Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 223

“Man, playing a game in the summer just hits different when it’s this hot.”

“Exactly, those guys playing in dome stadiums like in Texas or Arizona don’t know what they’re missing.”

“I thought I’d catch a cold when we were in Texas; they cranked up the AC so high. They talk big, but we’re the real deal when it comes to heat.”

Returning to their home turf, the Braves players wore satisfied smiles. Truist Park in the middle of summer is truly something else, easily one of the top three hottest MLB stadiums.

Unlike the dome stadiums like Chase Field of the Arizona Diamondbacks, famous for its heat, Globe Life Field of the Texas Rangers, which they had just visited, or Marlins Park of the Miami Marlins, this was an open-air stadium with no roof.

Perhaps this was the place where Major Leaguers could truly experience the summer heat. Even if they went on the road to places like Texas or Arizona, they’d just hole up in their hotel rooms and then head into an air-conditioned dome stadium. But not here.

‘You’d think they were made of lava or something… They’re all so proud of the heat. And they’re not even Atlanta natives.’

The Braves players, wearing satisfied smiles in the face of the overwhelming heat, jokingly bantered with each other. Watching them, Lee Jungwoo let out a hollow laugh.

He was dumbfounded by the players’ mindset, taking pride in the fact that their home stadium was the hottest in the entire Major League, and yet they were sweating buckets on their foreheads as they said it.

‘It stinks to high heaven. I can’t even think about going into the dugout. Was it 38 degrees Celsius [100.4 degrees Fahrenheit]? Lucky it didn’t go over 40.’

No matter how much humans adapt to the climate, this kind of heat was honestly not something to get used to.

Especially since it was particularly hot, as if the city was welcoming the Braves back. Even for those accustomed to Hotlanta [a nickname for Atlanta], it was extreme.

The locker room was nice and cool with the AC blasting, and the clubbies [clubhouse attendants] took care of the sweat-soaked clothes, so it was bearable. But the dugout, filled with hairy, burly men sweating profusely, was a biochemical terror zone.

Even Lee Jungwoo, who usually toured the stadium as part of his routine, couldn’t even dare to enter in this heat.

“Wow…”

“Isn’t it great? This is the smell of men. Lee, you need to develop a little more masculinity.”

“Do you not use deodorant? If you do and it’s still like this, you’re not a man, you’re an animal.”

“Hey, it’s pheromones, pheromones. My charm can’t be covered up by deodorant or anything like that.”

After coming to America, living and interacting with Americans, Lee Jungwoo had experienced countless cases of body odor, not just regular sweat, but full-blown BO. But he was left speechless by the sheer overwhelming stench. Especially Peterson, who seemed to be even worse because of his large size, made a shameless comment, causing Lee Jungwoo to shake his head and subtly move away from him.

‘Still, this side is better. At least they’re managing their expressions while reeking and sweating. The other side looks like they’re on the verge of death.’

Compared to those Braves, the Mets players looked utterly listless in the Atlanta heat. New York was also a hot city in the summer, generally similar to Seoul in Korea, but…

‘If New York is Seoul, then this is Daegu [a city in South Korea known for its hot summers]. Daegu. I feel bad for the Mets. To have a day game with us on a day like this. No, wait, aren’t we the ones who have to keep playing here who are the most miserable?’

At least it wasn’t this bad.

Lee Jungwoo, who had played in Daegu during his pre-regression tour of Korean professional baseball teams, compared the two cities of New York and Atlanta to Seoul and Daegu.

Of course, there might be times when Seoul and New York were hotter than Daegu or Atlanta, but on a day when Daegu and Atlanta were really feeling it, they couldn’t be matched.

So, even if they were in the same division and met frequently, they were bound to be a little more affected by the particularly hot weather.

They could only resent the fact that a day game was scheduled on a day like this. The only thing that could reassure them was that they only had to play two games here.

“By the way, there’s been a lot of talk, right? About how they’re going to sweep us this time.”

“They’re dreaming big, dreaming big. Even when we were stuck in third place, they couldn’t sweep us that many times.”

“Tsk, just because we had one bad series, the pushovers are trying to act tough.”

The Mets’ boldness had leaked out to the Braves players as well. They were shouting about finally overcoming their Braves phobia, so anyone living in the information age would have known.

And the Braves were just dumbfounded by the Mets fandom’s reaction. They admitted that it was ridiculous to be so thoroughly defeated by a relatively weak team like the Nationals. But even so, some things were just not acceptable.

At least that was the case when the Braves played the Mets. The Braves players and fans thought that it was absolutely unacceptable and impossible for the current Braves to be swept by the Mets. Oh, and the Phillies too.

“To dare to react in such a way that hurts our pride. Let’s turn them into hell.”

“The Mets players haven’t done anything wrong, though.”

“We can lose to the Nationals, but not the Mets. Who do those vending machine punks think they are?”

“8 wins and 1 loss, right? We can make it a clean 10 wins this time.”

“Hmm, perfect. Whatever it is, it’s good to have double-digit wins. Triple digits would be the best.”

Lee Jungwoo tried to calm his confident teammates but then shook his head. He himself didn’t think they would lose, so it was ridiculous for him to act like an adult and try to calm others down.

Even the captain, Derek, was letting those players be.

‘Maybe it’s the right mindset in this situation.’

Rather than being nervous and intimidated by the recent losing streak, beating up on the Mets, who were conveniently located next door, would be much more effective for mental control.

‘The last series had a bit of bad luck overall. But today is different. Maybe it’s because we’re at home, but everyone’s in good condition despite the weather.’

They were sweating a lot, but it wasn’t to the point where it would affect their performance. Even considering that, it was much better than the Nationals series.

‘Hell, huh… They don’t know yet. Just like we’ve found our form, the Mets might also be in better condition and play better than usual. But if that’s not the case…’

Lee Jungwoo suddenly looked around the stadium. A space filled with blazing heat and tens of thousands of demons hell-bent on destroying the humans who dared to set foot in their territory when they were in a bad mood. Watching that, Lee Jungwoo nodded and thought.

‘It’s going to be hell for the Mets.’

It might have just been a casual remark, but he thought it was right to call it hell.

####

The Mets players knew very well that the fans were making unreasonable demands right now. A sweep? It was possible. Winning and losing were always part of the game. What was impossible?

But if they were asked if it would happen as smoothly as the fans wanted, they would have to tilt their heads.

They could tell at a glance. The Braves in the Nationals game weren’t really starting to fall apart, as the self-proclaimed experts and the fans who were easily swayed by them were saying. They were just temporarily out of form.

Just some bad luck, the hitters were all in a slump, and the pitchers were getting hit hard for some reason. Looking at the season as a whole, it was just a small slump that each player experiences a few times, all happening at the same time.

‘Unlike reality, the fans’ expectations are still high. It’s hard to catch up to the Phillies, let alone the Braves. And the front office is losing its way with such public opinion.’

The Mets manager knew very well that the current situation was not good for the Mets. It was very ambiguous.

Third place. They would probably get third place again, just like last year. They were always a team that could do that much, and the Marlins and Nationals were too far behind to catch up.

But third place in the division was frankly a meaningless ranking. Unless the entire East Division was doing so well that they took the top three spots in terms of win rate and advanced to the wild card, they wouldn’t receive any benefits.

They wouldn’t make it to the postseason, and their draft pick order would be vaguely pushed back. It would be much more rational to just tank like the Nationals.

‘Originally, the front office should be making such decisions decisively. Rebuilding, win-now. They need to decide clearly between the two.’

In fact, all of this wasn’t the Mets’ fault. It was all because of the Braves. It might sound like an excuse, but it was true.

Last year, even up to June, the Mets were fighting with the Phillies and maintaining their second-place win rate, aiming for the postseason, and that had been the atmosphere for the past few years.

‘It all went wrong starting last year. Everything.’

But suddenly, the Braves soared, turning the battle for first place into a fight for second, and blowing away the wild card competition.

Even in such a situation, the professional world required making clear decisions. But it was unfair to say that it was entirely the Mets’ fault.

It was inevitable that the fans couldn’t accept such a rapid change in circumstances.

‘Maybe that’s why the fans are even more obsessed with the Braves.’

In a difficult situation where they couldn’t do either, they had to win, and it was the manager’s job to make that happen. But the Mets manager chuckled. He was sorry to the fans, but he didn’t have that ability.

‘He’s a player who mainly induces ground balls, so increase accuracy. The opponent’s infield defense is overwhelming, so send it to the outfield as much as possible. When defending, be mindful of the opponent’s long hits and widen the distance, but the shortstop and second baseman should be careful of short singles that fall into the short outfield.’

Baseball has plans, but no tactics. That era had ended decades ago, and the word was virtually obsolete. The manager’s role in baseball had been steadily reduced since its inception. That role had been transferred to the front office under the name of season planning.

And of course, baseball is a sport where the better team wins, and the Mets manager clearly knew that the Braves were better than the Mets. Nevertheless, he had given many instructions to the players to overcome that. Most of them were the work of the scouting team, but it was his job to deliver them.

“Let’s win, Braves. They’re shaking right now. It must sting. A four-game losing streak, it’s not a big deal, but it’s been a while since they’ve had one, right? The more a team wins, the more a single loss stings. Let’s add to that.”

“We have to win.”

“We have to win today!”

Having completed his final role of mental care, he nodded at the players, who seemed to have become more fired up.

Although pessimistic thoughts were sprouting up, he still believed in victory and spread it to the players as a super-spreader. He forced himself to believe in victory.

After all the preparations were done, the manager looked at the field. He hoped that such belief would come true. But soon, his eyes under his sunglasses trembled.

‘Today… is going to be a tough day.’

In the field reflected in his sunglasses, an Asian man who had hit a fast ball was running hard around the bases. The number 1 was on the scoreboard at the end of the field.

####

‘They’re fine. Both sides. It’s only 1 point so far, but everyone looks good. The same goes for the defense.’

Lee Jungwoo, who was responsible for the first run, was satisfied with the decent game. He was confident, but it was a dangerous time. They seemed fine for now, but their stamina would start to decline soon. If they were swept in this series, as the Mets fans wanted, and even had a losing streak, things could really go wrong.

‘Of course, even if we lose about 20 games in a row, we’ll still make the postseason easily, but it’s still unpleasant to have our good momentum broken.’

So he was a little worried, but fortunately, the Mets were the Mets he knew, and the Braves were the Braves he knew, judging from their play so far.

‘Now that I’m less worried, I just need to do what I always do.’

The current Braves don’t need any grand ambitions or tactics. For a team with a solid winning mentality, anything other than ‘our play’ is just a supporting element.

So, just beating up on the Mets as usual. That was the only remaining task. At least that was the case so far.

“Waaaaaaah!”

“Let’s go, home run!”

“Lee, it’s been seven games since we’ve seen your home run at home, so show us today!”

The home fans, who had seen him hit three home runs in the first game of the second half against the Cardinals, were shamelessly shouting for more home runs, just like their beloved superstar.

It was as if they didn’t care about the other team at all. The Mets players were on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the home run chants that were erupting everywhere. Perhaps as a result, the catcher glared at Lee Jungwoo as he stepped into the batter’s box and complained.

“You must be happy to be loved so much. Are these people all senile? They’ve seen you hit thirty-four home runs this season alone, and they’re still shouting for more.”

“Win if you’re so upset.”

Lee Jungwoo, who shut the catcher’s mouth with a perfectly illogical but certain statement, whether it was trash talk or just grumbling, looked at the pitcher.

‘He hasn’t caught on yet. Well, the lengths are almost the same, so it’s hard to figure out at a glance.’

Last time, when he used a drastically shorter bat, the difference was obvious, so they immediately recognized it and attacked the outside. But now, the difference was subtle, so it was difficult to recognize right away. Lee Jungwoo, unintentionally hiding a clever move, calmly drew the desired course in his head.

‘I’m not even hoping for a good course in the middle or inside. Realistically, it would be fine as long as it doesn’t deviate too much to the outside.’

Thinking that it would be good if it wasn’t too far away and just came into the end of the bat, Lee Jungwoo slowly chose the ball. As he eliminated the balls he didn’t like, the number of pitches gradually increased.

The pitcher, who had given up the first run to him, seemed annoyed by the battle that was likely to drag on and bit his lower lip slightly. Lee Jungwoo, who swung his bat around, made eye contact with the pitcher and sent him a slight smile.

[Two and two, the count is still slightly better for the pitcher. The pitcher has thrown six pitches, including two fouls. He looks good today, doesn’t he?]

[He’s a pitcher who’s been holding his own, giving up the first run. The spin rate of his balls is being measured a little higher than in the previous games, isn’t it?]

[Yes, but his velocity is about 1-2 miles per hour lower than usual. He’s seeing the effects through his good quality.]

With two balls, the pitcher could still afford to throw one more ball. It was a count that could be used to catch the batter by exploiting that psychology. Lee Jungwoo took a deep breath and looked at the pitcher. The pitcher, who had been discussing with the catcher for quite some time, glanced at first baseman Derek and took his stance.

Derek had a definite ability to steal bases, even if he wasn’t very good at it, so he could have thrown it in a set position. But the pitcher, who wound up greatly, threw the ball in his hand.

‘I was just thinking that it would be good if it was on the outside… He’s throwing this?’

He had only allowed hits to Derek and Lee Jungwoo, but he had blocked the subsequent batters well, so he must have become confident in his ball and quality. The pitcher made his choice.

A high fastball on the inside.

A course that was like a drug to the hitter, and therefore dangerous to both sides. It seemed like he was trying to induce a fly ball or a swing and a miss because Lee Jungwoo had shown a big swing, aiming for a long hit.

‘No way.’

He had misjudged his opponent.

The feeling of a cool bat extending straight out. Feeling the thrill of the moment the ball hit, Lee Jungwoo pushed the ball without stopping.

It was definitely a heavy ball, as if the solid quality was properly left in his hand, but once it was hit, it was natural for it to fly.

‘A self-fulfilling prophecy? I’m creating hell with my own hands.’

Lee Jungwoo, who glanced at the pitcher who was digging up the mound with his head down as he walked to first base, chuckled.

Before the game, when he looked around the stadium, he had expected that Truist Park would feel like hell to the opponent, and that tens of thousands of home fans and other teammates would feel like demons. But perhaps the most vicious guy among them was Lee Jungwoo himself.

“Are you going to hit another one? Are you going to hit another one?”

“Is it so easy to hit a home run? Is it so easy? Or is baseball easy for you?”

“What kind of crazy guy hits thirty-five in July? Do it moderately, man.”

Lee Jungwoo, who had finished his baserunning and was being beaten up by his teammates as usual, looked at Peterson, who was in the on-deck circle, and said.

“Peterson, do you know what the best bat is?”

“Are you going to recommend a bat? What is it?”

“What else could it be? A bat that hits home runs well, whether it’s light or heavy.”

“Yeah, right.”

Peterson shook his head at Lee Jungwoo’s words.

Muttering that he definitely wasn’t like that when he first saw him.