Peaceful Bullpen Life [EN]: Chapter 101

September 30th, Monday. A day I’d normally spend relaxing at home, legs stretched out, no game to worry about.

Beeeep-!

“Attention, please be aware of foul balls.”

Jamsil Stadium, usually a place of casual chatter, was buzzing with people preparing for the final, official showdown.

No one here was smiling or joking around.

Not even Hyung-jin hyung, who was warming up in the bullpen.

Not even Seong-hyun, who was practicing in the batting cage.

Not even the coach, who was observing everything.

Not even the opposing team, who mirrored our serious demeanor.

Solemnity.

Everyone moved with a firm resolution etched on their faces.

I, who usually killed time with idle games, was no different. I focused my mind by doing tubing exercises and stretching.

78 wins, 1 draw, 46 losses.

Today, the two teams with identical records would be definitively separated. Even a draw would be resolved by tie-breaking criteria to determine the ultimate first place.

Co-first place.

While the Sangsoo Tigers being in first place was considered the norm, the Wonha Challengers sharing that spot was a major upset.

They’d been steadily improving for years, and everyone acknowledged their strength, but who would have predicted they’d challenge the established dominance of Sangsoo?

2017 season: 4th place, eliminated in the 준-playoff [semi-playoff].

2018 season: 3rd place, eliminated in the playoff.

And this year, the 2019 season, they had secured at least 2nd place in the league and were fighting for a direct ticket to the Korean Series [championship series of Korean baseball].

Even if we lose, we’re still in 2nd place, right? Even 2nd place is one step higher than last year, isn’t it?

No one involved agreed with that sentiment.

We have to aim for it when we can, when it’s within reach. Who can guarantee we’ll take another step forward next year just because we’re doing well this year?

“Korean Series…”

I let those words, like a fantastical creature, escape my mouth. The warm breath fogged in the now-chilly air.

“Curve.”

“Curve!”

Normally, I’d be sitting in front of Hyung-jin hyung, who was pitching, cracking jokes with a silly grin.

The nonsense I spouted, under the guise of relieving tension, was surprisingly effective.

“Fastball.”

“Fastball!”

Bang!

“Changeup.”

“Changeup!”

Pow-!

But I didn’t. No, I couldn’t.

“Curve.”

“Curve!”

Boom!

In the noisy baseball stadium filled with all sorts of sounds, Hyung-jin hyung’s voice, quietly reciting, was firm.

The determination born from solemnity continued longer than I expected, or perhaps exactly as long as I expected.

Passing the 1st inning with three batters retired,

Finishing the 4th inning with three strikeouts,

Ending the 7th inning with five pitches,

“Ah, nice pitch!”

“Your pitches are great today!”

Until he high-fived those who welcomed him back to the dugout.

“Hoo… hoo…”

Hyung-jin hyung’s breathing, with a towel over his head, was audible right next to me.

92 pitches. Only three scattered hits, and no walks.

Like Hyuk-joon yesterday, he hadn’t created any major crises. If everything went as planned, he’d appear once more in the 8th inning.

Tap tap—

As I was keeping my mouth shut, trying not to disturb Hyung-jin hyung, the pitching coach came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes. Ah… yes.”

He carefully got up from his seat at the gesture to come out separately and stood by the dugout railing.

“It’s confirmed that you’ll be going out in the 9th inning.”

“The 9th inning?”

The eyes that had paused the conversation scanned the scoreboard.

0 to 0.

We can’t put in the closer in a tie game, and even if we score first, putting in the closer who has pitched three consecutive games would be a loss for the team.

And,

“Kyujin ‘is’ going to go up in the 8th inning.”

“‘Is’ going up means…”

“It means you might go up even in the middle of the 8th inning. Just be aware.”

Momentum.

The judgment is that a pitcher who has blocked an emergency situation that could have erupted in the bottom of the 8th inning will not deviate greatly from the momentum he has gained.

“Yes.”

“Let’s start warming up now.”

“Yes, yes.”

Fifth batter, Yoon Seung-joo.

The Wonha Challengers’ batter was introduced in a calm tone, unlike yesterday, and headed to the plate.

I watched Seung-joo’s actions at the plate while stretching. He fidgeted with his wrists and couldn’t keep his head still for a moment.

Seung-joo isn’t the best hitter or the most popular superstar in the league.

Bang-!

“Swing-.”

Even if we narrow the scope to our team, he doesn’t exactly fit into that category.

Boom-!

“Swing!”

Clutch hitter.

But if we move the category to ‘a batter who delivers when he needs to,’ everyone in all eight teams will say the same thing.

Thwack-!

There’s no clutch hitter like Wonha’s Yoon Seung-joo.

Thud-!

“Turn, turn!!”

“Go to second base!!”

The liner that went over the right fielder’s head directly hit the fence. Park Myung-ki showed good fence play and quickly threw to second base, but,

“Safe!”

Seung-joo had already occupied second base.

Yoon Seung-joo! Yoon Seung-joo! Yoon Seung-joo!

Waaaaah-!!

The fans who were waving Wonha’s balloons in the first base stands yesterday were chanting Seung-joo’s name from the opposite side.

The moment he needs to deliver.

The moment a clutch hitter needs to be active isn’t just when there’s a runner in scoring position.

In a crucial moment of a tie game, if he comes up as the lead batter, he needs to be the first to get on base and create an opening.

Seung-joo achieved 200% of his role and was replaced by pinch runner Ki-beom.

I watched with a pleased smile as the guy, who isn’t very tall and has a slender build, received excessive congratulations from his teammates, and removed the pitcher’s glove from my hand.

After that, Seong-hoon hyung wasted two bunt opportunities and struck out, and the 7th batter, Seong-moon,

Tap—

Abandoned his usual hitting style and used a pull-hitting technique solely for the purpose of advancing Ki-beom.

“1st, to 1st base!”

“What are you doing, pitcher!”

It was a bit far for the first baseman who caught the ball to step on the base, so I wondered if… but the pitcher who quickly covered the base received the toss, and Seong-moon had to return to the dugout.

Eighth batter, Moon Gyu-hak.

There’s something trendy these days, like a hidden powerhouse. If we were to put a label on Gyu-hak this season, we could use that term.

In a situation where the batting average of all the hitters in the league has dropped significantly, there are a few hitters who have actually increased their average.

One of them is Gyu-hak.

Last year, in a hitter-friendly season, he recorded a .240 batting average, but this year, he is fiercely resisting the pitcher-friendly trend and recording a .280 batting average.

Can we trust him?

We don’t have to look at the coach with eyes that say, ‘Can’t I be a pinch hitter?’ like before.

“Hey.”

“Yeah.”

As I was quietly watching Gyu-hak, Hyung-jin hyung had already taken off his towel and spoke to me.

“Do you remember what happened a while ago?”

“When?”

“When we went down to Daegu.”

“That time… why?”

“You said it. You said that the rankings would be decided in the last game again this year.”

“Ah… did I say that?”

You stupid bastard.

Hyung-jin hyung chuckled and muttered before getting up from his seat.

“From now on, don’t just blurt out things that set flags like that [make predictions that jinx the outcome].”

“Hehe….”

One more person was hanging on the bullpen railing, wishing for the starting catcher’s hit. I looked down next to me, worried that he wouldn’t be able to see over the railing because of his small height, and saw his tiptoes standing upright.

“Hyung.”

“What.”

“Let’s drink a lot of milk.”

“Why milk.”

“If we drink a lot now, won’t we get a little taller, even now?”

“Seriously, you’re the worst bastard.”

“Ah, praise.”

As the opposing pitcher’s right foot was raised, the senior and junior who were exchanging banter simultaneously closed their mouths.

Bang-!

“…Ball.”

I was startled, thinking it had landed in play… but the umpire, after a moment of deliberation, delivered good news.

After a slightly prolonged sign exchange, the pitcher returned to the set position. The pitcher, with Ki-beom fidgeting on third base behind him, carefully raised his right foot.

I focused on the white line extending from the pitcher’s left hand. The trajectory that flew without bending or curving anywhere soon,

Thwack-!

Waaaaah-!!

Drew a reversed trajectory and passed by the pitcher again. By the time the center fielder casually walked over and caught the ball, Ki-beom had already stepped on home plate.

1 to 0.

How can I possibly explain the thrill of the most needed score appearing at the most needed moment?

Moon Gyu-hak! Moon Gyu-hak! Moon Gyu-hak!!

The voices of the cheering fans?

“Shaaaaa!”

“Nice bat!”

“Gyu-hak, I believed in you!!”

The teammates in the dugout going crazy?

The answer is this throbbing that is increasing in the hearts of everyone mentioned earlier.

Excitement.

Gyu-hak, who stepped on first base with the home team behind him, smiled brightly and pointed at us with his finger. We also responded to the hitter who had created the late go-ahead run by pointing with our fingers.

Taking the momentum, Hooni showed a good hit in the 2-0 count, but unfortunately, he was caught by a line drive to the third baseman, ending the top of the 8th inning.

“Hyung.”

“Can I set one more flag?”

“…Try it.”

I briefly called out to Hyung-jin hyung, who was about to head back to the mound, and smiled.

“We’re going to win today. We’re going to win and take first place, and we’re going to go straight to the Korean Series.”

“…….”

Hyung-jin hyung looked at me with his left foot on the step, then,

“…You crazy bastard.”

Left the bullpen, leaving behind praise.

Flag.

Perhaps he heard the pitching coach’s words that he might be put in even in the bottom of the 8th inning if things got urgent, Hyung-jin hyung continued to show an overwhelming performance.

Seventh batter, Shin Tae-beom. Strikeout swinging with a 124km curve, 149km fastball, 148km fastball, 133km changeup.

Eighth batter, Park Myung-ki. Strikeout swinging with a 150km fastball, 131km changeup, 126km curve.

Ninth batter, Min Jong-hyun. Strikeout swinging with three fastballs at 154km, 153km, 156km.

I was the first to approach the pitcher who was returning after finishing the inning in style and said a word of congratulations.

“Ah, hyung. I was going to make a cool entrance and hear things like, ‘Hanooul, you’re the best,’ you know?”

“Are you crazy, really.”

Even the person who received the encouragement couldn’t contain his joy and returned with a face full of smiles.

The pitcher who came down from Wonha’s mound headed behind the dugout for icing, and the pitcher who went up to Sangsoo’s mound was looking at his catcher for practice pitches.

“Sangsoo is serious too.”

“They are.”

The closing pitcher, who had a collective consciousness instilled in him that they couldn’t afford to lose any more points, was throwing the ball even though his team was losing.

Stop it here, and score at least one point in the bottom of the 9th to go to extra innings, or our team will end it in the bottom of the 9th.

“No way.”

I could clearly see the picture they were drawing in the opposing dugout.

Bang-!

“Ah, hyung, your pitches are really good today, really good!”

There’s no way I, who will be wearing the closing pitcher’s uniform for just one day, would allow that picture. Even if I allowed it, our team wouldn’t allow it.

Tear the canvas, spill the paint, break the brush.

Unfortunately, the three batters who came up in the top of the 9th also tried to interfere with the sketch by making the most of their strengths, but unfortunately, they all failed.

The canvas that Myung-jin tried to tear was tougher than expected.

The water bottle that Seong-hyun tried to spill was heavier than expected.

The brush that Ki-sung tried to break was straighter than expected.

“Hanooul, let’s go up.”

“Yes.”

The situation of going up with a 1-0 lead is very familiar to me. But the fact that the result will be a save, not a hold, feels a bit awkward.

“Hoo….”

The destination I’m trying to reach after leaving the bullpen is the place I visited just yesterday. But the starting point is the exact opposite of yesterday.

I stepped on the cognitive dissonance that came from there and glared at Gyu-hak.

Ding-!

[헹가레 Pitcher] [Hengahe Pitcher – a celebratory tradition where the winning pitcher is tossed in the air]

– Record a save with 1 inning without runs allowed (0/1)

– Reward – All pitches +3

I checked the black text written on the white catcher’s mitt.

“헹가레….”

The pitcher standing on the mound when the game ends.

First batter, Go!! Dong! Wook!!

Today, I will be the 헹가레 pitcher.