On My Pitching Debut Being a Bases-Loaded, No-Outs Crisis in the Bottom of the Eighth
The man forming a battery with me in my debut wasn't Ho-ji — it was the team's veteran starting catcher, Song Gyeong-seok.
Despite being on the doorstep of retirement, he'd logged catcher duty for nearly a full season last year, and thanks to his meticulous conditioning he was back behind the plate as the starter on Opening Day again this year.
With no scouting information to lean on, this was exactly the kind of moment that demanded trust in a veteran who'd been through every war the game had to offer.
Fastball, up and in.
I nodded and squeezed the ball tight inside my glove.
[Caster] And here in the bottom of the eighth, with the bases loaded and nobody out, the Urbans are bringing in their second pitcher of the game — Jang Han-sae. This is his official professional debut. In the exhibition season, he appeared in 21 games, throwing 19 innings with a 5.79 ERA.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] That's certainly an unexpected choice. I don't know what Manager Han Seung-hyeop is thinking, but with even veteran pitchers struggling in this situation, he's sending up a rookie.
[Caster] As analyst Ahn Jung-hyeok just said, this is rookie Jang Han-sae's very first first-team appearance. Can this young right-hander overcome the pressure and protect the team's lead? Now stepping to the plate is the Fighters' foreign slugger, Carlos — the man who homered earlier today. Here comes the first pitch.
A-rin, watching the game on her phone, swallowed hard.
[Caster] A 140 km/h fastball up and in. First pitch is a strike, and Carlos just takes it for a called strike one.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Yes, he threw that one exactly the way Song Gyeong-seok called it — very calm, very composed. You can really feel the difference a veteran catcher makes.
“Phew… my hands are shaking too much to watch this.”
A-rin let out a sigh of relief.
[Caster] Second pitch. Here it comes — a changeup low and in! He swings and misses! Two strikes!
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Hahaha! Carlos was completely fooled there. A beautiful off-speed pitch that robbed the batter of his timing entirely.
[Caster] A 110 km/h changeup. Even under this crushing pressure, Jang Han-sae is executing exactly what his catcher calls for.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Right, he's been pitching with real composure so far.
[Caster] And he's going right back to work on the third pitch— oh, Carlos has called time, and the umpire grants it.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Jang Han-sae works with an incredibly quick tempo, doesn't he? He was about to throw the very next second.
[Caster] Yes, and Carlos looks genuinely startled by it.
A-rin snickered at the scene playing out on her screen.
“What a little sneak.”
His windup had been compressed to the absolute minimum, clearly designed to shatter the batter's focus.
[Caster] Carlos's expression is a picture right now.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Hahaha! He looks utterly dissatisfied.
“You jerk! What are you looking at?!”
A-rin found herself snapping at the completely innocent foreign batter on her screen.
[Caster] The batter is set again. Pitch number three.
"HRAAAH!"
[Caster] The runners are going! He hits it! A hard grounder right in front of the shortstop! Over to second, on to first — 6-4-3 double play! Meanwhile the runner from third scores, and the runner from second takes third. The score is 4-2! The Seoul Fighters close the gap to two runs!
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] Yes, he gave up a run, but pulling two outs out of a bases-loaded, nobody-out jam — from the Urbans' standpoint, that's a very favorable outcome.
[Caster] Absolutely. Two outs in one stroke, with a runner on third. You can hear the Fighters fans groaning all the way up here in the broadcast booth.
[Ahn Jung-hyeok] And what makes that double play sting even more is who's due up next — Kim Su-han, the man for clutch moments.
“Huaaaaah…”
A-rin melted onto the floor, stretching out flat.
“Baseball is seriously going to give me a nervous breakdown.”
Too bad the bases weren't still loaded.
Kim Su-han stepped into the box and cast a single leisurely glance toward the mound.
Jang Han-sae.
Right-handed overhand.
Debut game today.
Sure, the kid had gotten Carlos on a lucky double play, but odds were that was nothing more than beginner's luck.
Even in the exhibition games, I didn't feel anything special off him.
The pleasant memory of homering off him in the preseason was still fresh, and Kim Su-han's judgment was simple: this wasn't a tough matchup.
With two outs and first base empty, there was no way the pitcher would come at him with anything good. The kid was probably planning to walk him if he had to.
But Kim Su-han was one of the premier bad-ball hitters in the entire league.
Blessed with the finest hitting technique in the game, he was the kind of batter who could wring base hits out of pitches escaping the strike zone by twisting his body to reach them.
Not that I'd mind taking my bases on a walk.
Kim Su-han finished his signature pre-swing routine and settled into his stance. His hands tightened around the bat.
I want to give you an initiation you'll never forget — so that's not going to happen.
On the mound, the rookie continued his delivery, and the ball that left his hand came flying straight toward the heart of the strike zone.
A mistake! Typical rookie.
A grooved pitch down the middle under pressure — the most common sight in baseball. And with a debuting rookie on the mound, well, it was only natural.
Kim Su-han didn't let it escape and ripped a full swing.
“Huh?”
The bat that should have carried the heavy thud of contact told him nothing at all.
“Strike!”
Bringing the bat back from its clean slice through empty air, Kim Su-han smiled.
“Didn't know you had a forkball in you.”
Everything from his own head-to-head experience in the preseason and the team's scouting reports said the kid threw a slider and a curve, and that was it.
Of course, there were pitchers who deliberately hid pitches in exhibition games to minimize scouting exposure — but that was something only established first-team players could afford to do. A minor-league call-up had to prove his stuff by any means necessary just to crack the roster.
Come to think of it… he threw a changeup in his last at-bat too, didn't he?
The pitch that had left Carlos swinging like a desk fan. That changeup hadn't appeared in any report or preseason appearance either. A completely new pitch.
He's hiding his arsenal? Fine. Got it.
Kim Su-han wiped every scrap of information about Jang Han-sae from his mind.
He would approach the at-bat as if facing a total stranger from a blank slate — ready to hit whatever came at him. That was his mindset.
The second pitch. A curveball drifting off the outside edge. He could see from the instant it left the pitcher's hand that its path would carry it out of the zone, so he simply stood and waited.
Pitch three. Another curve, dropping down and away. He could have swung at it, but it wasn't a ball that would produce good contact, so he laid off again.
Painting the corners and running, just like I figured.
Nothing surprising in the pitching pattern. There was no reason to challenge the man who'd multi-hit off him in his previous at-bat head-on.
The fact that the manager hadn't called for an intentional walk despite being willing to concede a free pass meant the battery was calling its own game. In all likelihood, Jang Han-sae was simply following whatever the seasoned Song Gyeong-seok put down.
So what kind of guy are you?
A brash, cocky rookie? The ultra-competitive type whose hunger for the showdown made him screw up now and then?
Kim Su-han decided to poke the kid and find out.
He thrust the bat out toward the mound as if pointing a finger straight at the pitcher — then exaggerated his mouth into a wide, unmistakable shape and taunted him, mouthing every word.
At the batter's sudden provocation, a flicker of distortion crossed Jang Han-sae's face.
Satisfied with the reaction, Kim Su-han settled back into his hitting stance.
Up on the mound, the pitcher kept shaking his head through sign after sign with his catcher.
Which meant one thing: he was rejecting his catcher's calls.
There it is.
Kim Su-han was certain his needle had found its mark. The catcher had surely been asking for nothing but junk — another breaking ball yards outside the zone, most likely. Touch it with luck and it's a routine out; swing and miss and it's a strikeout. The worst-case scenario was a walk that merely filled first base. A perfectly rational call.
Refusing that kind of logic? He was rattled for sure.
Right — a pro's supposed to have at least that much pride.
As Jang Han-sae kept waving off the signs, Song Gyeong-seok finally climbed the mound himself.
“Tch. No fun.”
Kim Su-han felt the moment deflate.
If a living legend of a senior made the trip to the mound himself to deliver a stern word, the rookie would inevitably go back to throwing whatever the old man called. Which meant a walk was all that awaited him.
“And here I wanted to take you deep properly.”
A short moment later, the catcher trotted back down and reclaimed his crouch. Play resumed, and Kim Su-han gripped his bat without much expectation.
The fourth pitch came — and just as he'd predicted, a slider sweeping far outside.
“Pshh…”
Kim Su-han exhaled and waited on the fifth. Identical delivery.
Another breaking ball.
All the life had drained out of his swing; he didn't even feel like offering at it. He was already halfway to strolling toward first base, just watching the ball idly — when the pitch he'd expected to bend out of the zone came darting in hard, up and in on his hands.
“Shit!”
Kim Su-han twisted around too late, jamming the bat against the baseball. The ball fouled off weakly, miles away.
What the hell is with this kid? He wants a showdown?
Wearing a look of pure disbelief, Kim Su-han stared up at Jang Han-sae on the mound.
“What was that?”
The kid's lips were moving, shaping words meant just for him.