The Plan Crumbles
A hiss cut through the air.
Thwack.
"Ball."
Everyone has a plan.
"Ball."
We're screwed.
"Ball."
Shit.
"Ball!"
But if every plan actually went the way it was supposed to, everybody would be a success.
"Ball! Batter to first!"
A groan rolled out of the dugout. Another runner crossed the plate.
"Ball."
And still the walks would not stop. Choi Seungtaek stared straight ahead, cold sweat beading on his skin. What he saw on the mound was a pitcher whose face had gone completely rigid.
This is bad. He's locked up. What happens if he walks another one?
Seungtaek checked the pitcher's condition.
Gu Taejin, a first-year Seungtaek had ranked as the team's third pitcher, had done nothing but throw balls in the bottom of the first and loaded the bases. Loading them wasn't enough—he had already pushed one run across, and his command still hadn't come back. So here they were: one run already in, and still nobody out with the bases full.
How the hell do I fix this…
This was exactly why baseball was a pitcher's game. If one man on the mound couldn't find the zone, the other team's hitters didn't have to do a thing—the runs just kept walking in.
A pitcher who can't put it in the strike zone.
If the ball kept leaking over the heart of the plate, the defense might still get lucky and clean it up. But a parade of balls? There was no answer for that.
They had put up four in the top of the first and expected an easy afternoon. Instead, they were already drowning before the inning was even over.
The next pitch whistled in. Seungtaek hopped and snagged it. Another ball.
God. This is going to drive me insane.
He glanced at the dugout. No change sign. Kim Ik-hyun hadn't even started warming anyone in the bullpen.
Hah. Coach isn't pulling him. Fine. Even if they square it up—down the middle.
Gu Taejin, Suseok High's starter, nodded. He still looked like a man about to come apart.
The ball hissed. It popped into the mitt. Ball again. Three balls. One more and the batter would take first, and the runner at third would trot home for the second time.
"Hooo."
There was nothing. And because Seungtaek was the one who had pushed for Gu Taejin to start, he was the one going out of his mind.
How do I get him to locate?
Kim Ik-hyun was testing him. A starter losing the strike zone was hardly rare in high school ball. Suseok High had just been spoiled—Kang Taepoong and Lee San, two A Grade prospects, had made the program look unusually blessed. The coach wanted to see how Seungtaek handled a pitcher, so he sat on his hands and watched. The lineup was good enough that even if they gave the lead away, they could take it right back. Kim Ik-hyun could afford to wait.
Seungtaek was the one left holding the bag. He turned it over in his head.
The only way to find the zone is to throw a strike. But first I have to get the kid to breathe.
He spoke to the home plate umpire and went to the mound. A catcher was only allowed out there twice a game. Burning one in the first inning felt early—but with the pitcher spraying everything, calming him down now was the right call.
Seungtaek kept his voice as even as he could.
"What's the problem?"
"I'm sorry, senior. They told me I was starting out of nowhere, and I just… I got too nervous."
Fair enough. This wasn't some weekend league game. It was the President's Cup quarterfinals. Scouts from the clubs were packed in the stands, and the cameras were rolling. By that standard, the start should have gone to a second- or third-year—someone who already counted as a veteran in this tournament.
"You see Coach over there?"
"Yes."
"Does he look pissed to you?"
"I… I don't know."
"See how he hasn't even put anyone in the bullpen? He wants you to get the experience. You understand?"
Gu Taejin dropped his head. The pep talk had been meant to put steel in him. It only seemed to pile more weight on his shoulders.
"Hey. Head up. You know I'll wreck you. This is on TV, you idiot."
Gu Taejin's chin snapped back up.
"Surprised you got the ball today, huh?"
"Yes. I was."
"You know why you're starting?"
"I don't, senior."
"I asked for it. I told them to give you the ball."
Gu Taejin's eyes went wide.
"Kang Taepoong and Lee San aren't pitching today. We're going with whoever's left. Out of that group, you've got the best stuff, so I went to Coach and made the case."
"Even so… the other seniors, more than me…"
"You're only going five anyway. We'll cover the rest with the other guys. I talked you up. So do the job."
Gu Taejin just worked his mouth, no words coming out.
"Forget the rest of it and throw it down the middle. I don't care if they get a hit. I don't care if they take you deep. Our bats are good, you hear me? Their pitching staff is nothing special. Trust me and throw."
"Yes. I understand."
Some of the tightness left Gu Taejin's face.
"Good. Let's go again."
With that, Seungtaek went back behind the plate and settled into his crouch. He pulled up the System. Something had shifted.
So the slider's his pitch. Then we go slider.
Gu Taejin nodded at the sign.
The ball sang in. It smacked the mitt.
Strike!
Whether the talk had actually settled him or not, the pitch had finally found the zone.
Again. One more.
If he could put it in the exact same spot, they might actually climb out of this.
Gu Taejin let out a long breath and nodded.
The pitch ripped in and popped the leather.
Strike two!
Down the middle again. Seungtaek looked at the hitter. The kid had been taking all inning, riding the walk train—but now that the zone was back, he couldn't just stand there.
Why's it locating now, of all times? Yeah. That's the face.
The batter did not look happy. He was the six-hole, already into the bottom of the order. Full count, two strikes and three balls. A minute ago there had been no way through. Now there was a sliver of light.
The problem was how to put him away with a pitch that kept leaking over the heart of the plate.
Will a fastball even find the zone? Please. Just get it in there. I don't even care if he rips a hit.
Even if both pitches leaked over the middle, two different looks in the same spot could still steal a hitter's timing.
Gu Taejin nodded.
The fastball hissed. The bat came around. The ball popped the mitt.
Strikeout!
The heater hadn't located. It ran away outside—but the hitter had swung through it, and that was one out.
Still can't throw the fastball down the middle, huh?
One out was still one out.
Let's go again.
A nod. The pitch came in singing—and the bat found it.
Crack.
It was only the seven-hole, but he wasn't about to miss a breaking ball served up over the heart of the plate. The ball skipped over second and rolled toward center. The runners at second and third both scored.
Four to three. A game that had been a comfortable lead was suddenly at their throats. One out, runners at first and second.
A new hitter stepped in. The umpire put a ball in play. The first inning felt like it would never end.
They probably felt the same way we did in the top half.
Seungtaek settled back into his crouch.
Gu Taejin nodded. Same pitch they'd already gotten burned on. Seungtaek didn't have a choice.
The ball came in—and in the same instant, Seungtaek saw the runner at second break.
Oh, you son of a bitch.
They had read the first-pitch breaker perfectly. Then the runner at first took off for second as well.
The ball popped the mitt.
The jump and the speed on the guy at second are too good. Even if I throw to third, I'll be late.
Seungtaek snapped into his footwork.
Then I at least have to kill the steal of second.
He fired to second in a hurry.
"Safe!"
A hair late. He couldn't get the tag.
Hah. Back to one out, second and third. Now what.
He looked at the dugout. Still nothing from the coach. Handle it yourself.
He's really putting the screws to me this time. I asked for this kid—so I own whatever happens?
Seungtaek thought hard.
Better to fill first. I don't care if we walk him. We have to get the fastball back in the zone. We can't live on the slider alone.
Seungtaek put the sign down again. Gu Taejin nodded, as if he understood exactly what Seungtaek wanted, and threw the heater.
It hissed in and sailed to the right. Ball. But it felt different. Before, there had been no control at all. Now there was a hint of it.
The pitch hissed and popped. Off to the right again—but only by about a ball's width this time.
Good. It's walking in.
The ball hissed and smacked leather, clipping the edge of the zone by half a ball. The hitter flinched. Seungtaek waited on the call. It never came.
"Ball four. Batter takes first."
The hitter let out a breath and walked down to first. The nine-hole stepped in, a righty. Seungtaek set up on the outer half.
He opened the glove in almost the same spot as before.
The pitch hissed in and punched the mitt.
Strike!
Seungtaek allowed himself a satisfied smile. Gu Taejin's face brightened with it.
He's locating now. You guys are done.