This Is a Trap

This week's midweek series was a three-game set against the Busan Seagulls.

Because it was a road trip, Choi Seungtaek ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boarded the team bus and headed for Busan. The ride from Daejeon ate up a considerable stretch of time and could easily have left him drained, but after a good stretch with his girlfriend, his condition was at its peak.

On the highway rolling toward Busan, a strange feeling settled over him — as if he were going home.

It's been a long time. I haven't been back since I returned...

He'd made this trip countless times as a member of the Busan Seagulls, but wearing a uniform of a different color made the whole thing feel off.

When they arrived in Busan, Sajik Baseball Stadium came into view. Familiar, and yet not.

Choi Seungtaek stepped off the bus, grabbed his bags, and walked into Sajik as naturally as breathing.

"Hey, Choi Seungtaek! Hey, you idiot! Where do you think you're going?"

"Me? I'm heading to the locker room."

He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but Hwang Ganggyeong sighed and caught him by the arm.

"That's the home side. First time here, just follow me. Don't go wandering off somewhere stupid."

"Ah!"

Choi Seungtaek, who had been walking straight toward the Busan Seagulls' locker room, turned and made his way to the visitors' side with a faintly forlorn step.

"Alright, stow your gear and get out there."

"Yes, sir!"

At the coaches' words, the players hurried onto the field and started loosening up. Choi Seungtaek followed them out to warm up.

Coming out of the visitors' dugout made the scenery feel slightly unfamiliar, but the moment he saw the green seats in the stands and the blue chairs in the outfield, he finally felt it — he was back at Sajik.

Whew... Right now, I'm a Magpies player.

Was this how it felt for a player who'd been traded, or who'd signed elsewhere as a free agent? Choi Seungtaek forced down the turmoil in his chest, went through a light warm-up, and started working through the scheduled training.

Today's pregame work consisted of nothing more than special batting practice and defensive drills. Beyond that, he was given time to sync up with the pitchers newly called up from the second team, as well as today's starter.

Choi Seungtaek checked his own status.

The finer attributes had been recalibrated. New categories had appeared, and a few abilities had dipped. What left him feeling hollow, though, was that his Blocking and Framing numbers — the ones he'd poured so much sweat into — hadn't budged at all.

Damn it. Forget the missions — shouldn't my Framing at least have gone up after all that work? I busted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my ass on Blocking too...

The numbers stayed exactly where they were.

Tsk. So I have to prove it in actual games before they change? Or have I still not reached the numbers this System wants?

Choi Seungtaek grumbled inwardly as he headed over to where the pitchers were working.

"Okay, nice! Looking good today."

The pitching coach's satisfied voice rang out. In his line of sight was Jeong Suham, newly called up from the second team.

"Seungtaek, I heard you were the one who recommended him. That true?"

"Yes, that's right. It's good to have a submarine pitcher around, isn't it?"

"Well, you do like getting ground balls out of your pitchers, so I can see why you'd want him. That said... the kid shakes like a leaf once he gets on the mound. You need to know that. Nice! Keep it going!"

The pitching coach already seemed well-informed about Jeong Suham, speaking to Choi Seungtaek in a voice of genuine concern. But every time Jeong Suham threw a pitch, the coach immediately followed up with a word of encouragement.

Wow. Not just anyone can be a pitching coach. Switching gears like that without missing a beat?

Choi Seungtaek marveled at the man's people skills as he waited for today's starter.

"Chang-soo, get ready."

Choi Seungtaek looked at Song Chang-soo.

Whew... This isn't going to be easy.

The Magpies' pitching staff was currently on a death march.

Damon, the foreign pitcher who was supposed to eat innings, had been out for an extended stretch, and the five-man rotation had collapsed with him. On top of that, other starters had been pulled from the rotation for lack of stuff, leaving only three pitchers who could actually start. In practice, it was a three-man rotation padded with two fake starters.

They'd tried plugging those two spots with the bullpen, but when that started looking unsustainable, they eventually switched to a four-man rotation — grinding the starters ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even harder. The result was a brutal schedule that was chewing through both the rotation and the bullpen. And last week's catcher had been Jo Oosoo, whose orthodox style was completely different from Choi Seungtaek's, so pitch counts had ballooned on top of everything else.

In that case... I'll have Song Chang-soo go three innings, then have whoever's in the best shape cover the rest. They'll probably bring Jeong Suham in somewhere in the middle, right?

"Whenever you're ready."

"Alright."

Song Chang-soo set himself and threw to Choi Seungtaek.

Good, overhand. Control's decent enough.

Choi Seungtaek started mixing in a bit of framing as he caught Song Chang-soo's pitches, which were growing reasonably familiar to his eye. Having worked with Jeon Seol made framing them relatively straightforward. Even if Song Chang-soo's velocity was higher, the living movement on Jeon Seol's pitches when he was on was far superior, so the difficulty wasn't particularly high.

After a few throws he had the hang of it, and the pitching coach noticed what he was doing.

"Oh... what's this. Choi Seungtaek. You suddenly started framing? Looks like you've been training properly."

"Ah! You can see it from back there?"

"Yeah, you punk. Chang-soo's pitches look like they're coming in decent, but you're messing around and making it hard to tell."

The words made Choi Seungtaek feel good and, at the same time, catch himself.

"Ah, sorry about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that."

"But it still looks a little flat. Feels like you need more practice."

"Yes. I'll keep working at it. If I do this well, I can rattle opposing hitters, right?"

"Yeah, I'm counting on you too. The kids are struggling. How does Chang-soo's stuff look to you today?"

"His stuff is a bit iffy, but he can start. Feels like a fifth starter, maybe?"

It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but the pitching coach nodded.

"That's good enough. How many innings do you think he can cover?"

"He can probably get through three well enough. After that, I couldn't tell you."

Choi Seungtaek had no way of knowing how quickly Song Chang-soo would fade, so he played it conservative, and the pitching coach agreed.

Training wrapped up, and after what felt like barely a moment of rest, it was game time.

They got through the first inning without much trouble, and in the second, Choi Seungtaek — batting sixth — stepped into the box with two outs.

The moment he entered the batter's box, the Busan Seagulls' catcher spoke up.

"Choi Seungtaek. I hear you talk a lot."

Choi Seungtaek looked at him.

Kang Pung-gi.

Born in Jeju, though most baseball fans thought of him as a Busan native — the franchise star of the Busan Seagulls. The catcher whom Park Wangyu, upon retiring, had named the greatest to follow in his footsteps. The catcher who, during Choi Seungtaek's time with the Seagulls, had been an insurmountable wall occupying the starting job.

Hmm... Should I take it as an honor that he's the one starting this?

Kang Pung-gi had built his reputation as an offensive catcher who lived by his bat rather than his glove. Especially during the period when Choi Seungtaek had been a rookie — which was now — he had successfully overhauled his swing and was putting together a highly successful season as a hitter.

"Talk a lot? I haven't really done anything."

"Haven't done anything, my ass... You shouldn't fight like that. People get hurt."

"If you don't come at me first, there's no problem."

Choi Seungtaek answered with complete composure, and Kang Pung-gi shot him a brief glance. Normally, when a catcher with more years in the league came at you with a little intimidation, you'd flinch. Choi Seungtaek hadn't flinched, and that surprised him.

"Hmm! So if someone messes with you today, you're gonna come out swinging again?"

It was the kind of needling catchers did all the time, but Choi Seungtaek felt a laugh welling up inside.

What's this? He's setting up exactly what I want to do?

"Of course. Looking at the Seagulls, none of you look like you could throw a punch anyway."

"Ha!"

Choi Seungtaek started needling him right back, and Kang Pung-gi let out a small laugh.

Trash talk.

Conversations like this were a dime a dozen in professional sports and usually meant nothing — but words that got under the other guy's skin? Those meant quite a bit. Baseball had its own famous example: a catcher who'd rattled a hitter by bringing up his wife.

In a war of words, momentum is everything. If this were some catcher from Busan or Gyeongsang-do, his eyes would've already rolled back in his head. Should I needle him a little more?

Choi Seungtaek had every intention of using everything at his disposal going forward, so he didn't shy away from this.

I might even be able to pull it off today.

He smiled inwardly and set his plan in motion.

Times like this, you have to raise the stakes. But first, you lay the trap. Make sure the other guy takes the blame.

Kang Pung-gi gave a sign to the pitcher. Choi Seungtaek locked his eyes on the man who'd received it. For a split second, the opposing starter's eyes wavered.

Got it. This is coming inside. They're trying to teach a clueless rookie a lesson.

He figured they'd called for either a hit-by-pitch or a purpose pitch inside. But he needed to set the trap, so he crowded the plate even closer.

A sharp hiss cut through the air.

Perfect.

Just as expected, the ball came screaming inside. Choi Seungtaek pretended to dodge and took it off his arm guard.

"Agh!"

"Whoa. Sorry! Guess the pitch got away from him!"

Kang Pung-gi asked if he was okay, and Choi Seungtaek, having taken the pitch, put on a slight show of being in pain.

Got away from him, my ass. See you next at-bat.

The trap was set. Next at-bat, he'd make the prey step in it — then collect.