Even a Monster Hitter Is Still Human / Myo A-rin (1)
To think he fouled off even the slider of my life.
“Wow, that's actually insane. The moment it registers in his eyes, he just hits it.”
I let out a long breath as I watched the ball sail out past the foul line toward third base.
By now, the man called San Wool-lim had earned something close to reverence from me.
Yeah, this is what a gap in skill looks like, I guess.
They say he'd been called a prodigy since he was a kid.
“So this is talent...”
That said, I couldn't exactly slam San Wool-lim as some player who coasted on giftedness alone.
It was common knowledge in this industry that he showed up to the training grounds first every single day, without fail, and left last.
So when talent stacks on top of relentless effort, that's the kind of monster you get.
Could I ever beat him?
The thought came out of nowhere.
Even after grinding away a countless number of hours, could a mediocre nobody like me never beat a genius like that?
Negative feelings spread through my head in an instant.
No.
I shook my head hard, shaking off those garbage thoughts.
An opponent I couldn't beat in a fair, head-on fight.
But an opponent I had to beat, no matter what.
San Wool-lim, the hitter, was exactly that kind of opponent.
Then I'll just have to not be picky about my methods.
They say baseball is a mental sport.
Monster hitter or not, he was still human in the end.
“This is the real final showdown now!!! Whether it's death or dinner, I'm ending this with this pitch!”
And San Wool-lim was the kind of man every baseball fan loved.
Why? Because he was faithful to baseball itself, controversy-free — a genuinely upright man who, despite his overwhelming skill, was never arrogant and always poured sweat into his training.
Which meant he would believe, without a shred of doubt, my declaration that I'd finish this with this pitch.
Well, it's not even a lie. I really am going to end it.
Looking back over my pitching pattern so far, it was a play more than likely to work.
Worth a shot.
I steadied my breathing and, for no particular reason, kicked at the dirt of the mound with my foot.
I exchanged signs with the catcher, then gave the batter's face one slow, deliberate look.
Hand into the glove. Grip settled.
Delivery.
Underhand.
“Haap!”
I threw the ball with everything I had.
Thankfully, my control held.
The ball cut straight for the heart of the strike zone.
The batter's body shifted forward, committing to swing.
The bat whipped around, fast and sharp.
Thwack!
Only after San Wool-lim's swing had fully finished did the ball get sucked into the catcher's mitt.
“Strike three!!! You're out!!!!”
“YESSS!!!!!”
“HEY!!!! HAN-SAE!!!!”
Ho-ji came sprinting onto the mound and threw his arms around me.
Then the infielders and outfielders came charging in after him, all of us soaking in this moment of victory together.
Wait, why are you guys here too?
This was basically a Korean Series championship celebration.
“WE WON!!!!!!”
“YEAHHH!!!!!!”
“Jang Han-sae, what even ARE you!!!!”
“GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”
Yeah. This is what winning feels like.
This electric tingling rushing through my whole body.
I'd never felt anything like it since the day I started playing baseball.
“Incredible.”
Oh. It's the guy who just struck out.
San Wool-lim walked up to me and extended his hand.
Thankfully, both hands were in plain view — so no bat hidden up his sleeve, apparently.
“Ah... good work out there, sunbae-nim.”
I grabbed his hand while managing my expression as best I could.
“I didn't expect you to throw something that slow from out of nowhere. That was just a four-seam, right?”
So it was true — the man really did read even a ball's spin.
“Yes. Call it a four-seam slowball, maybe?”
“You completely flipped the script on me. I was fully expecting you to throw the same pitch you got homered on again.”
“Hahaha... I-I just got lucky, that's all.”
I barely reined in my itching, smart-aleck mouth and squeezed out some safe, generic humility.
I figured an experienced hitter like him had seen pitchers of every stripe over the years.
Among them, naturally, there'd be the ones with unusually fragile pride — and those types usually went right back to the pitch that had burned them.
My loud declaration that I'd end it with a decisive pitch was meant to make me look like exactly that kind of pitcher.
Besides, I was a rookie reliever fresh off my return to the second squad, with the entire coaching staff watching my every move.
There was only one pitch a batter could expect from me in that situation.
The high, middle-of-the-zone underhand fastball — the one he'd homered off earlier.
And instead, I'd shattered that expectation with a pitch so goddamn slow it was insulting.
I'd briefly considered throwing a true breaking ball, but choosing something that drastically different felt like it would get me absolutely wrecked by San Wool-lim's animal instincts.
Thankfully, my judgment proved dead-on this time.
“I thought you were just a switch pitcher with a variety of forms, but your true weapon was something else entirely, huh?”
Whoa. Am I... getting complimented by San Wool-lim right now?
“Th-thank you...”
“You helped me grow too. Next time I'm back in Korea, let's grab a meal. Today was a blast.”
“Ah... i-it was an honor, really! Thank you for facing me!”
I was deeply moved.
For a second-division pitcher who could be released any given day, what experience could be more valuable than a duel with a slugger good enough to hold his own on the world stage?
“Here's my number.”
WHOOOOOOOAAAAA!
The teammates watching the exchange erupted in cheers.
“I-it's an honor, sunbae-nim!”
“My heart hasn't raced like that in ages. I should go train while I'm feeling it.”
“You're not doing it here?”
“Ah, I have my own personal training facility. I'll train there.”
So this is how the rich live differently.
“Anyway, today was fun. I hope we get to face each other again sometime.”
“I-I'll work hard!”
“Right, I'll be off then. Ho-ji, good work to you too.”
“Yes, sir, sunbae-nim! It was truly an honor to meet you, sir!!!”
After parting ways with San Wool-lim, Ho-ji and I stood together on the mound for a while, savoring the lingering thrill that wouldn't leave us alone.
A rematch someday?
At those words, I caught myself picturing myself standing on a Major League mound.
Dreams are allowed, right?
Before long, the manager and coach came out to the mound.
“Hey! Han-sae! Unbelievable out there! You struck out San Wool-lim?”
“Ahahaha... I just got lucky, sir.”
At the coach's praise, my already puffed-up shoulders climbed even higher.
“Alright, everyone, stop crowding around here and get ready for your wrap-up training.”
At a wave of the manager's hand, the players clustered on the mound scattered to their respective positions.
“Good work out there. As promised, I'll put in a good word with the first-team coaching staff.”
“Thank you, sir!!”
“I've lived a long time and I've never seen a pitcher like you. What on earth happened to you in the army?”
Even if I told you the truth, sir, you wouldn't believe me.
“Hahaha...”
I let an awkward laugh answer for me.
“You were impressive. Now, you two — go get ready for your wrap-up drills.”
“Yes, sir!”
And so, following the manager's orders, I finished my wrap-up training and left the grounds with Ho-ji.
“Man, today you were straight-up legendary. You sure you're not on some kind of drugs?”
“You want some?”
“Yeah, gimme.”
“Hand.”
I held out my fist and dropped something into Ho-ji's palm.
“You son of a—!”
It was the paper wrapper from the gum in my pocket.
Chattering away with Ho-ji about everything that had happened that day, I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.
It was a tiny compact car that didn't match his frame at all — but hey, it was a ride.
“Heading up to Seoul? What for?”
“What do you think? Resting at home.”
“You seeing any girls?”
“Are you?”
“...We're leaving now.”
There was a decent stretch of time before our next training schedule, and the manager had told us to treat the whole period like a vacation.
I planned to head to my family home, spend some time with my mother, and get some proper rest.
It just so happened Ho-ji was also heading up to Seoul, so I'd decided to hitch a ride in his car.
“Hey, but seriously, that was amazing.”
“What was?”
“How the hell did you master all those different pitching forms?”
“I just practiced over and over without thinking about anything.”
Yeah. In a room where time stood still.
“Badass. You're making the first team this time.”
“Who knows... You're the one who's basically a lock, aren't you?”
“No clue. Depends on whether I end up going to Australia or Japan this spring, doesn't it?”
He was talking about spring camp — the overseas training held in warmer climates around late January to early February.
Both the first and second squads ran camps, but at different locations — Australia and Japan respectively — so we'd have to wait and see which squad we'd be assigned to.
“Let's go to Australia together.”
“Hell yeah! What's stopping us?”
And so, in the cramped confines of that little car, Ho-ji stamped his resolve alongside mine and hit the gas for Seoul.
***
“Mmm...”
I groaned as I stared at my phone screen.
“Why does she suddenly want to live in Korea?”
The day I'd been going through my discharge paperwork at the hospital—
“No, really, I can go by myself.”
Even though I'd told her I was perfectly capable of getting home on my own, my mother, worried sick about a son who'd just survived a major accident, had insisted on coming to pick me up.
But then something came up that day, and I was in the middle of a call when she told me she couldn't make it after all.
“I'm sorry, what? Why her? I keep telling you I can get there just fine on my own!”
“Ah... yes... yes, Ma...”
“Hey!”
A familiar voice called out from far away.
Myo A-rin.
“Oh, there she is now. Got it, Ma. Yes, see you later. Yeah...”
“That was your mom?”
“Yeah. I told her I could go alone, but she said you offered to come get me instead.”
“I mean, I had nothing better to do.”
“Sure you didn't. Let's just grab food or something.”
“What're you eating?”
“Jeyuk. Spicy pork.”
Say no more.
“Ah.”
At the lunch menu, A-rin's face went rigid.
“Let's do pork cutlets instead. I had jeyuk yesterday.”
“Now that's friendship. Let's go.”
And so we headed to a snack joint nearby, ordered two plates of fried pork with noodles, and were busily working through them when—
“So when are you heading back to Japan?”
“I'm not. I'm living in Korea now.”
“Kehk—!”
The sudden bombshell nearly launched the corn in my mouth across the table.
“Why?”
“...Because I graduated.”
“Oh...”
“You really have zero interest in me, don't you?”
“My bad.”
“If you're sorry, then help me move.”
“That's a bit much...”
And that was how I got roped into helping her move.
So that was today.
Honestly, I really, really didn't want to help, but a promise was a promise — so I slowly worked my fingers across the screen and texted her to send me the location.
Ding—
“Huh?”
The reply came back so fast that I doubted my own eyes.