Three Rabbits
A pitcher with excellent control can guide the direction of a batted ball.
Of course, that does not mean they can perfectly dictate where every ball goes. It simply means they can influence it.
And Do Jeong-hoo’s control was unnaturally good. Manager Dong Sang-guk, who once had him under his command, had once described it as “the kind of control you only see in comics.” Roughly on the same level as my own plate discipline, I supposed.
Fungo time, huh…
During the 2024 Korean Series, the opposing Seoul Wolves bench had thrown everything they had at stopping me. One of those plans had been to steer my batted balls in a single direction.
A pitcher with pinpoint control would guide the ball toward a defender with elite range. The pitcher tasked with executing that plan had been Do Jeong-hoo. It had failed, of course.
Still, the “fungo time” he had just mentioned was very likely to become reality.
Crack!!
An ordinary grounder rolled toward third base.
Thud.
I scooped it up lightly and threw.
Pop!!
“Out!”
Too easy.
“Hey! Why’s that swing so weak?!”
The mask over his mouth did nothing to stop Do Jeong-hoo’s nonsense. Worse still—
“Whose side is that guy even on?”
A pitcher disappointed in a batter for hitting a routine grounder. What parallel universe of baseball was this?
“Tsk!”
Even the catcher, who should have been reining in the pitcher’s antics, clicked his tongue as if he found the batter just as unsatisfactory.
I shook my head at the absurdity. The Nanum All-Stars’ leadoff hitter trudged back to the dugout, and the next batter stepped in.
Crack!!
A fastball jammed inside on a right-handed hitter came screaming my way at serious speed.
“Yes!”
I ignored Do Jeong-hoo’s shout, took a few quick steps back, and timed the hop perfectly into my glove. Accounting for the runner’s solid speed, I threw without hesitation.
Pop!!
“Out!”
Two outs.
Unlike the Dream All-Stars’ spectacular hitting display in the top of the first, the Nanum All-Stars had handed over two outs with almost nothing to show for it.
And of course the Dream All-Stars battery was already complaining.
“Ah!”
“He actually caught that.”
They were disappointed that the outs had been recorded.
“Crazy bastards.”
I had worried the two of them might start fighting—both had temperaments that could start a war—but the moment they found a common enemy, the two prideful geniuses had fallen straight into the classic “no choice, temporary alliance for now” cliché.
The problem was—
I’m the common enemy.
For a pair of guys with no friends, their affection was way too aggressive.
Tick.
A high foul from the third batter.
I sprinted toward the Dream All-Stars dugout, leaned against the railing, and lifted my glove.
Thud.
“Out!”
Final out of the inning.
“Wow… he didn’t even move.”
Kim Jae-sang had stood completely still at home plate, as if catching foul balls was solely my job, looking utterly serene about it.
“Crazy bastard…”
I stood there dumbfounded. The damn catcher patted my shoulder on his way into the dugout.
“Good work.”
And the pitcher was still spouting nonsense.
“Man, he actually caught it. I was ready to yell at him if he missed.”
“Haa…”
An infielder had no power to resist the tyranny of a battery that held the right to throw the ball.
Top of the second.
Leading off, ninth batter An Sung-woo showed exactly what he was good at even in an All-Star Game.
In other words—
Tick.
“Safe!”
A surprise bunt put him on first. And then—
Park Ji-han, who had gone from “Fake Hyun-seo” to “Post Ryu Hyun-seo,” ripped another hit. Funny how they called him Fake Hyun-seo while Ryu Hyun-seo was still in the KBO, then switched to Post Ryu Hyun-seo the moment the real one left for the big leagues. Park Ji-han had to find that a little ridiculous.
Or maybe he doesn’t think about it at all.
Given how hardcore a Ryu Hyun-seo fanboy he was, he might even like it.
“An Sung-woo bunt single. Park Ji-han double, single.”
The hitters in the Dream All-Stars starting lineup were putting up absurd numbers today.
“This isn’t good…”
For someone aiming for Mister All-Star, the news was mildly annoying. Everyone else was supposed to perform just okay.
“Good work out there~”
My second at-bat.
“Left-handed this time?”
Left-handed hitter Gong Ji-hoo stepped in.
“Huh? I’m a lefty, though?”
“You were batting right earlier.”
“That was power-hitting righty Gong Ji-hoo.”
This was the original Gong Ji-hoo.
“I’m retiring after this season, you know? Seriously, you’ve got a little share of the blame for that, Ji-hoo.”
“Oh no…”
I actually liked Han Seong-gon.
“The Irons fall apart without you, hyung. One more year?”
“Why are you worrying about our team?”
I said it half-jokingly, but the part about not wanting him to retire was completely sincere.
Han Seong-gon and Song Han-su. Two veterans entering the twilight of their careers. Seniors worth respecting, and older brothers I genuinely wanted to stay close with.
Pop!!
“Ball.”
The first pitch of my second at-bat was the same diving breaking ball the pitcher had thrown endlessly in my first plate appearance.
He had clearly remembered the massive windmill swings I’d shown earlier. Unfortunately for him, power-hitting righty Gong Ji-hoo and original Gong Ji-hoo had completely different mindsets.
Still, I hate walks.
A pitcher who had already given up five runs would naturally hate giving up any more. His real problem, though—
Facing me is already stressful, but if he walks me, he gets Kim Jae-sang with the bases loaded and nobody out…
Please just pitch to me.
“Hoo.”
The pitcher took a deep breath, then pointed a finger straight at me.
“Ohhh, this guy knows how to play.”
I liked him a lot.
Pop!!
“Strike!”
I let the pitch go by without swinging. It looked like something that would never produce a good result even if I put wood on it. I was still the original Gong Ji-hoo, but I was also hunting for Mister All-Star. I needed a home run.
Back-to-back home runs from both sides of the plate. A record so rare in KBO history you could count the instances on one hand. Today I, a non-switch-hitter, was going to try for it.
It won’t go in the official record books since this isn’t a regular-season game.
But the impact would be more than enough.
Pop!!
“Strike!”
Pop!!
“Ball.”
Tick.
“Foul!”
I waited for a pitch I could drive for a home run.
Whoosh!!
A tired pitcher finally left one over the heart of the plate.
Now!
Crack!!!!
The ball rocketed toward the right-field wall. Exit velocity was excellent, launch angle solid, distance looked more than enough—
But this was Powderz Ballpark. The brand-new stadium in Daejeon that featured a massive wall designed to stop left-handed hitters.
The eight-meter Monster Wall.
Just yesterday, the Powders’ own power hitters had failed to clear it even once.
My bat flipped through the air in a flashy arc.
Fortunately, the ball cleared the Monster Wall by the barest of margins and disappeared.
-Waaaaaah!!
I raised both arms high and rounded the bases in celebration.
Unlike power-hitting righty Gong Ji-hoo, for whom home runs were routine, original Gong Ji-hoo knew how to be grateful for every single one.
Two at-bats, two home runs, five RBIs. And back-to-back from both sides of the plate. At this point, who else is getting Mister All-Star but me?
“Gong Ji-hoo, Kim Jae-sang. You’re both coming out after this defensive half.”
“Tsk… I wanted one more at-bat.”
Even with Kim Jae-sang’s grumbling, Manager Kim Tae-sik was firm.
“We have to give the other guys a chance. And you two have the Home Run Derby, so focus on that.”
“Yes, sir!”
I answered cheerfully.
Kim Jae-sang’s already out of the way.
Crack!!
A hard liner headed over my head. I jumped and snagged it.
“Out!”
With Mister All-Star drawing closer, I was in an excellent mood. Good enough that even the second-inning “Do Jeong-hoo fungo party” felt delightful. Both balls in the bottom of the second came my way—including the diving catch—and I turned them into outs with a bright smile on my face.
“Ah, boring.”
Do Jeong-hoo clicked his tongue at me.
“What are you gonna do about it? What can you even do, hyung?”
Tick.
A surprise bunt from the sixth batter rolled toward third. The battery just stood there watching it.
I charged, barehanded the ball, and fired to first.
Whoosh!!
Pop!!
“Out!”
Result: out. The bottom of the second ended just as emptily as the first.
The fans rooting for the Nanum All-Stars had to be getting headaches, even if this was only an exhibition.
“Man… Do Jeong-hoo hyung is something else.”
“What is?”
“He only threw six pitches across two innings.”
“…Huh?”
Six pitches, six outs. A bizarre record. The biggest obstacle on the road to Mister All-Star had been created by—
“I handled every single one of those.”
—me.
Before the sixth inning began, the Home Run Derby final started.
“Jae-sang. You said earlier you’d make me the main character, right?”
“Did I? I don’t really remember.”
The matchup between Gong Ji-hoo and Kim Jae-sang, the two Jeil High classmates, ended more anticlimactically than expected.
Crack!!!!
It’s gone! Gong Ji-hoo! Eleven home runs, far surpassing yesterday’s record! Who on earth still refuses to call this player a home run hitter?!
Thirteen balls over the wall in a single day. He’s a true monster.
Kim Jae-sang also topped his own mark from yesterday with nine home runs, but he still couldn’t catch Gong Ji-hoo.
2025 KBO All-Star Game Home Run Derby! The final winner is the current league home run leader! The only .400 hitter! A complete hitter with over thirty home runs already in the first half! The Rhinos’ Gong Ji-hoo!
Gong Ji-hoo’s victory.
A big reason was that Fletcher, Gong Ji-hoo’s batting-practice pitcher, had simply thrown pure batting-practice balls today instead of whatever he had done yesterday.
“Hmm… five million won. Want to split it?”
“No need. I’m not the type to squeeze the liver out of a flea.”
“Oh, old man, you’ve really become a full Korean.”
Pop!!
“Strike!”
Pop!!
“Strike!”
Pop!!
“Strikeout!”
Bottom of the ninth.
The Dream All-Stars’ closer was, as expected, Oh Jin-muk.
And he finished the inning without allowing a run, as expected. In fact—
One inning, nine pitches, three strikeouts.
A perfect inning. There was nothing to say except that Oh Jin-muk had simply been Oh Jin-muk.
The 2025 KBO All-Star Game ended in a complete victory for the Dream All-Stars. And the MVP of the All-Star Game, Mister All-Star, went to neither Do Jeong-hoo, who had thrown six pitches for six outs, nor Oh Jin-muk, who had thrown a perfect inning.
Prize money earned in a single day: fifteen million won total. A sum equal to half of last year’s salary for me, plus—
-Waaaaaaaah!!
—the cheers of the fans, and the honor of the trophy.
I had caught three rabbits at once and let out a scream of pure joy.
.
.
.
“Man… Mister All-Star! Your ears are practically hanging off your mouth.”
“Come on, hyung. Congrats to you too.”
I smiled back at Jang Tae-wook. He had made the All-Star Game on the manager’s recommendation and had just won the Best Performance Award.
“Hahaha! What did you think of the performance I prepared in secret?”
“I thought you’d actually lost your mind.”
How does anyone even come up with the idea of riding a motorcycle into a baseball stadium?