "This week might be too much."
Short pause, then the clincher: "Just take him to games from next week."
"Good. Roster him first."
Next morning at school, violin from the usual spot. Same sound, but... different?
Hmm...? New song?
Practice something else? Then it stopped.
I walked into the classroom slowly. Yoo Sera had just finished, bow down. She looked at me, face a bit scrunched.
Focused hard? Or unsatisfied?
"Uh... new piece?" I ventured carefully.
She nodded. "Yeah. You noticed right away? This is for the concerto. Practicing now."
"So no more of the old one?"
"Mm... probably? Gotta nail this first." She flexed her fingers. "But it's not sticking to my hands as fast... head knows it, but fingers lag."
"Yeah, I get that feeling."
I nodded. "Pfft, you get this frustration?"
"Yeah. That's why I quit baseball."
"Ack! Don't say it like that~"
Flustered, she switched topics. "How'd it go for you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. Joining the baseball team?"
I thought a sec, then honest: "Probably. And... seems like games sooner than I thought."
Her face lit up. "Whoa, awesome! You mean playing?"
"Uh... didn't get details, but if they're taking me... possible?"
"Wow, second-year jumping seniors!" She laughed, then: "Nah, not yet. Our captain's the starter, and there's another third-year pitcher. Probably too soon?"
"If they're excited, that's why. Great. Was gonna watch once anyway—now you too. Schedule's tight, but post-concerto maybe."
I nodded right away. "Cool, I'll hit your concerto if I can."
"For real? Promise."
Then she narrowed her eyes playfully. "But team games every weekend. Tough, huh? Can't keep it?"
...Huh.
I blanked. Real issue. Baseball had tons: weekend league every week, or tournaments like Golden Lion when not.
Full schedule—hard to keep promises.
"Uh..."
Hesitated, then grinned. "I'll make it work. Throw no-hitters, maybe they give a bye?"
"Nooo, can't! Anyway, thanks for saying it."
...No, thank you. For the confidence to play again.