Peaceful Bullpen Life [EN]: Chapter 66

Semi-Playoff Game 1: Hwang Hyeok-jun versus Chu Bong-gi.

The excitement from media day hadn’t faded.

Sold out stadium!

The Jamsil Baseball Stadium was packed once again for the start of the post-season. Every seat was expected to be filled.

Before the game started, and even after it began, I had nothing to do. Unable to bear the boredom, I sat in the bullpen.

Thwack!

I watched Hyeok-jun warm up, focusing intently.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Do you still remember what I told you about not imitating me?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Good. Do as you’re told.”

Feeling awkward just standing there, I couldn’t resist offering some useless advice.

Hyeok-jun’s back looked broader as he opened the bullpen door and walked out.

He seemed so young when he was a rookie, but now he was the team’s ace and a potential national team player.

I could trust him.

I could trust that he would confidently lead us into the playoffs.

Play ball!

I wasn’t the only one with that belief.

“Ah, nice, nice!”

“Good ball!”

The players on the field, supporting Hyeok-jun, and those waiting on the bench all felt the same way.

Whether it was Woo-seok caught out on a fly ball to center field, Kim Seong-hoon struck out, or Myeong-gyu fielding a grounder himself.

Crack!

“It’s gone!”

“Lee Myeong-jin! Lee Myeong-jin! Lee Myeong-jin!”

No-hit, no-run.

The ambition to start strong on the big stage was shattered immediately.

The guy who barely hits five home runs a season blasted one right now.

However, the atmosphere, which I thought would heat up with Myeong-jin’s home run, quickly cooled down. The next three batters, numbers two, three, and four, were all struck out.

Qualifying for the post-season.

The post-season is a festival for the top teams. The top teams are naturally high-level. Games between high-level teams should naturally be high-level games.

It was a game that lived up to that expectation.

Good pitching, good hitting, good fielding.

The total runs allowed by both starting pitchers through the fourth inning was just one.

They hardly allowed any hits. Even when the pitchers gave them something to hit, the fielders behind them wouldn’t allow it.

Myeong-gyu’s superb defense, turning potential hits into double plays, was enough to rattle anyone.

The fifth inning wasn’t much different. Strikeout, ground ball, fly ball. The scorecards of both starting pitchers were identical, as if copied and pasted.

Top of the 7th. Fourth batter, Oh Young-bin, as if unable to stand the stalemate any longer, got the team’s third hit.

Kim Tae-hoon followed with another hit. Right from the start, two hits loaded the bases, except for third.

Naturally, a timeout was called, and the pitching coach went to the mound to talk with Hyeok-jun.

The three of them, including Gyu-hak, talked briefly, trying to bring the momentum back to our side.

Top of the 7th, starting again with the sixth batter. The ball, which had been hovering in the low 150km/h range [approximately 93 mph], suddenly clocked 156km/h [approximately 97 mph]. Right at Kim Myeong-jun’s body.

Judging by the batter’s bewildered expression as he looked at the scoreboard, it seemed like we could get through this batter easily.

Tap!

“Two outs! Get two!”

“Straight to first!”

A ground ball rolling straight to the second baseman.

He safely caught it and tossed it to second to get one out first, then Myeong-jin stepped to the side and threw to first. In an instant, two outs were recorded.

Although a runner reached third, the fact that we got two outs was more significant.

Now that Hyeok-jun had shifted gears up a notch or two, his pitches were not something the seventh batter could do anything with.

Tap!

“No……”

…or so I thought, but that idea was wrong from the very first pitch.

The batter, who came in with a plan and swung aggressively from the start, dropped the ball in front of Jin-hyung.

After all that effort to get two outs with a double play, we pointlessly allowed a run, tying the score.

“Hey, focus!”

“It’s okay, we can score again!”

Hyeok-jun seemed a bit drained, but he acknowledged the noise coming from our dugout and started pitching again.

A three-pitch strikeout against Yoon Jae-kwan, a pitch filled with anger at allowing the tying run.

“Let’s stop with Hyeok-jun here.”

Hyeok-jun, who had returned to the bullpen, told me.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“One point……”

“We can score again.”

Thwack!

One point.

The value of one point in the post-season is several times greater than one point in the regular season.

Because the games are between high-level teams, the difficulty of scoring that one point increases dramatically.

Would it have been better to have him pitch only until the 6th inning?

No, it might be better to give up one run and block one inning.

Six scoreless innings are more valuable than seven innings with one run allowed. Hyeok-jun himself knows this. Seeing Chu Bong-gi wearing his jacket, ready to come up in the 8th inning.

“Curveball!”

“Ah, curve!”

Thwack!

Leaving behind Hyeok-jun, who was dejected for giving up just one point, I did what I had to do. I prepared for what I had to do.

The 7th inning attack would start with Gyu-hak, number 8. Just when I thought the start might be a bit disappointing,

Pinch hitter, Jang Ju-ho.

A quick gamble was made. Although it was the later part of the game, Gyu-hak, who could be described as ‘catcher defense’ personified, was out, even though two innings of defense remained, for the sake of victory.

Why?

It was understandable to some extent. If we could score a run like this, the high experience of the pitchers who would take over in the 8th and 9th innings would offset the negative factors, he must have judged.

However, the absolute prerequisite for this,

Tap!

Now that it’s come to this, we absolutely had to score at least one point.

Ju-ho swung from the very first pitch without hesitation. He pulled the fastball, which was deeply inside, with all his might. The quality of the hit was good. Estimated distance of 125m [approximately 410 feet].

“Foul!”

A hit that would have been a home run if it had gone inside the foul pole. Relief for the opposing team, disappointment for us.

But Ju-ho himself didn’t show much disappointment.

He nonchalantly adjusted his helmet, fiddled with the neck of his bat, and applied tar.

Even while doing that, he never took his eyes off Chu Bong-gi for a moment.

“Ball!”

Was it a decoy, or was the strength in his hand slowly fading?

He nonchalantly picked out a pitch that was high and out of the zone but still had powerful velocity, then took a step back.

As the ball was returned and the pitcher reorganized, Ju-ho was also idly swinging his bat, looking for his point.

Third pitch.

“Strike!”

A curveball that didn’t break much but sharply broke into the zone beautifully.

The bat started to swing, but he didn’t bother swinging at the awkwardly timed pitch.

Even as the ball was returned to the pitcher, Ju-ho was quietly, quietly staring at Chu Bong-gi.

“…hit it. You can do it, you can do it……”

A word that is almost a derogatory term for a fielder who mainly plays as a catcher, a pinch hitter.

Ju-ho had been accustomed to such words since he joined the team.

It couldn’t be helped. That was his perceived ability.

But now Ju-ho is standing at the plate.

The hitting ability, which is evaluated to have as much potential as Seong-hyun, or even more, is also Ju-ho’s ability.

And now,

Crack!

Wow!

“…it’s gone.”

It was time to unleash all of his abilities. It was time to prove his worth.

“It’s gone!”

“Ju-ho!”

As he reached first base, he confirmed that the hit had completely cleared the fence and raised his right hand above his head.

“Yes, yes!”

“Ju-ho!”

“That bastard, he did it!”

Thump, thump, thump!

The teammates celebrated by slapping Ju-ho on the back of the head.

…Occiput [back of the head].

Myeong-jin’s nonsense flashed through my mind, but I didn’t say it out loud. After looking at Ju-ho with satisfaction, I took my eyes off him and focused on another catcher on the team.

“Sinker.”

“Sinker!”

Thwack!

Chu Bong-gi, who stubbornly came out until the 8th inning and got hit with another home run, ignored the pitching coach’s words, who had come up to replace him, and continued his battle with Hoon.

Tap!

After getting hit with another hit that could be replaced with the word recklessness or greed, he finally returned to his dugout.

Myeong-jin was caught on camera, glaring at the opposing team’s reliever’s practice pitches and swinging hard.

Aim for the first pitch from the new pitcher.

He tried to time it with several swings, but the adage of the baseball world doesn’t always work. As with all of life, not every word fits every situation.

He foolishly went for the first pitch and was caught out on a fly ball to the third baseman, and immediately, the bullpen door opened.

Ding!

[Post-Season, Again!]

– Pitch 1 inning without allowing a run. (0/1)

– Reward ― +1 to all pitches

I secretly wondered if I would become the winning pitcher if I pitched and we scored in the bottom of the 8th, but that thought quickly disappeared.

What does a win mean to a reliever?

It’s true that I’m tempted by the title of winning pitcher, but a save, or even better, a hold, is a bigger crown for me.

Thwack!

Practice pitches began towards Ju-ho, who was already sitting behind home plate.

Hold.

Let’s block the top of the 8th. If we block it, things will work out somehow.

“Ju-ho!”

“Yes!”

After throwing about five pitches, my mouth moved faster than my head. I called out just because I wanted to, but I didn’t have anything to say.

“…Let’s do well!”

“Yessir!”

Instead of an answer, I heard a shout. Thanks to that, my heart, my tension, was relieved.

Number 9, number 1, number 2. I’ll meet them again.

Seeing Kang Seok-young timing my pitches in the waiting batter’s box reminded me of Woo-seok.

He must be standing behind the lead batter. I don’t need to see it to be sure.

Play!

As soon as the practice pitches were over, Kang Seok-young ran in. A very skinny hitter with just an average height.

He was really skinny. Really, really skinny. I wondered how he could play third base with that body.

In other words, at best, a single.

“Strike!”

First, I threw a slider. I was worried about Ju-ho’s weak framing [the catcher’s ability to make a pitch look like a strike to the umpire], so I aimed outside, where I could definitely get a strike.

Because of that, it was a bit of a meatball [an easy pitch to hit], but I wanted to see what he would do, so I got a free strike.

What should I throw? Outside sinker? Outside changeup? Inside sinker? He nodded on the third one.

A slider going backdoor [a slider that starts outside the plate and breaks back in], a sinker going front door [a sinker that starts inside and breaks towards the plate]. A feeling of gathering from the outside to the inside, that’s how I decided to approach this at-bat.

“Ugh!”

Inside pitches are dangerous.

Because the batter might get hit?

No, because it’ll get hit if it’s a mistake. That’s why I need to be more confident and throw even harder.

As soon as the ball left my fingertips, I felt it instantly.

Ah, it’s deep.

Not where the batter would get hit, but an area that would graze the zone.

Bang!

“Strike, two!”

Huh?

I saw Ju-ho’s mitt moving quickly. Not the clumsy movement I usually saw.

Not as good as Gyu-hak, but a move that was good enough to applaud for great framing.

I felt the bewilderment, but the batter must have felt it even more strongly than anyone else. Let’s think of it as luck. This kind of luck can’t last forever.

“Foul!”

“Ball!”

“Foul!”

I threw a sinker, a slider, and a fastball, but the only thing that increased was one ball. Since three consecutive fastballs went inside, I thought it would be good to go with an outside changeup one more time.

Thumb, and index finger.

Did you take a calling class, Ju-ho? How could he match my thoughts so perfectly?

I couldn’t stop my eyes from widening in surprise for a moment. Unprofessionally. I quickly nodded and went into my windup.

Throw it like a fastball. But deliberately push it, never hit it.

The advice the pitching coach gave me about the changeup. I followed it faithfully.

Whoosh!

“Swing, out.”

I poked Ju-ho with my index finger to mean it was good. His reaction was a smile.

Smiling, he got up and threw the ball towards third base.

Like an annual event, I circled the mound and bent down to grab the rosin. Feeling like just patting it wasn’t enough, I even picked it up and tapped it before grabbing the ball again.

First batter, Choi Woo-seok.

Is it you?

It’s me.

I told him with my eyes when he stood at the plate, and he answered with his eyes as he entered the plate.

Would it be okay to continue the concept I touched on with Kang Seok-young in the previous at-bat?

I pointed to my shoulder with my pinky finger. Ju-ho nodded and the sign was returned. I received it and returned it to Ju-ho again.

Bang!

“Strike!”

Huh?

The inside sinker worked.

No, I thought it would work, but I didn’t think it would get called a strike.

Like the sinker I threw to Kang Seok-young earlier, Ju-ho showed great framing again. He showed with his expression that it wasn’t a fluke.

Okay. I acknowledge it.

The special lessons that had been going on since the end of the season must have been effective.

Again, the sign started from my side. This time, I touched my hat and glove with my index finger. He nodded and I went into my windup.

Tick!

“Foul!”

It was a slider that I threw aiming for the outside corner, but it seemed to have loosened up a bit as it flew, and it went in ambiguously. It would have been a ball if I had left it alone.

Woo-seok isn’t usually weak on the outside. Strangely, he becomes weak on the outside when he meets me.

Then I should take advantage of that. Does Ju-ho know what I want to throw now?

Once again, thumb, and index finger.

He knew. Exactly the same. A smile spread across my face with satisfaction. How would Woo-seok have taken this smile? His expression became determined.

He changed his grip and went into his windup. Let’s throw it as hard as possible. Just the arm.

After my left leg was lifted, my hip joint moved quickly. The fastest possible hip rotation created a fast arm swing, but the stiff wrist nullified all the previous processes.

A changeup that goes like an outside fastball but runs further outside. A great area to face Woo-seok, who has a relative weakness on the outside and has been forced to recognize that area.

I saw Woo-seok’s bat coming out as I expected. The knob appeared and disappeared. Once it comes that far, you can never stop the bat.

Ah.

But then I felt another sensation. The ball, which had less spin than I thought, fell more,

Thud!

Meaning it would bounce. Ju-ho moved quickly in the direction the ball was hitting the ground.

A move that Ju-ho would never have thought of doing normally. He blocked the bouncing ball with his stomach, quickly picked it up, and tagged Woo-seok.

You… you’ve changed?

A move that made me think of cheesy lines. Ju-ho was qualified enough to hear those lines.

Kim Seong-hoon, who came up next, was also struck out in five pitches, ending the inning.

Furthermore,

Ding!

[Post-Season, Again!]

– Pitch 1 inning without allowing a run. (1/1)

– Reward ― +1 to all pitches

Control ― Top

Power ― Medium

Stamina ― Medium

Four-seam ― 59+1=60