The Children's Day Series (1)
"What do you want to drink?"
"A strawberry smoothie!"
I ordered an americano for myself and a strawberry smoothie for Song Hyeonji. Grabbing a drink at a cafe in the morning wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but just shoving a birth control pill at her and sending her on her way would have made me look like a monster.
"We ended up staying out all night, somehow. Your parents aren't worried?"
"I told them I was working on an assignment at a friend's place. Don't worry."
"That's my good girl."
I stroked Song Hyeonji's hair.
"Oppa, can we go over there?"
"Hmm?"
She pointed with her finger.
"What's that supposed to be?"
"You can take pictures without anyone operating it."
It looked like a sticker-photo booth.
"I don't like taking pictures."
"What? You take them just fine whenever I ask you to."
"That's fan service. Player and fan. That's not what we are anymore."
"If we're… if we're that kind of relationship, we should be taking even more pictures together."
She was a more cunning girl than she looked.
"You're just going to take the photos and throw them away?"
"…"
"You're not planning to post them all over the place after taking pictures with me, are you?"
"Is that so bad?"
"Hah… Hyeonji."
I pulled her into a hug.
"If I wanted to be seen with you without a care in the world, I'd already be dying to drop hints in the comments on your YouTube channel. I'd have made an Instagram account on the spot."
"Then why don't you?"
"I can't do that yet. Not for my sake, and not for yours."
I kept my expression as grave as I could manage. It was true, to a degree. A rookie openly advertising a relationship didn't look good — and in an era when clubs marketed their young players like K-pop idols, it would have been even more inappropriate.
It's not even a real relationship to begin with.
"Are you trying to hide me?"
"Wait for me. Until I can proudly introduce you to the club, to the fans."
"Hah…"
When was I going to get used to saying this kind of embarrassing crap?
"Fine. But just so you know, I want to show you off too. I'm holding it in, okay?"
"I know."
I walked Song Hyeonji home, then headed for the ballpark.
Pop!
"Strikeout!"
I'd seen it coming, but I was in the game pretty early today. It was a bullpen day in all but name. I came in as the team's third pitcher in the sixth and punched out back-to-back hitters.
Crack!
"Out!"
"Nice pitch!"
Kim Junsu jogged over after fielding the grounder, shouting as he came.
"Did you take some kind of tonic? Two days in a row and you're still this fresh."
"When have I ever not been?"
A tonic, huh… I did get a proper round of body-nourishing last night, that's for sure.
"Your stuff looks even better than yesterday," Park Ujin said.
"Yeah. I feel like I could go the rest of the way like this."
"Haha. Save that for later."
When was I going to break into the rotation? Was this whole season going to end in the bullpen? And even next year — was there any guarantee I'd get the chance?
There was a real pleasure in doing my job as a member of this team and dragging us to wins. But I was starting to want more innings, more victories, more strikeouts. I wanted to fill out the stat sheet until it overflowed.
I headed back to the dugout with a faint edge of impatience sitting in my chest.
Our club had gotten off to its best start in years, but shaking the Marines — who'd built themselves a dynasty — was never going to be easy. It was still early, but a team like the Marines, with all that know-how for locking down first place, could be nearly impossible to overtake once they caught you. Baseball was a sport of momentum.
With Go Junyong out, my path into the starting rotation had receded even further. As I'd expected, I might not get a look until after the All-Star break.
"You nervous?"
Captain Gang Daeho had come over to talk, which was rare.
"No, sir. The Buffaloes' lineup doesn't threaten me at all."
"Isn't that true of every lineup you face?"
"Maybe so."
"No matter when I look at you, you don't act like a rookie."
The numbers I was putting up didn't look like a rookie's either. I was holding a sub-1.00 ERA and punching out more than two hitters per inning.
"It's embarrassing to admit, but we've always been weaker against the Buffaloes than our talent would suggest. Children's Day in particular never seems to go our way, for some reason."
"…I see."
Anyone who knew anything about the Dragons and the Buffaloes already knew that story.
"But ever since you showed up, the whole team feels a lot more solid."
Gang Daeho tapped me on the shoulder as he said it.
God, that's cheesy.
"I'll work even harder."
"Good. I'm counting on you."
Just score some runs for me. The fact that we put up fewer when I'm on the mound doesn't feel like a coincidence.
We walked out onto the field, bearing the steadily warming spring sun.
"Lee Junseong. Bullpen. Get loose."
"Yes, sir."
I grabbed my glove and headed for the bullpen. We were in front thanks to a strong outing from our ace, Albert, but the Buffaloes had run their ace Daniel out there too, so the lead was a single run.
We had the top of the eighth to get through, and with their high-leverage guys already in the game, expecting any more offense was a stretch.
Han Yongjun was the one on the mound. If I was the only one warming up, that meant I was closing.
Looks like I'll be working as the closer for a while. Doesn't matter to me — but making a rookie the closer? The skipper's got some serious guts. If I blow up, he'll catch hell for pushing me too hard.
As long as it had come to this, I was going to slam the door on the ninth and pick up my first save.
Crack!
The world, of course, never went the way you planned it.
Han Yongjun gave up consecutive hits and put runners on first and second with nobody out. The result was the result, but the real problem was that every pitch was catching too much of the plate.
I was the one whose role had changed. I had no idea why Han Yongjun, still out there in the eighth like always, was the one coming apart.
I kept throwing in the bullpen, and I could see the pitching coach climbing the mound. He was carrying the ball. That meant—
The call came down to the bullpen.
Closer debut: a one-run game, nobody out, runners on first and second, and two innings to cover?
…Even better.
"You know we're hitting from the nine-hole next, right? Pitch like you're giving up a run. This team's strong. Trust your teammates."
"If I give up a run, that's how it goes. I'll just do everything I can."
Wherever the order started, however strong this team was — I had no intention of leaning on anyone. As long as I was out here, I wasn't giving up a single run. I was throwing through the ninth and ending this myself.
It being Children's Day, the stands were louder than usual. Not that I minded the sound of it.
Park Ujin settled back behind the plate and put down a sign.
Nobody out, first and second. You always needed a strikeout, but you needed one especially now.
Pop!
"Strike!"
The Buffaloes' three-hole hitter, Gi Suhun, watched my fastball go by. A left-handed bat who, unusually for this league, feasted on left-handed pitching — and a guy sitting inside the top three in batting average.
But at the end of the day, a lefty was nothing more than prey.
Crack!
"Foul!"
Gi Suhun got a piece of the fastball on the outer edge and shoved it foul. If he was going to offer at two heaters like that, I could keep this simple.
Pop!
"Strikeout!"
The board lit up 153 km/h.
Had he been sitting on the sweeper, given how often I'd been throwing it to lefties lately? He never got the bat off his shoulder. My fastball away sent him walking back to the dugout.
The Buffaloes' cleanup hitter, Fernando, stepped in. A bat that didn't take a back seat to Gi Suhun at all — this season, you had to call him the better of the two. A right-handed hitter who crushed left-handed pitching. From where I stood, a genuine problem.
Park Ujin put down a sign. Start with a curve, something that dropped off the table. Making him work for it was the right idea.
I set and threw the curve.
Huh?
The feel off my fingers was a little—
Crack!
The instant I heard the contact I spun around. The crowd roared, and for a split second I froze.
A clean single, dropping in front of the center fielder.
Fuck.
Closer debut, and I was giving up a run in the eighth — never mind the ninth.
Center fielder Gang Daeho fielded it and fired home in one motion. The runner tearing around third and bearing down on the plate looked faster than usual today, and the ball felt impossibly slow.
It reached Park Ujin on the money. And then—
The runner and Park Ujin collided. I sprinted for the plate.
Park Ujin, flat on his back, thrust the catcher's mitt into the air.
"Out!"
A roar that sounded ready to blow the roof off erupted from the Dragons' stands, and I finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
"Junseong."
"…Yes, sir."
"I told you to trust the team, didn't I? I didn't mean just the offense."
"…Thank you."
Gang Daeho's throw home had been outstanding, but so had Park Ujin, holding the plate and taking the runner out.
"Inning's not over. Get back out there."
"Yes, sir."
Trusting the team, every now and then, didn't seem like such a bad idea.
Pop!
"Strikeout!"