Yeah, You're Struggling Too
You're clumsy too, huh... How the hell do I do this... Early morning on the way to school. I arrived at Seoul Jeon-san High School, deep in thought about how to throw a proper sinker.
Huh? Why's it so quiet? But as I got near the classroom, the usual violin melody wasn't playing. For a split second, I wondered if Sera hadn't come today or if she was running late.
Nope, she's here? Sure enough, when I opened the classroom door, Yoo Sera was sitting at her desk. She wasn't playing—just raising and lowering her bow hand, testing something out.
Our eyes met briefly, and she suddenly called out to me.
"Hey! Jeong-ui, perfect timing. Can you record me real quick?"
"Huh?"
She casually held out her phone like it was no big deal.
"Me playing. I wanna see my hand movements on video. Come on, record it for me."
I hesitated for a second but nodded. "Sure."
Warm... Her phone felt toasty in my hand. And I noticed the cute charms and stickers dangling from it.
"What're you doing? Having fun checking out my phone?"
Shit! She was squinting at me, so I hurriedly switched to the camera.
"Just hit record, right?"
"Yeah."
I took the phone and shifted my position a bit. Stepped back a few paces, and now she was fully in frame. Sera took a deep breath, raised her bow.
In the quiet classroom, only the clear violin notes rang out. I watched the screen intently, focusing on her hands.
As I recorded, a few awkward moments crept in. The sound felt off too—like it was catching somehow.
I couldn't help glancing at Sera. She snuck a peek at me too.
No words, but her face said it all: You noticed it too, huh?
When she finished, Sera came right over to check the video. Rewound a few seconds, paused, replayed.
Then she let out a small sigh.
"Haa... I know how to approach the technique, but actually applying it feels so damn awkward."
I nodded immediately. "I get that feeling."
She looked at me, so I naturally shared my own story.
"I'm working on this sinker right now, but it's not clicking. Supposed to grip it like this and throw, right? But it's tricky. Won't go where I want..."
Sera dipped her head a little, then looked back up at me.
"Yeah... you're struggling with that too, huh?"
"Yeah."
Short answer, but it carried a lot. We were standing before the exact same wall. We knew what needed doing, knew the direction, but our hands and bodies just wouldn't cooperate naturally.
"Kinda... frustrating."
She said it, and I nodded quietly. No need for words—we totally got each other.
"Sera, how've you handled stuff like this before?"
"Me? Hmm... Mom and Dad are in the field, so I ask them. Or I hunt down videos myself... stuff like that."
Hmm... Ask Dad? Not a bad idea. But maybe watch more videos first, try it myself...
"This time, though, it's not coming easy."
"Same... Everything else clicked fine..."
We locked eyes again. Suddenly, not nailing the sinker right now didn't feel so bad. Sharing this weird kinship with Sera felt good.
Classes started, and after a few morning periods, break time before lunch rolled around. I was slumped over my desk, lost in thought, when someone stood next to me.
"Jeong-ui."
I looked up—Lee Seung-min.
Huh? What's this sudden visit? I stared at him like, Why're you here?
"What's up?"
He gave a light smile. "Oh! Coach said to drop by sometimes, so here I am?"
Oh, right. I remembered Coach introducing us. Lee Seung-min—the 2nd-year doing pretty well in the baseball team. And he told Kim Na-seong, the catcher, to look out for me too.
I tilted my head. "Uh... I'm good, no issues. Anything to pass on?"
He glanced away for a sec, mumbling. "Nah, nothing like that. Just... they said you did great in practice."
Hmm...? Did he really need to come all the way here for that? Could've mentioned it in passing. But sending him off now would just make things awkward.
So I figured, might as well chat a bit. Coach mentioned him on purpose—probably to break the ice since we'd be teammates going forward. Plus, I was the only baseball guy in this class, so maybe he was making an effort. Takes real work to seek someone out like this. I might not have bothered.
That thought made me drop the cold shoulder. Just then, Yoo Sera looked up from beside me—she'd been listening.
"Huh? Seung-min, what's up in our class?"
Seung-min pointed at me casually. "Here for Jeong-ui."
Sera nodded. "Oh, right! Yeah, Jeong-ui's on the team now."
Her reaction felt oddly loaded. I stayed quiet, watching their exchange.
Huh? They know each other? Makes sense—maybe same class in 1st year... Nah. The wall between sports specials like baseball and regular kids is thick. Sera's arts special, though, not athletic...
"Did a scrimmage yesterday—whole team was solid."
"Yeah? Jeong-ui too?"
"Yep. Came in against the 3rd-years, threw some good stuff. Gave up a hit to the captain, though..."
Sera always seemed clued in on baseball team gossip, and suddenly it clicked why. Was it because of Seung-min? The thought lingered, insignificant but nagging.
They chatted briefly, but something soured in my chest. No one's fault, nothing happened, but my mood just sank for no reason. Seung-min's casual grin, Sera's easy vibe—it all grated a little. Couldn't even pinpoint why, which made it worse. Just a break time, but my head was a mess.
The glum mood stuck all day, but I couldn't slack off. Had to get shit done. Home from afternoon training—still couldn't handle the sinker. Tonight's mission: figure out how to throw the damn thing right.
Dumped my bag, sat at my desk. Fired up the computer, scoured videos of underhand pitchers throwing sinkers. Studied the release angle, hand at the moment of release, the ball's sinking path—everything in detail.
Made sense in my head, but picturing my own hand throwing it? All fuzzy. Theory and body weren't syncing.
Knock knock.
I was zoned in when the knock came.
"Huh?"
Door cracked open—Dad walked in.
"Uh...?"
"Making any progress?"
Casual check-in, but I flinched anyway. He glanced at my screen, saw the baseball vid playing, nodded without a word. Gave me this look like, At least you're trying.
That gaze bugged me. I hesitated, then spoke up.
"Dad... how do you throw a sinker?"
He shrugged like it was nothing. "I didn't really throw sinkers."
Brain freeze. No sinkers?
"Wait, but underhand's supposed to rely on sinkers?"
He shrugged again. "Didn't need 'em. Worked fine without."
Something boiled up inside. Ugh... Shouldn't have asked someone with Dad's talent.
He wasn't wrong—spot on, even. Dad's prime weapon was the frisbee slider. The legend who made lefties flail at pitches drilling their ribs. With one perfect pitch, you don't need backups. He proved it, all the way to the majors.
Asking him about my roadblock suddenly felt stupid. Laughable, even.
Dad either got it or didn't—didn't say more, just left. Door shut. I stared at the screen. Video still rolling, but now my head was more tangled.
Didn't wanna compare, but I did it anyway—and hated myself for it.
Still, I had to throw it. Find the answer myself.
With that, I rewound the video to the start.
"...Maybe I should record myself throwing too..."