The First All-Star Game (2)
The day of the All-Star Game had arrived.
The crowd looked about the same size as yesterday, but reporters were swarming from every direction, thrusting microphones at anyone who stood still. On top of that, every club's official media crew had shown up too — running interviews, staging goofy poses. It was complete chaos. At least we were inside a dome. If they'd held this thing at Daegu Stadium, my patience wouldn't have lasted an inning.
The tedious pregame ceremony was finally winding down, and the stadium announcer kicked the real program into gear. Broadcast cameras started appearing as well.
"Nervous? Man, you're sweating like crazy."
Kim Junsu, our team's resident mood-maker, had wandered over.
"It's not so much nerves as... I'm just worn out from doing a bunch of stuff I never normally do."
"Everyone's like that at first. Plus these days, with YouTube and all that crap, there's a lot more exhausting stuff to deal with."
"Yeah... but what can you do?"
"That's right. We're pros."
"Haha. I'll give it everything I've got."
"Yesterday's hitting was something else. Now everybody knows what you can do with a bat."
"Looks that way."
"Was that on purpose? When I heard you were entering a pitcher's Home Run Derby with no prize money on the line, I wondered what the hell you were thinking."
"Who knows..."
Had Kim Junsu figured me out? If I'd just asked to stand in the batter's box without laying any groundwork first, the manager would have ignored me outright. This was a man who still wouldn't call up Bae Junmin — a hitting prospect Gang Daeho himself had vouched for — to the first team.
"Anyway, if it helps the team, I'm all for it. Go get 'em."
"Thank you."
Kim Junsu headed back to his seat.
The All-Stars from our club were Albert as a starting pitcher, me out of the bullpen, and among the position players, Kim Junsu, Gang Daeho, Park Ujin, and Ramirez. A few of them had made it last year on the manager's recommendation, but this season the Dragons fans had actually organized, and they'd been voted in for the first time in a while.
The Magic Team was built from the Seoul Dragons, Seoul Unicorns, Daejeon Golden Eagles, Gwangju Lions, and Changwon Gators. The Dream Team was the Busan Marines, Incheon Dolphins, Seoul Buffaloes, Daegu Tigers, and Suwon Magic Wings.
The Magic Team had been selected reasonably evenly. The Dream Team, as always, was a Busan Marines convention.
The voting power of the Busan Marines... you could gauge their firepower from the simple fact that every president elected in the twenty-first century had claimed to be a Marines fan. In the last election, a Seoul-born candidate even made the absurd claim that one of his ancestors had briefly lived in Busan, so he had a connection to the Marines too — and people laughed him off the stage.
At some point, the complaints about the Marines hogging All-Star spots had been buried under the sheer weight of the dynasty they'd rebuilt over the past few years.
Maybe the fans from other clubs who'd voted for us Seoul Dragons players had a little rebellion against that Busan Marines baseball empire mixed in. We weren't exactly comfortable, but we were leading the Marines by three and a half games.
Of course, the real problem was that our first-half pace was the best in franchise history — which meant the Marines' pace was pretty terrifying too.
How was the manager going to use me in the second half?
I was supposed to be enjoying an All-Star Game, but my eyes were already on the back half of the season.
Today was just fan service.
The play-by-play man didn't quite take the bait on his partner's slightly premature take. Whatever he actually thought of Lee Junseong, he wasn't about to get roasted for putting a ceiling on a young player's potential. That was twenty years in the booth talking.
It was an All-Star Game, but half the team playing defense behind me right now belonged to us. And even if this was fan service, I had no intention of slinging it up there like an amateur. I was a professional.
Park Ujin flashed a sign, and the batter stepped into the box. The order ran Gang Hyeok batting third, Na Taeho fourth, Karim fifth. Na Taeho and Karim, the Marines' cleanup duo, were no surprise — but Gang Hyeok of the Incheon Dolphins, who was putting up another monster season, had earned his All-Star spot standing tall among all those Marines.
For our Magic Team, the first pitcher — Yun Minsu of the Gwangju Lions — and the second, Albert, had combined for three scoreless innings. We hadn't scored either... but giving up a run here would be a little embarrassing.
I settled into my set position, holding my composure through the wall of sound.
The fastball exploded into the glove — and missed by a mile.
"Ball!"
The crowd roared even louder. I glanced at the scoreboard — 154 km/h. I'd gotten careless with my command and leaked it well off the plate, but... that was the kind of fan service a flamethrower could offer.
Leather popped again.
"Strike!"
The unflappable Gang Hyeok took an inside fastball. The score was 0–0, and every hitter out here wanted to mash a homer and walk away All-Star MVP. Gang Hyeok included — they'd all be swinging a little harder than usual, wouldn't they?
But maybe it was the All-Star atmosphere... I was getting fired up too.
Park Ujin had been told to let me call my own game today. And in my mind, today's signs weren't going to change.
The high fastball jumped out of my hand.
"Strike!"
Gang Hyeok swung through it.
He was a guy I'd be facing a lot going forward. Depending on the situation, he was a hitter who could put real pressure on me. Fan service aside, I needed to put him in his place at least once — for the rest of the season.
I buried a fastball low and away. Gang Hyeok flinched and took it.
"Strike three!"
He walked out of the box with a little smile. Park Ujin flashed a thumbs-up. I nodded back.
The atmosphere inside Gocheok Dome cranked up another notch. They were going to need three times the usual air conditioning.
Na Taeho stepped in. The cheer was even bigger than it had been for Gang Hyeok. He was the most popular hitter on the Marines, and this was the matchup the fans had come to see.
Time to give them what they wanted.
The fastball caught the heart of the plate. A brief hush — then the crowd exploded as the ball hooked foul.
"Foul!"
The board read 155 km/h. Of course, you wouldn't see that in a real game anytime soon. No matter how much I trusted my velocity and stuff, I wasn't about to throw one down the middle to a hitter of Na Taeho's caliber in a regular-season game.
I went back up the ladder.
"Strike!"
Na Taeho swung through the high fastball.
I called time. What was he thinking right now? Had he already decided I was only throwing heat? Or was he keeping a curveball in the back of his mind?
I'd just thrown a little wrinkle in there to scramble his head. The fans wouldn't notice, so no harm done.
Another high fastball. Another empty swing.
"Strike three!"
The roar was a notch quieter than after Gang Hyeok's strikeout — a few disappointed Marines fans mixed in, apparently.
Karim of the Marines stepped into the box.
Three fastballs. Three explosions of leather.
"Strike three!"
"Yeah!!!!"
I put a little extra mustard on the celebration.
"Nice pitching!"
"You crazy bastard, you threw ten straight fastballs?"
"You gonna do that next time we face you too?"
"Even if you know it's coming, you still can't hit it."
Magic Team guys — ours and the other clubs — each tossed a line my way.
Unlike my usual routine, I tipped my cap toward the stands on my way off the mound, and the roar swelled even louder.
Somewhere along the way, I was getting better at this showmanship thing too.
One last pop of leather, one last punch-out, and the game was over. Every player started filing out of the dugouts.
Final score: Dream Team 1, Magic Team 2.
MVP went to our own Park Ujin, who'd smashed the game-winning two-run homer, and I took home the Outstanding Pitcher Award — a bonus bigger than my monthly salary. That would change later, but at this stage of my career, every little bit counted.
After Park Ujin and Park Duseong — our manager, doubling as skipper of the Magic Team — finished their interviews, it was my turn.
"Lee Junseong, you've won the Outstanding Pitcher Award for striking out three of the league's best hitters in a row — on nothing but fastballs. Congratulations."
"Thank you."
I wrapped up the interview with a stiff but textbook answer.
Once the All-Star Game was over, I headed home.
I checked my phone. A new message from Song Hyeonji.
I was deliberately spacing out my calls and visits with Yu Suhyeon to keep a little tension in the air. Song Hyeonji, on the other hand, needed more of my attention.
As for Kim Seoa... well. If I told her to come over tonight, she'd be in a cab before I hung up.
I was looking forward to this All-Star break.