Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]: Chapter 55

#54. A Man’s Game

Unlike typical employees in the same company, whose salaries are generally comparable, the disparity in value among professional athletes is immense.

The initial contract money upon turning pro can vary wildly, from ten million won to a staggering one billion won [roughly $8,000 to $800,000 USD]. That’s a hundredfold difference right from the outset.

Even after going professional, this value gap widens based on accumulated performance statistics.

They wear the same uniform, undergo similar training regimens, and play games daily. Yet, some must settle for an annual salary of 30 million won [approximately $24,000 USD], while others rake in over one billion won.

This disparity can fuel a player’s ambition if it has a motivating effect. However, it can also breed feelings of relative deprivation and resentment.

“Senior, that’s not your usual pitching style, is it?”

In that regard, Yang Gi-cheol finds himself at the very bottom of the Warriors’ payroll hierarchy.

How could a rookie, who was already being scouted by major league teams before even joining the Warriors and received a signing bonus of one billion won, possibly know about a pitching form that a minor player like himself had only briefly experimented with? Could he have even noticed someone like me?

“Hmm? How did you figure that out?”

“Just a hunch. It looked like it when you were throwing.”

Han Su-hyeok regarded him with an all-knowing expression.

Yang Gi-cheol felt his thoughts becoming increasingly muddled.

His current pitching form is an awkward, Frankenstein-esque creation, the result of forcibly trying to convert his natural, dynamic sidearm delivery into an overhand style.

But after watching him throw only a few pitches, he noticed something was off?

Well, he *did* throw a 165 km/h [approximately 102.5 mph] fastball.

He must be an incredibly gifted pitcher, as well as a hitter, if he can so easily discern the flaws in a minor pitcher’s technique.

‘Is this the difference in talent?’

Just as Yang Gi-cheol was inwardly lamenting this realization, the talented rookie leaned in and whispered something in his ear before returning to his shortstop position.

‘Did… did I hear that correctly?’

Yang Gi-cheol, questioning his hearing, glanced at Han Su-hyeok, now back at shortstop.

Then, Han Su-hyeok nodded, as if to confirm everything.

It was true. He hadn’t misheard.

‘Just throw it the way I want, in a comfortable style? And he’ll take responsibility for whatever happens next?’

Yang Gi-cheol’s mind spun.

What exactly does he mean by taking responsibility? How would he even do that?

‘Hmm.’

But Yang Gi-cheol quickly began to consider that it might not be such a bad idea.

After all, it was the Titans coach who had forced him to change his form in the first place.

The blond pitching coach he’d met in the Warriors’ minor league system hadn’t said much about his pitching style. He’d simply tilt his head occasionally and ask if anything felt uncomfortable.

However, Yang Gi-cheol didn’t feel he should revert to his old form unless the coach explicitly told him to, so he continued playing baseball as he had been.

He glanced at Manager Lee Dae-jun, sitting in the dugout in the distance.

His face was a bit tense, but he didn’t betray any particular reaction.

He shifted his gaze to Han Su-hyeok, who nodded at him once more.

‘Okay, screw it. The atmosphere is already terrible anyway.’

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for Han Su-hyeok’s incredible reflexes, the two previous batted balls would have undoubtedly been hits.

Even though there are two outs, the runner is still on second base. If he throws another bad pitch like that, they’ll score, and the game will be turned on its head.

‘Alright, fuck it.’

Yang Gi-cheol’s stubborn streak was ignited.

He still couldn’t fathom why he’d been brought in during such a tense 3-3 situation, but since he was on the mound, he had to give it his all.

So, he’ll go back. Back to the pitching form that feels most natural and comfortable to him.

If that doesn’t work, then he’ll just quit baseball and open a fried chicken stand in front of the stadium.

Yang Gi-cheol, fueled by a sense of recklessness, reverted to his old pitching form after a long hiatus.

Not a pitching form that he contorts to create vertical movement, but his original style that maximizes his naturally long arms and flexible waist.

He had been secretly practicing his old pitching form whenever the Titans pitching coach wasn’t around, so there was no awkwardness at all.

Yang Gi-cheol’s arm, now fully rotated from the side, whipped through the air, powerfully launching the ball.

The ball hurtled toward the batter in a way that was completely different from before.

“Heok!”

The Incheon’s ninth batter, standing in the batter’s box, was startled by the ball flying toward his body and instinctively leaned back.

However, the ball, which had initially seemed destined to hit him, suddenly curved sharply inward and sliced through the strike zone.

“St, strike!”

The umpire, who had hesitated for a moment at the ball’s absurd trajectory, finally called a strike.

The Incheon’s ninth batter, who had nearly fallen over while dodging, stared at the umpire with a dumbfounded expression, but it was no use.

“Wh, wh, what on earth was that, Commissioner Go Dong-sik?”

“It’s a slider! Yes, that’s right! It’s a slider!”

“How can a slider curve so dramatically? And more than that, the speed is 142 km/h [approximately 88 mph]? That’s faster than the fastball Yang Gi-cheol threw just before?”

“Yes, Yang Gi-cheol’s pitching form suddenly changed from overhand to sidearm… No, that’s honestly a bit…”

“Anyway, that’s amazing. The batter thought the ball was going to hit him and fell backward, but it went into the zone.”

“So… I wondered why they put a rookie pitcher in a 3-3 situation, but they must have had something to believe in.”

“Did Yang Gi-cheol have any first-team appearances in Busan [referring to his time with the Titans, based in Busan]?”

“No. Today is his first regular-season first-team appearance for both the Titans and the Warriors.”

“I see. Ah, as we speak, Yang Gi-cheol throws his second pitch! Heok! What is that again, Commissioner? The fastball came in at 150 km/h [approximately 93 mph]!”

“Heo… The speed is one thing, but because of that player’s pitching form, it must feel to the batter like a 150 km/h ball is flying from behind his back. You can’t hit that!”

“Amazing! Yang Gi-cheol, as if he doesn’t need any time to rest, immediately throws his third pitch! Swing! Strikeout! Yang Gi-cheol gets three outs in a crisis situation and finishes the inning!”

“He successfully blocked a bases-loaded opportunity with no outs. If this happens…”

“Commissioner, Commissioner?”

“I’m a little sorry to say this, but when Brooks was taken out after giving up a three-run double, I thought the Warriors might have a hard time today. Han Su-hyeok hit two home runs, but Lim Jun-yeong is still standing strong on the mound.”

“That’s right. Everyone who is a baseball fan knows that the Warriors’ bullpen is weak.”

“But… I think we need to think a little differently. If Yang Gi-cheol’s pitching just now wasn’t a fluke.”

“If not?”

“Only God knows where today’s game will go.”

* * *

Incheon Rangers (away) VS Seoul Warriors (home)

Score 3:3

Warriors pitcher Yang Gi-cheol

Top of the 7th – Incheon Rangers attack

1st batter Kang Woo-chan

1st pitch strike

2nd pitch strike

3rd pitch strike

Out

└lol what the fuck is this…

└What are you doing? Why can’t you hit the ball from a pitcher who throws and falls to the side?

└If you just watch it, it’s all balls, why can’t you stand it and swing?

└A three-pitch strikeout against a pitcher who is making his first appearance in the first team…

2nd batter Son Jae-hoo

1st pitch ball

2nd pitch strike

3rd pitch strike

4th pitch strike

Out

└ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

└Argh, I’m so pissed off I can’t watch baseball. Why are you just staring blankly this time?

└It’s a ball coming into the middle, why don’t you hit it?

└Look at the pitcher’s expression, he doesn’t even know what he’s throwing

└If you leave it alone, it’s a strike, and if you swing, it all goes out… crazy

└Why is the speed suddenly 140 to 150? Did he take drugs in real time while throwing the ball?

└Let’s look at that friend’s former team. Oh, it’s the Titans? Then it all makes sense

└Titans… Titans… What on earth happened in Busan…

└No, did the Titans trade that kind of pitcher for Han Jin-woo? Is the Titans some kind of charity?

└Lotte fan) No, we didn’t know Yang Gi-cheol could throw that well either

└Lotte fan) If we had known he was that kind of pitcher, we would have set fire to Sajik [Lotte Giants’ home stadium] when he was traded

└lol You guys are hopeless too, you’re complaining about a lack of pitchers and you just let that kind of pitcher go?

└Lotte fan) I told you, we didn’t know!

3rd batter Jason Porter

1st pitch hit

Ground ball out to second baseman

Change of offense and defense

└This is crazy…

* * *

“Nice pitching!”

“Good job! You little rascal!”

“Good. Just keep doing that.”

The coaches and players enthusiastically congratulated Yang Gi-cheol after he struck out the first and second batters in Incheon in the top of the 7th and then got the third batter out with a ground ball to the second baseman.

He himself has no idea what is going on.

The moment I saw him throwing from right behind the mound, I was sure.

I was sure that this player was the Yang who used to play in the Marlins uniform.

And.

“Senior. Good work.”

“Oh? Oh, yeah. Su-hyeok. Thank you. Thank you so much. Really.”

Another certainty that this team has gained a decent middle relief pitcher.

Yang Gi-cheol, having reverted to his most comfortable form, was devastating the opposing lineup with just two pitches: a fastball nearing 150 km/h and a slider exceeding 140 km/h.

I haven’t been in the batter’s box myself, but in my opinion, the perceived speed is more than 5 km/h faster than that.

To bury that kind of pitcher in the minor leagues and convert him to overhand…

What on earth is going on in Busan?

Anyway, the Warriors have gotten rid of Han Jin-woo, who only has a high salary and is useless, and instead acquired a middle relief pitcher who can play in the major leagues.

I feel like the energy of the universe is gathering around the Warriors?

* * *

Senior Yang Gi-cheol guarded the Warriors’ mound in the 8th inning, following the 6th and 7th innings.

Shoong

If he throws.

Booong

A swing and a miss.

Shoong

If the batter doesn’t hit and looks at it.

“Strike!”

A strike right down the middle.

It was enough to drive the Incheon batters crazy.

An unstable pitching form that seems to teeter on the edge of collapse while throwing the ball, and weaknesses will inevitably be revealed upon closer analysis, but for now, the Incheon batters were unable to adjust to the bizarre balls spewing forth.

While Senior Yang Gi-cheol was pitching so effectively, Lim Jun-yeong didn’t allow any more runs other than the two home runs I hit.

As the game progressed into the later innings, he subtly adjusted his pitching strategy.

He switched to pitching for outs by conserving his energy.

“That guy is pissed off. I think he’s planning to pitch a complete game today?”

Who knows what he’s really thinking, but Lim Jun-yeong perfectly shut down our lineup until the bottom of the 8th, while consistently allowing runners to reach base every inning.

And then the top of the 9th, Incheon’s attack.

He had already pitched for 3 innings, the 6th, 7th, and 8th, but Senior Yang Gi-cheol’s shoulder looked perfectly fine.

Manager Lee Dae-jun, noticing this, sent Senior Yang Gi-cheol back out for the 9th.

After all, there isn’t a single reliable pitcher in the bullpen right now. Today’s game rests on Yang Gi-cheol’s shoulders.

Senior Yang Gi-cheol, recognized as a valuable pitcher for the first time in his life, continued to hurl those amazing pitches with a delighted expression.

I can’t help but admire him.

Not just anyone can throw that kind of ball.

The opposing batters were completely baffled by the 150 km/h fastball that seemed to materialize from behind them and the 142 km/h slider, resulting in nothing but swings and misses.

In that manner, Senior Yang Gi-cheol flawlessly shut down Incheon’s final attack of the regulation innings and walked off the mound.

Seeing Senior Yang Gi-cheol’s face, beaming with joy as he iced his shoulder, made me feel good.

It’s like finding a winning lottery ticket on the street.

“Okay, now let’s make Gi-cheol a winning pitcher. Huh?”

“Yes! Seniors!”

With the score tied at 3-3, it was the Warriors’ last chance to score in the regulation innings.

The other players nodded, their eyes gleaming with determination at Senior Jo Seong-oh’s words.

If they could defeat Incheon’s ace and national team starter, Lim Jun-yeong, in a situation where an unknown pitcher had unexpectedly excelled, there could be no more satisfying victory.

The bottom of the 9th began.

Incheon’s ace, who had been wavering after giving up two home runs early on, returned to the mound for the final inning of the 9th.

His pitch count was already over 120.

“Strike! Out!”

But the moment he struck out our team’s 8th and 9th batters in quick succession, Jamsil Baseball Stadium fell silent.

A monster who was still throwing balls over 150 km/h despite exceeding his pitch limit.

I’m certain of it.

Lim Jun-yeong was the strongest pitcher I had faced since my regression.

“Ball.”

But the Warriors refused to back down.

After battling to the 7th pitch, Senior Lee Chang-mo reached first base with a walk.

He celebrated the walk as if he had just hit a walk-off home run in the World Series, roaring with excitement. The fans who filled Jamsil Baseball Stadium chanted his name like mad.

The Warriors’ bench sprang into action.

A fast runner replaced Lee Chang-mo at first as a pinch runner, and Senior Choi Min-seok stepped into the batter’s box.

Choi Min-seok, who hadn’t recorded a single hit against Lim Jun-yeong all day.
The moment he laid down a surprise bunt toward third base on the first pitch, cheers and screams erupted simultaneously throughout Jamsil Baseball Stadium.

“Leave it! Don’t catch it! Damn it, don’t catch it!”

The third baseman hesitated at Incheon catcher Son Young-jin’s desperate cry.

The eyes of over 20,000 people were glued to a baseball that weighed a mere 145g [approximately 5 ounces].

Thud

The moment the ball, which had been rolling along the third base foul line, came to a stop just inches before the base.

“Aaaagh!”

“Waaaa!”

“Choi Min-seok! Choi Min-seok!”

Some despaired, while others rejoiced.

Lim Jun-yeong’s head sank. A profound sense of fatigue washed over his face.

Two outs, runners on first and second.

The Incheon coach approached the mound, conferred briefly, and then returned to the dugout. It seemed he had decided to entrust the end of today’s game to his ace.

And finally, it was my turn to bat.

Booong

I swung the bat forcefully in the on-deck circle.

A deafening roar erupted from the stands at that simple movement.

I focused my gaze on the pitcher.

Lim Jun-yeong’s eyes were locked on the catcher’s mitt, not on me.

He was the epitome of an ace, completely focused on the task at hand.

For a fleeting moment, I dismissed the thought that Lim Jun-yeong might intentionally walk me to face the next batter.

Two eyes blazing with fiery determination.

There’s no way a man with eyes like those would avoid a challenge.

It’s a showdown.

The time for a showdown.