Chapter 5
Chapter 5
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Desperate Struggle
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Whish!
Whoosh
Thwack!
Strike out!
A ferocious fastball clocking the late 150s kph got sucked straight into the catcher's mitt.
Choi Seung-taek swung the bat, but it cut through empty air.
The broadcast team covering the Blue Dragon Cup quarterfinals couldn't stop praising Go Tae-san.
Choi Seung-taek glanced up at the scoreboard. Go Tae-san's velocity was clocked at 159 kph.
A 159 kph fastball was something even pro-level Choi Seung-taek had rarely seen.
He'd thought his pro experience had closed the gap, but that late-150s heat made it all feel meaningless.
After striking out, Choi Seung-taek trudged back to the dugout.
"How's it feel? That ball's no joke, right? Think you can even ground one out today?"
"Nah. We're screwed. Lucky if we even foul one off. I'd kill to just make contact."
Everyone was probably thinking the same thing.
"At this rate, we're getting perfect-ed, aren't we?"
Captain Han Bang-man shook his head slowly as he said it.
'Bang-man gets it. Captain's got the instincts. Yeah, we're getting perfect-ed.'
Strike out! Inning over!
While Choi Seung-taek chatted with Han Bang-man for a moment, the #9 hitter struck out too.
At least designated hitter I San, batting third, grounded out to shortstop—preventing a string of nine straight strikeouts.
As the lineup came full circle, every player who felt the wall head-on had a stiff, hardened expression.
'They all had faces like that back then too. And it's only the third inning—they're already deflated.'
Choi Seung-taek had figured his pro experience could spark some change, but Go Tae-san remained an impossibly tall wall.
To make a change, something else was needed.
Top of the sixth, Buma High came up to bat again.
Thankfully, Suseok High hadn't allowed any more runs in the meantime—Buma's hitters still couldn't solve Kang Tae-pung.
Using Kang Tae-pung's stuff and the system's info, they'd targeted only the weak zones in the expansive blue strike zone. And it had worked.
But...
'I can feel them getting used to the ball bit by bit. The lefty velocity has held them off so far, but it's starting to get tough.'
Buma High's #1 hitter Go Myeong-jin stepped up to the plate again.
'We've been riding Tae-pung's velocity so far, but from here on, we need to focus more on pitch sequencing.'
'Huh?'
Whish
Crack!
Buma High's leadoff man Go Myeong-jin yanked an inside fastball cleanly, like he'd seen it coming.
He ripped another single through the 1-2 hole.
The numbers game had been read completely—the blue dot inside vanished.
'Damn... So we have to factor in the count wars too? It changes in real time.'
The system didn't reveal everything perfectly. Even advantageous spots could get you if you kept challenging them the same way.
"Whew. Not easy. Got complacent."
He glanced at Kang Tae-pung, then at the runner Go Myeong-jin on first.
'Steal again? Nah, bunt's more likely. Even if he goes, I won't miss this time. I know the timing.'
Choi Seung-taek looked toward the dugout. Coach Kim Ik-hyeon was signaling for a bunt too, instructing the fielders to charge in.
Having hastily relearned signs, Choi Seung-taek now relayed them to the infielders.
Buma High's #2 hitter squared to bunt.
'That's right, bunt away. Makes you ripe for punishment.'
Choi Seung-taek positioned his mitt high in the strike zone. High heat to pop it up.
Whish!
Pop!
"It's up!"
The high fastball sent Buma High's #2 bunter's attempt skyward.
Kang Tae-pung settled under the pop fly and snagged it. The ump called infield fly, and runner Go Myeong-jin hustled back to first.
"Nice! One at a time, nice and easy!"
'Alright then, what's your move? Buma coach?'
Buma High's #3 hitter Im Seong-han stepped in.
'Bunt failed, runner's antsy. Lead's gotten bigger. Have Tae-pung hold him? Or should I block the steal?'
Nod.
Kang Tae-pung threw to first. Buma's Go Myeong-jin slid back safely.
'They're signaling something from the bench. Lead's smaller, but he'll go now.'
Choi Seung-taek's eyes gleamed.
This time, Choi Seung-taek signaled purely with signs—no outside sit.
Nod.
Choi Seung-taek readied his quick-release stance. Steals came down to tenths of seconds—he focused.
Not sitting outside made the runner think he had the edge. A pro trick Choi Seung-taek used often.
Kang Tae-pung delivered—the runner bolted from first.
'Knew it.'
Whish
Whoosh!
Swing!
Choi Seung-taek fired to second the instant he caught it.
"Second!"
His throw rocketed true—to second baseman Seo Gi-hyeon's left hip.
Seo Gi-hyeon snagged it and tagged.
Out!
"Nice!"
Cheers erupted around him, but Choi Seung-taek wasn't smiling. Trajectory perfect, but velocity lacking.
'Shoulder's fresh, that's great—but needs more muscle.'
"Hoo..."
"Choi Seung-taek? You catch pretty good."
A thick Gyeongsang accent hit his ears.
'What, chatty Tarzan?'
"Oh? You here?"
"Here? This guy's a riot."
"Why's that surprising?"
"Damn, aren't you straight Seoul now? How's your tone flip like that?"
Choi Seung-taek's sudden Gyeongsang dialect caught Im Seong-han off guard.
Im had tried a little verbal jab, but Choi Seung-taek brushed it off casually—leaving Im slightly rattled instead.
He could've ignored him outright, but Choi Seung-taek spoke up to gauge Im Seong-han.
'Hmm... Confidence from a powerhouse team? Way too comfy.'
Choi Seung-taek refocused on the game. The strike zone he saw flushed deep red again.
But the outside was all blue—plenty to work with.
Whiiish
Thud!
Strike!
The ball just clipped the zone. With all the pitches thrown, Kang Tae-pung was dulling a bit.
Kang Tae-pung wiped sweat and deep-breathed. To Choi Seung-taek, he didn't look long for the game.
Still, first-pitch strike kept things favorable.
Choi Seung-taek called for the same.
Whiiiish
Crack!
A dull crack echoed as the ball sailed long.
Foul!
Luckily, it stayed fair-side.
'Definitely weak outside. Swing's awkward. Two strikes, no balls. Our edge now. Could waste one to gauge, but that racks up pitches.'
Choi Seung-taek eyed Kang Tae-pung. Fatigue showed plainly.
'To win, Tae-pung's gotta go nine. Cut the pitch count.'
He looked at Im Seong-han—still choking up long on the bat.
'So, put-away pitch it is. But will he bite?'
Choi Seung-taek signaled, set up dead center, then swept the dirt. Low and away.
Kang Tae-pung hesitated at the middle call.
'Come on, just throw it.'
Nod.
A wicked slider snapped from Kang Tae-pung's hand.
Whiiiiiish!
Whoosh
Thud
Whiff! Strike out!
Inning over!
"Yes! Fan's blowing cool today."
"Whatchu say? Be right back!"
Im Seong-han, stung by the whiff K, fired back cockily but headed to the Buma dugout.
Mokdong Field, home of the Blue Dragon Cup, drew scouts from various pro clubs.
Buma High especially, loaded with talent across positions, pulled in crowds of pro scouts.
Suseok High drew them for Kang Tae-pung, but they checked the rest too.
"That kid's looking pretty solid."
"Who, Kang Tae-pung? Yeah, he's gold. Lefty fireballer. We'd love him, but first-round to the Falcons."
Scouts from some team scribbled notes on players.
"Team leader, not talking Tae-pung."
"Then who?"
"Suseok's catcher? Let up one steal in the first, but otherwise solid all around."
"True. Hitting's tough to judge against Tae-san's stuff. Defense looks good, though."
"Worth a draft look?"
The scout cautiously asked his team lead.
"Put him on the list. Shame we can't scout his bat with Tae-san dealing."
"I'll keep tabs. Suseok's coach was my high school senior—easy contact."
"Oh yeah? Do that then."