The Unbreakable Burden of the Catcher's Glove
The position of catcher is far more demanding than most people imagine.
In English, the catcher is the one who catches the ball. The word “catcher” comes directly from that role. At first glance, receiving a pitch seems so simple that anyone could do it. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. The single greatest difference between a fan and a professional pitcher is velocity. Between a fan and a professional catcher, it is the ability to secure a pitch traveling at that velocity with perfect timing.
For an ordinary person, anything above 120 kilometers per hour becomes nearly impossible to catch. Professional players, however, must snare pitches that begin at 120, spin through 130 and 140 kilometers per hour, and still leave the batters feeling helpless. Acquiring a stable position is only the first step. The next is to seize the advantage against the hitter by calling pitches that create the most favorable count. That subtle art is pitch framing.
Framing’s core is a deceptive hand movement that fools the umpire. A borderline pitch outside the strike zone is pulled ever so slightly toward the plate, turning a ball into a strike. When framing drops to a mediocre level, the opposite disaster occurs: a pitch that should have been called a strike is instead waved over as a ball. Because framing is the part of the game most visible to cameras, a spectacular failure in a crucial moment can earn an entire stadium of boos from the fans.
Therefore, even a professional catcher must, at minimum, stop the ball where it lands. If he cannot frame it, he at least must hold it.
Choi Seungtaek could catch everything from the mid-150-kilometer fastball to the 130- and 140-kilometer breaking balls. The reason he could handle those difficult pitches was none other than Kang Taepoong. In high school, Taepoong’s velocity was so extreme that it forced Seungtaek to improve his positioning just to survive. After four years of professional training, Seungtaek’s frame had become rock-solid. Stopping the ball exactly where it arrived was already impressive. To become a truly great catcher, he needed the ability to turn borderline pitches into strikes.
“I can’t believe my eyes.”
Choi Seungtaek had been watching Major League videos of Benjamin for several hours straight. The former St. Louis Cardinals catcher’s movements were both natural and eerily graceful. The batter who struck out would stare at the umpire with disbelief, but the man behind the plate gave no reaction. The batter simply shook his head and trudged back to the dugout.
“Yeah, that’s exactly how it’s done. Tch.”
Another benefit of framing is that it can rattle the batter. Elite hitters possess their own rock-solid strike zone. Framing is the only tool that can shake that certainty. Seungtaek felt a twinge of regret.
When he had studied in the United States, he had focused almost exclusively on advanced analytics. He had never watched catchers. He had deliberately avoided everything related to the position so he could leave his pro career behind completely. Now that he had returned, he was paying for that decision in sweat.
Thankfully, when he had been in America, Scott Boras had brought along a catcher coach from St. Louis. Seungtaek had only caught a few minutes of those sessions, but that was all he needed.
“Hmm… I’ve watched the videos enough. I think it’s time I just do it myself.”
Seungtaek glanced at his watch. It was already 11:40 in the evening. Late, but not too late.
“Still have to get over there. Right now. Before I lose the rhythm.”
Suddenly the moment felt urgent. An unbearable craving for training flooded through him. Even though it was late, he turned the car toward Daejeon Baseball Stadium once again.
***
At a very late hour, when every player had gone home or to their dorms, a single car slipped into the training complex.
“Huh? Who’s there?”
“It’s Choi Seungtaek.”
“What? At this hour, what business could you have?”
The security guard was stunned. Seungtaek had appeared after everyone else had left.
“I need to train for a bit.”
“This late? Oh my…”
The guard assumed Han Geunseong must have ordered extra training and looked genuinely sorry for the young player.
“I don’t recall the manager ever calling for practice at this hour.”
“Ah… it’s just me. I don’t have much time, so I’m doing it in short bursts.”
“You want to drive all the way to the stadium?”
“No, I’ll just use the indoor facility.”
“Understood.”
After checking his identification, the guard let him through. Seungtaek carried all his equipment into the empty indoor training room.
Click. Click.
Once the lights in the darkened indoor room came on, Seungtaek found the pitching machine and positioned it directly in front of where he would stand.
“Perfect. A machine alone should be enough.”
He set his phone on the machine, pressed record, and prepared the ball. Once the machine started, he stepped into position.
Good. Start slow so I can feel the rhythm. Just like in the videos.
Whooosh!
A 110-kilometer pitch streaked toward him.
Thud!
For anyone else this speed would have been yawn-inducing, but for Seungtaek it was already challenging. The correct way to catch is to read the trajectory and reach out along it. Framing, however, works in the opposite direction. You reach from the far side of the pitch and gently pull it toward you.
Whooosh!
Thud!
“Ouch!”
Because he was still unfamiliar with the motion, his thumb took the brunt of the impact.
“Crap… if I keep messing up I’ll break a finger.”
Seungtaek clenched his throbbing fingers but kept going, trusting his injury-free body.
Whooosh!
The next pitch came from the right.
Normally he would have stepped right to follow it and stopped. Tonight he did the reverse—reaching farther right first, then sliding his left side forward and catching.
Thud!
“Ah!”
Again he missed. The ball bounced harmlessly toward the floor.
“Tough. Timing is the real challenge.”
Whooosh!
Thud!
“Oops!”
Whooosh!
Thud!
“Got it!”
After repeated attempts, he finally caught a pitch cleanly.
“Hmph… if only the strike zone were visible.”
The System is assisting you.
“Yes! This is it.”
As soon as he focused, a virtual strike zone materialized in front of him.
Whooosh!
Thud!
“Damn!”
Once he tried to see the zone, he dropped the pitch again.
“Hmm… why won’t it appear? Oh well, I guess that’s all the practice I need.”
The pitching machine clicked to a stop once the balls were exhausted. Seungtaek walked over, checked the phone recording, and immediately saw the problem.
In the video he looked ridiculous. “Ugh… I’m awful. If I can’t even catch properly, framing will be a disaster.”
Framing was harder than he had expected. His mind understood the technique, but his body still obeyed its old habits.
“That’s why bad habits are terrifying. I’ll have to start over. I only have a few hours left—better use every minute on framing.”
He checked the clock. It was already past 2:00 a.m.
“Oh well… might as well keep going until I’m finished, then crash here.”
Seungtaek reloaded the machine with fresh balls.
***
Three days later.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015—Children’s Day. In the professional leagues, Children’s Day was treated with special care. It was not only a celebration for the children but also an investment in the future, because the fans who came to the stadium that day would grow up, become adults, and keep supporting the team for the rest of their lives.
“Waaaaaaaah!”
“Kya-kya-kya.”
From the very first moment the Daejeon Baseball Stadium buzzed with noise. In front of Seungtaek, children in bright orange uniforms decorated with magpies stood out like colorful fireworks.
“Whoa… so many people.”
“Seungtaek-ya, on days like this your wrist must really hurt.”
Woo Jeong-geun glanced at him and spoke.
“Can you see the line outside?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the line of fans waiting for autographs.”
Seungtaek peeked through the railing.
“Oh… there are really a lot of people.”
At the moment, three players were on duty: the veteran ace Kwon Gyu-jin who had finished his MacPhee duties, national-team second baseman Woo Jeong-geun, and the highly anticipated rookie Choi Seungtaek.
“Who’s the biggest crowd right now?”
Woo Jeong-geun asked the event staff.
“The Seungtaek line is the longest by far.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Seungtaek is trending harder than anything.”
“Haha…”
Woo Jeong-geun’s face turned genuinely surprised. He immediately struck back with a mischievous grin.
“Whoa, Seungtaek-ya, you beat the seniors and took first place in popularity. That’s awesome.”
“No way…”
“We gave six years of our lives here, and all you need is good looks? That’s unfair.”
Woo Jeong-geun and Kwon Gyu-jin attacked Seungtaek with their twin punches. The rookie’s face twisted in embarrassment.
“Haha…”
While the two veterans teased him, the event staff called for attention.
“All right, let’s begin the autograph session!”
“Ready?”
“Yes!”
The signal was given, and the fans began filing into the autograph room one by one.
An orange-uniformed boy held out his jersey to Seungtaek.
“Huh! Do you want an autograph here?”
“Yes! Please sign here, sir!”
Kyahk! Sir?
Seungtaek felt a small sting of awkwardness because the boy had skipped the usual “oppa” and called him “sir.” But six years had passed since then; he was no longer easily wounded.
“Sure. I’ll sign it, sir.”
He checked the back of the jersey. The name “Choi Seungtaek” and the number 3 were printed in white.
“Oh! You wrote your name too?”
“Yes! Sir! Sir! It’s so fun! You’re my fan!”
“Fun? Me?”
Before Seungtaek could blink, the child delivered a direct punch to his chest.
“Yes! When I saw you hit a home run I was so happy, but then I was disappointed and it was hilarious!”
Ah…
Seungtaek’s biggest source of popularity was none other than that infamous 0-point home run from high school.
“Heh.”
“Kihihihi.”
Laughter from the seats beside him came from Woo Jeong-geun and Kwon Gyu-jin. Once the seniors started giggling, the children joined in, their own laughter rising like bells.
Sometimes children show the most cruel sides of human nature.
My brain is getting fuzzy. Just a second. Could it be… all those kids are thinking the same thing?
Through his view he saw dozens of children standing in line behind him. They saw him and burst into giggles.