Starting Pitcher (1)
"You've got to be kidding me..."
After meeting the Baseball Immortal, I had learned something about providence. Did this count as part of it too? It felt as though every time my abilities reached into the world, a trial arrived to match them.
Whether that was actually true or not, Josh's absence from the number-two spot was a body blow. No matter how strong our bullpen was, it only meant something if a league-class one-two punch — and Kim Junhyeok, who could at least hold down a turn in the rotation — kept the first, second, and third starter slots from collapsing.
The only constant we could actually trust was Albert. Slide Kim Junhyeok into the number-two hole, and spots three, four, and five all turned into sieves.
August was ending and fewer than forty games remained, but the loss of a single pitcher had left us genuinely worse off than the Marines. Even before this, you couldn't really claim our roster was superior to our place in the standings — but still.
How were the manager and the coaches going to break through this?
The Seoul Dragons coaching staff, who should have been taking the day off, gathered in one room on Monday.
"What's the outlook on Josh's disciplinary case?" Park Duseong asked his coaches.
"The association isn't going to come down that hard. His blood alcohol wouldn't have been punishable in his hometown, and the club moved fast through the press to make clear the injury didn't happen while he was driving. Public opinion isn't that ugly."
"Then the association won't be able to come out swinging either. The owner has some pull over there." Park Duseong sounded at least partly satisfied.
"The club will still hand down some kind of internal discipline, though. No matter how well Josh has built his image, a corporation has an image of its own to protect."
"Tell them through our contacts to cut it down as much as they can."
"Yes, sir."
"Hah... Barely any injuries this year. I actually thought we were sailing."
Park Duseong let out a long breath. The fortune and glory that would come from leading a team that had gone thirty years without a title to a championship — even he, a man who had been through everything, couldn't shrug off the anxiety sitting in his chest right now.
"Skipper. What about promoting Lee Junseong to the rotation?"
"Lee Junseong?"
The pitching coach, who almost never volunteered an opinion to Park Duseong first, had just proposed a drastic call.
"He's practically our bullpen ace right now. We send him out as a starter and he gets lit up, we're twice as screwed."
"Lee Junseong will handle starting just fine. Even without him, the bullpen is still competitive enough. Honestly, I think we could have used him as a starter a long time ago without any problem."
"Hmm..."
Park Duseong gave the pitching coach an irritated look. It wasn't that he disagreed so much as that he could feel the barb in the man's words. For someone who prized his authority, the fact that he let it go with nothing more than a slightly uncomfortable stare was a miracle.
"Fine. Let's do it. If Albert's the only one we can count on, managing the rest of this season is going to be a nightmare."
"Skipper!"
The pitching coach, who had rated Junseong highly for some time and had privately wanted to see him take off, broke into a smile. Because Junseong had shown not only talent but exemplary conduct, he had — without quite realizing it — gathered a great deal of quiet support around him.
Park Duseong didn't particularly care about any of that. But he had a strange gut feeling that if it was Lee Junseong, he might just pull it off. That was why Junseong had become something of an exception to his meticulous, top-down way of running a club.
"Once Junseong's out of the bullpen, the late innings are going to be a headache. The good times are over."
"Giving him a regular turn will actually be better for him. Irregular pitching puts more strain on the body, after all."
Park Duseong felt the needle in the pitching coach's words again. This time he didn't let it show.
"Skipper, the roster's expanded. What about calling up Bae Junmin?"
Now it was the bench coach making a proposal.
"Didn't we agree not to bring that up until the kid drops his stubbornness?"
"The praise for Bae Junmin's hitting down in the second team hasn't stopped, sir."
"Hah... I don't care about some second-team Bonds. That swing of his doesn't fit a club that calls Jamsil home. And if his defense or his baserunning were even average, I'd have had him on the first team a long time ago."
Park Duseong preferred overall balance and players who did as they were told. He and Bae Junmin were oil and water.
"...Understood."
"Alright. The first-team roster has no holes except for the injuries. We go as we are."
The unpaid meeting ended there.
After practice wrapped and I was cooling down before the game, I checked the internet reaction.
On Tuesday the manager had proposed moving me into the starting rotation, and I had accepted without a second's hesitation. I had figured I wouldn't get a start this season. The opportunity had arrived faster than I expected.
They hadn't said it out loud, but there would be some kind of pitch count or innings limit. It didn't matter. I wouldn't need a high pitch count as a starter anyway.
Naturally, I wasn't scheduled to pitch until after tomorrow. We'd have to hang on today, Albert would throw tomorrow, and then I would take the mound for Saturday's home game.
Today, our club had to find a way to win and sweep the Suwon Magic Wings. The 2.5-game lead was still intact. We had to take this one, then go into the weekend against the third-place Incheon Dolphins and come away with at least a series win.
Friday and Saturday were the real battleground. Kim Junhyeok on Sunday wasn't trash — the problem was that he was far too soft against the Dolphins.
"Congrats on the starter debut."
"Thank you."
Park Ujin had come over to talk.
"Fastball, curve, sweeper — that's the plan for now, right?"
"That's right. The sweeper's pretty much fully developed at this point."
"Those pitches alone are more than enough for you to eat hitters alive. But your potential's limitless, so don't slack off."
"Yes. I've been looking into a changeup anyway."
"Take your time. I was talking about the future, not this year."
"Haha. It's not like a new pitch just shows up because you decide you want one. I'm not in a rush either."
"Good to hear."
Park Ujin gave me a wave and walked off.
He was right. I was confident those three pitches would play, and then some. But I was looking higher than that. Adding to my repertoire was not something I intended to neglect. Of course, I had no intention of throwing a changeup in a game until it actually belonged next to this fastball.
"Strikeout!"
Our closer, Go Junyong, recorded the final out. Winning was a relief — except word came in that the Marines had won twenty minutes earlier. I had been hoping against hope, but the gap in the standings hadn't moved.
The weekend series really mattered. It wasn't just a matchup with the third-place club. The Incheon Dolphins were still a bad stylistic fit for us, and the players felt it to some degree. The fans had been living with it for a long time.
Including this season, we hadn't posted a winning record against the Dolphins in five years. Six years ago was the season they finished ninth thanks to a pile of internal problems.
To hold onto first place, to put the Dolphins in their place, and to make my debut as a starter a statement — I prepared for Saturday's start with everything I had.
I had told Yu Suhyeon about my first start, and she had said immediately that she was coming to cheer this time. Song Hyeonji had gotten in touch before I could even tell her — the moment she saw the article, she called to say she was definitely coming to watch in person.
If I was going to have women in my life, this was the kind of perk that ought to come with it.
I hung up and went back to training.
"Lee Junseong. Take it easy."
"I'm fine. I haven't even pitched in a few days."
"Even so, you need to manage your condition for tomorrow's start."
"Keeping my body warmed up like this is how I stay in peak condition."
"Give me a break..."
Uncharacteristically, Kim Junsu had started actively pushing a training approach on me. Gang Daeho or Park Ujin, maybe — but Kim Junsu was someone who valued personal autonomy above all.
"Yeah, with your stamina I guess that tracks. But you know you're indispensable to this team, right? If you start falling apart too, we can kiss this season goodbye."
"Understood."
Kim Junsu walked back to his own work. He had a somewhat easygoing personality, but he was a proud man, so hearing him talk like that was a little strange. Most likely it was the anxiety of possibly losing first place, plus the fact that this series was against the Dolphins — a team we had a losing record against.
I didn't dislike my seniors. If anything, I figured I had lucked into a good group of them. But my thinking was simple.
I would always perform at my best. As long as they did their part, we would be fine.