Ahead of the Season (4)
Today was the start of the final exhibition series.
Not long after I'd come back to Seoul for the first time in a while to play at Gocheok Dome, I was now walking into Jamsil Baseball Stadium for the last stretch of spring games. Once this two-game set wrapping up tomorrow was over, opening day would finally arrive this weekend.
Every one of my fellow draftees had recently been told to report to Icheon first. I was the only rookie on our club who would spend his first season in the majors. And since the opening series was a home stand at Jamsil, I really hoped I'd get to make my debut.
The team we'd be facing today and tomorrow was the Incheon Dolphins — the same club that had quite literally demolished us in last year's playoffs.
Baseball fans liked to joke about last year's top three — the Busan Marines, the Incheon Dolphins, and the Seoul Dragons — like this: the Marines were a team that crushed you with raw, overwhelming talent. The Dolphins were a gritty, tightly knit squad that punched above their weight. And the Dragons? A team of loose sand that underperformed relative to their talent.
I couldn't argue with the Marines or Dragons assessments. The take on the Dolphins, though, was the kind of thing you only said if you didn't really know baseball.
Their defense — especially the center line of shortstop, second base, and center field — was the best in the league. And while their hitters weren't exactly intimidating, almost none of them went down easy, and the middle of their order could mash when it counted. On top of that, their pitching staff as a whole was stronger than ours. The more you understood the game, the more you had to rate them highly.
Either way, it was obvious they'd be one of our biggest obstacles this season, right alongside the Marines. The fans had shown up in pretty solid numbers for an exhibition game, coming out to watch what was... well, calling it a revenge match felt a little pathetic.
Where you finished in the exhibition standings didn't mean a thing. But this last series before opening day was different — both clubs would be sending out their number-one and number-two starters. And beating a team we had a score to settle with would be a nice boost to morale.
Our starter was Albert. He was in his fourth year with the Dragons, a foreign pitcher who commanded absolute loyalty from the fans. He hadn't won a single individual title in that span, but if you averaged out his win contribution over four years — among both domestic and imported arms — he'd crack the top five without breaking a sweat.
If anything, a guy like last year's Dolphins ace Chris, who had completely demolished the league, would just take off for the States or Japan. From the organization's perspective, Albert's situation might actually have been preferable.
"Play ball!"
The game began amid cheers from the Dragons faithful that hardly felt like an exhibition.
"Out!"
The top of the sixth was over. The score sat at Incheon Dolphins 1, Seoul Dragons 3.
Albert had lived up to his name. Six innings, one run, on just eighty-two pitches. On a day this guy took the mound, the manager could probably breathe a little easier — though the pressure of knowing you had to win those games was its own kind of weight.
Our lineup had done its part too, scratching three runs off the Dolphins' starter, Paul.
"Lee Junseong! Get ready in the bullpen."
"What?"
It had been a while since I'd gotten the call. They'd floated the possibility of using me last weekend and then nothing had come of it, but I was finally going to throw.
A two-run lead, top of the seventh... considering opening day was this weekend, did that mean my role had more or less been decided?
People liked to break it down the way they did in the majors — closer in the ninth, setup man in the eighth, and the seventh-inning guy rounding out the high-leverage corps. That only worked when you had a roster deep enough to support it. In our league, bullpen usage was more honestly split into three buckets: the closer, a guy you could sort of trust, and whoever you sent out once you'd already given up on the inning. And the reality was that more than a few clubs didn't even have a proper closer. Assuming I was in the mix, our bullpen was actually pretty solid.
Starting in the pen wasn't exactly what I wanted. But if I came in as part of the lockdown group — slamming the door on a lead or setting the table for a comeback — I might actually draw more attention that way. Fans loved drama.
Either way, all I had to do was give everything I had on the mound. Until my standing was more secure, I'd hold off on being picky about what I was served.
"Out!"
Park Ujin's massive drive died at the warning track. Sides changed. My turn.
"That ball you just hit was a real shame, hyung. Anywhere but Jamsil..."
"Tell me about it. I've wanted to get the hell off this team because of this park more times than I can count."
"When you signed as a free agent, you said playing for the Dragons was your dream. I read that in an article back in high school."
"Obviously I was full of it. I could've stayed with the Unicorns — same city, after all — but how do you turn down another two billion won on the total?"
"...Fair point."
He talked a big game, but Park Ujin was the kind of hitter who drove the ball a long way rather than just lining it into the gaps, so he still managed a decent home-run clip even at Jamsil. The problem with most people is they only remember the ones that got away.
"Anyway, no runs today. Show those damn Dolphins what your stuff looks like."
"Haha. Yes, sir. I'll be counting on you."
I climbed the mound. Park Ujin headed for home plate.
The heart of the Dolphins' order was due up — three, four, and five. The five-hole wasn't anyone to lose sleep over, but Oliver in the three-spot and Gang Hyeok batting cleanup both needed careful handling. Oliver was one of the best foreign hitters in the league, and Gang Hyeok was the best first baseman in the country, a guy who chased the home-run title every single year.
Feel him out first.
—Crack!
Oliver got a piece of a high fastball on the outer half. Coming out aggressive, just as expected. Everyone knew Oliver swung at just about everything — which was another way of saying he had the talent to get away with it.
That made my next move obvious.
"Ball!"
Oliver laid off the curveball diving out of the zone. So he could lay off that one, huh?
Fine. I still had to throw something he couldn't handle. That part hadn't changed.
Park Ujin called for a fastball inside. Against Oliver, you had to keep burying the ball on his hands.
—Crack!
The inside heater leaked just a hair up and over the middle. The sound off the bat was dull, though, a muted thud as the ball floated toward the outfield. A ball that got jammed like that, carrying at that angle...?
I turned to track it.
Huh?
It dropped in front of center fielder Gang Daeho.
Hit allowed. I'd had a chance to get the first out with nobody on, and instead I'd put a man on first with nobody out.
My first hit given up all spring — and a genuinely ugly one at that.
Park Ujin flashed me a gesture from behind the plate. Don't worry about it.
Right. Before I'd met the Baseball Immortal, this had been a daily sight. Especially on the days when shaky command stacked the bases and some cheap flare like that turned into a go-ahead knock. Those were the nights you didn't sleep.
Focus on the next hitter. This was a situation I could still pitch out of.
Gang Hyeok, one of the best hitters in the league. If anything, the matchup might actually favor me.
—Pop!
"Strike!"
A fastball painted on the outer edge. Unlike Oliver, Gang Hyeok was a patient hitter who worked counts carefully — which was exactly why this three-four combination was called a match made in heaven. The guy who swung at everything, followed by the guy who waited you out and then deposited it in the seats if you hung one.
"Ball!"
Gang Hyeok laid off my high fastball. Not an easy out, this one.
"Strike!"
This time a fastball jammed in on his hands, right on the black. The count was mine now. I took Park Ujin's sign and set.
—Pop!
"Strike three!"
I could see Gang Hyeok's face twist from all the way out here.
A curveball painted at the bottom of the zone, away. He'd been sitting on something diving out of the strike zone, no question. Park Ujin's sequence had caught him leaning the wrong way, and my location had finished the job.
—Pop!
"Strike!"
The next hitter wasn't anyone I needed to overthink. As long as I didn't hang one, I had no sense that he'd square anything up.
—Crack!
A completely lifeless ground ball, and the location couldn't have been better. Shortstop Kim Junsu stepped on second and fired to first.
"Out!"
The double play ended the inning. I'd wriggled out of the jam more easily than I'd expected.
"Nice pitching, Junseong!"
Kim Junsu came jogging in, calling out as he ran.
"Beautiful play, Junsu-hyung."
"You making fun of me? A middle schooler could've turned that. What actually blew me away was that curve you punched Gang Hyeok out with. How do you bury a hook in the zone against a guy like that?"
"Even the best hitters have a hard time with a pitch that's painted."
"Haha. Unbelievable kid."
Kim Junsu was a pretty cheerful character, a far cry from the airtight way he played the game.
"Good work out there, Junseong."
The pitching coach was waiting for me with a welcome.
"Thank you. I can still throw."
"That's enough. You won't be going tomorrow, so think of it as a full day of rest."
"...Understood."
Even so, they clearly had no intention of running a rookie pitcher out there on consecutive days — especially not in an exhibition game. I wasn't greedy enough to argue. I just hoped I'd get the ball at some point during the opening series.
"Out!"
We'd won it with a pretty clean, controlled performance. Tomorrow's game was still on the schedule, but I wouldn't be pitching, so my mind was already turning toward the regular season.
I had confidence in my ability. I was certain I was only going to get better. Just thinking about the future made my chest tighten.
"Junseong, want a ride home?"
"I'm all right, thank you."
I turned down Park Ujin's offer and headed out.
"Excuse me — Lee Junseong!"
"Yes?"
A woman came walking toward me.
"Could I get a picture?"
"Sure."
She snapped the photo, and I answered with an awkward smile.
"Thank you so much!"
"Don't mention it."
I was a little annoyed, but I kept it as polite as I could. Fan service was part of the job.
"Um, actually..."
"Yes?"
"Want my Instagram?"
"..."
I didn't even have Instagram. And even if I did, I wouldn't have been curious about hers.
"Sorry. I don't do social media."
"Oh..."
I gave her a discreet once-over. She looked about Yu Suhyeon's age, but the plastic surgery was painfully obvious. And the way she was dressed... I was cold just standing here, and this woman looked like she was headed to a club after this. Either way, she wasn't my type.
"Well, I should get going."
I said goodbye and turned away before the conversation could go any further.
Meeting a decent woman wouldn't have been so bad, as long as she didn't come off as a complete airhead. Still, I needed to be selective.