An Uphill Battle
A hiss of air. A swing through nothing. Leather exploded in the mitt.
Strikeout!
A vicious fastball in the upper 150s vanished into the catcher's glove. Choi Seungtaek had swung — and missed completely.
"Swing and a miss! Go Tae-san blows away the eight-hole hitter, Choi Seungtaek, on three pitches — sitting on another 159 km/h heater."
"Seven strikeouts already, and we're only in the third. Unbelievable."
The broadcast crew calling the Blue Dragon Cup quarterfinals couldn't stop heaping praise on Go Tae-san.
Choi Seungtaek looked up at the scoreboard. The gun had Go Tae-san at 159 km/h.
Heat like that was the kind of pitch Seungtaek had barely seen even in his professional days. He'd thought those years in the pros would close the gap. A fastball in the upper 150s made that experience look like nothing at all.
He trudged back to the dugout.
"So? That stuff's no joke, right? Think you can even roll over a grounder today?"
"Hell no. We're fucked. I'd be grateful if I even nicked one. I just want to foul something off."
Everyone in the dugout was thinking the same thing.
"We're not about to get perfect-gamed, are we?"
Han Bang-man shook his head as he said it.
That's Bang-man for you. Captain's instincts don't miss. We're getting perfect-gamed.
Strikeout! Side retired!
In the brief stretch while Seungtaek had been talking with Han Bang-man, the nine-hole hitter went down swinging. The only thing that had kept them from nine straight strikeouts was Lee San, batting third as the designated hitter, who'd at least managed a groundout to short.
After one time through the order, every player who'd seriously felt that wall had gone stiff-faced.
They all looked like this back then, too. It's only the third inning and they've already folded.
Seungtaek had figured his pro experience would at least let him create a little change. Go Tae-san's wall was still just as high.
To change anything, he was going to need something else.
The top of the sixth, and Buma High's turn at the plate came around again.
Fortunately, Buma High still hadn't solved Kang Taepoong, so Suseok High hadn't given up any more runs. Working off Taepoong's stuff and the data from the System, they'd attacked only the weakness zones painted a generous blue in the strike zone — and the method had worked.
But…
I can feel them getting comfortable with the pitches. We held on because he's a lefty with real heat, but this is about to get ugly.
Go Myeongjin, Buma High's leadoff man, settled into the box once more.
We've been leaning on Taepoong's stuff until now. From here on, I have to be sharper with the sequencing.
Inside Fastball
Huh?
The pitch hissed in — and cracked off the barrel.
Go Myeongjin yanked it like he'd known it was coming inside, ripping another single through the hole between first and second. Whether because the chess match had been completely read, the blue dot on the inner half vanished.
Damn… so I have to factor in the cat-and-mouse, too? It even updates in real time.
The System didn't tell him everything perfectly. Even a favorable location would get you burned if you kept going back to it.
"Whew. This isn't easy. I got lazy."
He looked from Kang Taepoong to Go Myeongjin standing on first.
Steal again? No. High chance they bunt. And even if he does run, I won't miss him this time. I've got the timing now.
Seungtaek glanced toward the dugout. Coach Kim Ik-hyun had expected the bunt as well, and was flashing the infield-in sign. Seungtaek, who'd had to relearn the signs in a hurry, understood it now and relayed it to the fielders.
Buma High's number-two hitter squared around to bunt.
Yeah. Bunt. I've got a way to make this miserable.
High Fastball
Seungtaek set his mitt at the top of the zone. A high fastball — pop the bunt up.
The pitch hissed in. A soft tap.
"It's up!"
The elevated heater forced the bunt into the air. Kang Taepoong camped under it and squeezed. The second-base umpire called the infield fly, and Go Myeongjin scrambled back to first.
"Yes! One at a time — nice and easy!"
All right then. What's your move, Coach?
Lim Seonghan, Buma High's three-hole hitter, stepped into the box.
Failed bunt, and now the runner's antsy. That's a big lead off first. Have Taepoong pick him? Or do I throw him out myself?
First-Base Pickoff
Kang Taepoong nodded and threw over. Go Myeongjin slid back into the bag.
He's getting something from their bench. Lead's a little shorter — but he's going this time.
Seungtaek's eyes lit up.
Pitchout
This time he didn't even set up outside — just the sign.
Kang Taepoong nodded. Seungtaek settled straight into a throwing stance. Steals were won and lost by a tenth of a second, and he locked in.
Because he hadn't set up away, the runner would think he had the edge. An old trick Seungtaek had used plenty in the pros.
Kang Taepoong delivered, and the runner broke from first.
Called it.
The pitch hissed wide. A swing cut through empty air. Seungtaek caught and fired to second in one motion.
"Second!"
The throw was perfect, arriving at second baseman Seo Gi-hyun's left hip. Seo Gi-hyun gloved it and slapped the tag.
Out!
"Nice!"
Cheers rose around him, but Seungtaek's face didn't brighten. The path had been perfect. The velocity had not.
Shoulder's plenty live. Just a little short on muscle.
"Hah…"
"Choi Seungtaek? Kid can play."
A thick Gyeongsang accent rolled in behind the plate.
What is this, a talkative Tarzan?
"Oh? You here?"
"You here? This bastard's a funny one."
"What, that surprise you?"
"Holy shit — now you just sound like you're from Seoul. How do you flip your tone like that?"
When the Gyeongsang accent came out of Seungtaek's mouth, Lim Seonghan looked a little startled. He'd been trying to lean on him with words. Seungtaek had brushed the gamesmanship aside like it was nothing, and Lim Seonghan was the one who ended up a little rattled.
He could have ignored him from the start. The reason Seungtaek had bothered to speak was to get a read on him. Catchers could talk to opposing hitters — you used the gap to probe, bit by bit. And from where Seungtaek sat, Lim Seonghan was plenty relaxed.
Hmm. Confidence from being on a powerhouse? Kid's way too comfortable.
Seungtaek turned his focus back to the game. The strike zone in his vision flushed a deep, angry red. But the outer half was all blue. There was a hole to attack.
Outside Fastball
The pitch hissed in. Leather popped.
Strike!
The ball barely caught the zone. After all those pitches, Seungtaek could feel Kang Taepoong's stuff starting to dull. Taepoong wiped sweat and drew a long breath. From where Seungtaek sat, he didn't look like he had a long outing left in him.
Still, a first-pitch strike. The count itself was in their favor.
Outside Fastball
Seungtaek asked for the same pitch again.
A long hiss. A dull crack, and the ball stretched out toward the line.
Foul!
It rolled harmlessly into foul territory. Good.
He's definitely mishitting the outer half. The swing looks awkward. Two strikes, no balls. We've got him now. I could waste one and see what he does — but that would run the pitch count too high.
Seungtaek looked at Kang Taepoong. No matter how he sliced it, the fatigue was showing.
If we're going to win this, Taepoong has to go nine. Let's keep the pitch count down.
He looked at Lim Seonghan. Still holding the bat long.
So the answer is the putaway pitch. Question is, will he chase?
Slider
Seungtaek put down the sign, set up dead center, then swept the dirt once. Keep it down.
Kang Taepoong hesitated at the request to throw it down the heart.
Please. Just throw it.
A nod. Then a sharp slider unspooled from Kang Taepoong's hand.
A long hiss. A swing through empty air. Leather popped.
Swing and a miss! Strikeout!
Side retired!
"Got him. That fan's putting out a nice breeze."
"The hell you say? I'll be right back!"
Lim Seonghan had gone down chasing a breaking ball in the dirt, and Seungtaek's needle had caught him just enough — but he talked big on his way back to the Buma High dugout.
At Mokdong Stadium, home of the Blue Dragon Cup, scouts from any number of clubs were in the stands. Buma High in particular was loaded with talent at multiple positions, so the professional scouts had come out in force. The ones who'd shown up for Suseok High had come to see Kang Taepoong, and they were checking the rest of the roster while they were at it.
"That kid's pretty good."
"Who, Kang Taepoong? Yeah, he's a talent. Left-handed fireballer. We'd love to take him, but the Falcons already locked him up with the first-round designation."
Scouts from some unnamed club were jotting notes on the players.
"Boss, I wasn't talking about Kang Taepoong."
"Then who?"
"The Suseok High catcher isn't bad, is he? He gave up a stolen base in the first, but other than that he's been solid all around."
"Yeah. Hard to judge the bat with Go Tae-san throwing like that. The defense itself isn't bad."
"Worth picking, don't you think?"
The scout asked his team leader carefully.
"Worth putting on the list. Shame we can't get a look at the stick because he's facing Go Tae-san."
"I'll keep following him. The Suseok High coach was my senior in high school, so getting in contact won't be a problem."
"Ah, that's right. Go ahead, then."