Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]: Chapter 133

#132. God, Save Us

Two strikeouts and a ground ball.

Kim Sung-soo, the most senior member of the Korean national team, who hadn’t reached base in his three previous at-bats, stood at the plate with a calm expression.

He’ll be forty next year. He debuted at twenty and has spent nearly 20 years in professional baseball.

A lot has happened.

Undrafted, he didn’t give up, joining the Warriors as a rookie free agent and playing for them for eight years.

He even briefly experienced the big leagues, the dream of every baseball player.

He failed, but he has no regrets.

Ever since he was a kid dreaming of becoming a baseball player, it had been his only dream. Although it ended in failure, he was satisfied just to have stepped onto the big league stage, even briefly.

He returned to Korea, but his former team didn’t take him back. They were burdened by his price tag of over 10 billion won [approximately $7.5 million USD].

It was a shame, but there was nothing he could do.

It felt awkward wearing the Magicians uniform, the team of their Jamsil [a district in Seoul known for its sports complex] rivals, but after spending more than 10 years there, memories of his current team began to outweigh those of the Warriors.

And then he met that kid.

Han Su-hyeok, the twenty-year-old rookie glaring at the pitcher with a hardened expression from the on-deck circle.

That kid, who single-handedly shut down the monster hitters of the American team, the best of the best who even in his prime he couldn’t even touch, is now holding a bat and preparing for his last at-bat.

Suddenly, he bursts out laughing.

He, too, thought he was a genius.

After winning the batting title in his early twenties, he recorded a batting average of over .300 every year, confident that he wouldn’t lose to anyone, at least in terms of hitting. At least in Korea.

But he was wrong.

He wasn’t a genius. And it wasn’t a matter of race.

Right before his eyes is a player so perfect that it’s hard to believe he’s Korean, the best of the best in every aspect, both as a hitter and a pitcher.

‘Heaven is quite unfair.’

The frustration he felt when he failed to challenge the big leagues washed over him again.

He remembered the moment he wished he had just a little more talent.

It’s useless. He’s no longer the main character. He has to become a supporting player, backing up his juniors in both his team and the national team.

The time he has left as a player is almost up.

With Han Su-hyeok pitching, Kim Sung-soo, who played left field for the first time in a long time, has only handled two balls today.

But he’s already exhausted. His footsteps feel so heavy as he chases after the ball.

-All ballplayers should quit when it starts to feel as if all the baselines run uphill.

That saying left by Babe Ruth suddenly flashed through his mind.

And he realized. The time for him to retire was really approaching.

‘But I can’t step down like this.’

Probably, no, definitely, he can’t leave this stage, which will be his last international tournament, with two strikeouts and one ground ball.

An opportunity was created with Jang Deok-soo’s heads-up play and Lee Soo-young’s infield hit, putting runners on first and second with no outs.

He looked at the dugout, wondering if a bunt sign would come out, but the manager and coach were watching the game without moving at all.

It meant they were entrusting everything to him. Or, to be precise, they were betting the fate of today’s game on Han Su-hyeok right behind him.

If he succeeds in a sacrifice bunt here, the American team will unconditionally walk Han Su-hyeok to load the bases.

Of course, they could load the bases like that and trust the next batter.

If it were the domestic league, he would have bunted here no matter what.

But this is a place where monsters who throw 100 miles [161 kilometers] per hour are rampant. It’s a battlefield where tremendous balls fly that you’d never see in the KBO [Korean Baseball Organization] in your life.

Thinking about how Korean hitters were completely shut down by American pitchers in today’s game makes his head spin.

What if they make it to first and second with one out with a bunt and a walk, and then a double play happens there? Or what if the last inning ends futilely with consecutive strikeouts?

‘No way!’

There’s no choice.

It’s a bit frustrating, but he has to admit it.

The only hitter who can face those monsters and make a bet on the team’s fate at this point is Han Su-hyeok.

Therefore, his job is to somehow get on base in front of Han Su-hyeok and prevent them from walking him.

Kim Sung-soo, biting his lower lip tightly, took his batting stance for his last international tournament, his last at-bat.

The swing that was faster and more precise than anyone else in his prime is now nowhere to be found.

His bat speed has dropped to the point where it’s hard to react to fastballs inside, and even well-hit balls are often caught in front of the fence.

The American national team dugout, well aware of that fact, signaled for a shift.

The space to hit a hit has become even narrower.

But he mustn’t waver. His pride won’t allow him to retire pathetically on this historic stage.

“Ball.”

Jimmy McCown’s 99-mile fastball dug into the inside.

For a moment, he thought about sticking out his elbow like Jang Deok-soo, hoping to get hit by the pitch, but he could lose a ball count and even get injured.

What he needs now isn’t luck.

Hit it, hit it. Hit it somehow.

“Strike!”

A cut fastball flew in on almost the same course.

It comes inside and digs into the zone, a ball that’s almost impossible for a left-handed hitter to hit.

Kim Sung-soo licked his lips and moved as close to the batter’s box as possible.

If it’s a course that’s hard to hit anyway, he has no choice but to put pressure on the pitcher like this.

Throw it if you dare. I’ll get out even if I get hit.

The opposing pitcher is also feeling the pressure in this match, or rather, in the match with Han Su-hyeok, who is glaring with his eyes burning in the on-deck circle.

Yes, maybe a change of perspective is needed.

There’s no way that pitcher Jimmy McCown is afraid of him, but he’s feeling the pressure from the next hitter, Han Su-hyeok.

Because of that, that guy will never want to send me to first base.

“Ball.”

This time, it was a changeup that came into the center of the zone and then dropped sharply. He barely managed to hold back his bat with superhuman patience.

Two balls and one strike.

Kim Sung-soo had a feeling.

It’s a showdown. That pitcher, who hates sending him to first base more than death, will never throw a ball here.

What kind of ball will come in?

Inside fastball? Cut fastball? Or another changeup?

You have to simplify your thoughts. He no longer has the ability to see the ball and hit it.

He throws away the changeup. And focuses on the inside fastball.

Fastball or cut fastball. If he focuses on the fastball first, he seems to be able to respond to some extent.

Gnash

Kim Sung-soo gripped the bat with all his might.

It’s okay if this is the last time. He’s confident that he won’t regret it even if he puts everything into this one swing and retires.

Whoosh

Jimmy McCown’s fateful pitch dug into the inside. And Kim Sung-soo’s bat stretched out powerfully.

Fastball?

No, it’s a cut fastball.

Kim Sung-soo, sensing the change in the ball, adjusted his bat speed, holding his elbow tightly to his side as if his ribs would break.

Thwack!

It wasn’t as good as in his prime, but the best swing he could make now met the ball.

But the god of fate didn’t side with him.

“Third base!”

The ball flew towards Luke Bell, the American team’s number two hitter and the big league’s leading third baseman.

“No!”

A scream-like cry echoed from the Korean stands.

The worst-case scenario of a double play began to come to everyone’s mind.

But then.

Thud

“Fuck!”

“Damn it, Luke!”

“First base, first base!”

Was he too conscious of the double play?

Luke Bell, who was in a hurry to handle the ball, fumbled it. He belatedly grabbed the ball and threw it to first base, but Kim Sung-soo, who had squeezed out every last bit of strength, had already arrived at first base.

“You fucking idiot!”

“Die! Go die!”

“A guy who gets paid 20 million dollars a year, is that what you do? Huh? You fucking pig!”

A huge amount of boos and all sorts of garbage flew onto the ground.

They were American fans who didn’t get easily excited by ordinary things, but they couldn’t accept the veteran’s mistake in the bottom of the ninth inning, as they were convinced of their own team’s victory.

“Good job, Sung-soo. You’ve worked hard. Let’s stop here today.”

“Yes, coach.”

Kim Sung-soo, who was panting and sweating on first base, was replaced by a pinch runner.

The garbage flying into the American stands, and the huge boos.

And the cheers and shouts of support from the Korean fans.

The rough breathing of the players from both teams, exhausted from the continuous close game.

The atmosphere of the stadium, which had been so chaotic, suddenly froze in the next moment.

[Batter number 5, pitcher Han Su-hyeok]

The stadium announcer’s voice announcing that it was Han Su-hyeok’s turn.

The atmosphere of the stadium cooled down at that calm voice.

The mouths of the American fans, who remembered the two hits Han Su-hyeok had hit today and the unbelievable pitching he had shown until the ninth inning, were tightly shut, and the pitcher on the mound turned pale.

On the other hand, the Korean fans watched his appearance with their mouths tightly shut, as if they knew that they shouldn’t make a sound and shouldn’t disturb Han Su-hyeok’s concentration here.

Han Su-hyeok, who had left the on-deck circle, slowly walked into the batter’s box.

Tilting his head from side to side as if loosening his neck, lightly turning the bat he was holding from side to side.

The American players felt a shiver at each and every one of those trivial movements.

It wasn’t just the American players who were feeling fear at Han Su-hyeok’s appearance.

– I’m getting that feeling, Dave.

– Tell me what it is, Steve.

– Don’t you think something’s seriously wrong?

– Only now? I think it’s been wrong since the moment he gave the first batter a hit by pitch.

– Damn it, let’s take a look at this player’s performance in this game. 9 innings without a run as a pitcher, 16 strikeouts, and a no-hitter. In the batter’s box? A hit in the first at-bat, a double in the second at-bat, and yes, an outfield fly that almost went over in the third at-bat. He’s crazy. Is this even human?

– Steve, I’ll be honest. Before broadcasting today’s game, I scoffed at the idea that this player was the second Ohtani [Shohei Ohtani, a Japanese baseball star known for both his pitching and hitting]. I thought the Major League Secretariat, which was too busy creating stars, was exaggerating to promote this tournament.

– Have you changed your mind now?

– You bet I have. The second Ohtani? That’s ridiculous. Ohtani is just an outfielder, and most of the time he plays as a designated hitter. He was literally a designated hitter and pitcher. But this player is playing four roles in this tournament: shortstop, hitter, closer, and starting pitcher. And he’s doing it so perfectly.

– It’s really ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense.

– Look at the faces of the American players on the ground. Lucas, Zack, Aaron, even Ty, players with salaries of tens of millions of dollars are looking at Han Su-hyeok with a look of disgust. Damn it, the king of Progressive Field right now is none other than Han Su-hyeok.

– We should wish Jimmy McCown, who will be facing Han Su-hyeok with runners on first and second with no outs, good luck.

– Let’s all hold hands and pray, “God, save us!”