Peaceful Bullpen Life [EN]: Chapter 23

23. What I Can Do

– Your love is the wildcard―

Waaahhh—!!

My entrance music echoed through Jamsil Stadium. The electronic display showed me in a slightly cheesy pose, ready to pitch, with the number 4 stamped beside it in a decent size.

After the intro video ended, my profile picture appeared, along with my season stats:

4 Kim Han-wool RP [Relief Pitcher]

57 Games, 68.2 Innings, 1.54 ERA [Earned Run Average], 9 Wins, 1 Loss, 35 Holds, 10 Saves, 68 Strikeouts, 36 Walks, 0 Hit by Pitch, WHIP [Walks plus Hits per Inning Pitched] 1.17

The team’s guardian angel. Could there be a more reliable pitcher in this situation?

The team directly and indirectly expressed their desire for victory. That alone could boost the morale of our team and our fans. Furthermore, it could demoralize the opponent.

Don’t be mistaken. My opponent isn’t Visco. It’s Dongseong.

Those people in the away cheering section chanting for the opposing team’s sixth batter don’t matter. Right now, my opponent is Jo Sang-wook, the sixth batter for the Dongseong Hornets.

Because it was a sudden appearance in an urgent situation, I received a little more consideration than usual for practice pitches, completing about 20.

The umpire signaled the batter to come into the box, and he stepped in, tamping down the dirt around his pivot foot.

In those few seconds, I had some time to look around. The infield was packed. Our team’s four fielders, the opposing team’s three runners, and even two opposing coaches.

Had it ever been this crowded when I pitched this season?

Dding—!

[Post-Season Advancement Decider!]

– Lead the team to the post-season! (0/1)

– Reward ― All pitches +3

Above the electronic display. Considering the distance, the text appeared much larger than any quest I’d seen before.

Let’s win. Let’s win. Let’s win and advance.

As I stepped onto the plate, the umpire pointed at me and called the play.

The score was tied 0-0, with two outs and bases loaded.

The opposing batter had power and good contact, but his eye wasn’t great. The outfielders were playing shallow, and the infielders were playing slightly back.

My first pitch was a sinker that broke inside.

“Ball.”

Perhaps he didn’t expect me to come inside in such a dangerous situation, as the batter’s bat twitched. It was called a ball by the umpire because it fell outside, but

Waaah—!!

The first base umpire saw it differently. He ruled that the tip of the bat had crossed the plate, so a strike was called. Sweet.

The second pitch was exactly the same as before. The same spot, the same breaking ball.

Whether it was experience or not, he didn’t flinch, watching it go by, making the count 1-1. Next, I thought my curve, which was well placed low, would be called a strike, but it was called a ball again, making the count 2-1.

Feeling ambiguous about the count, I thought for a moment before watching a fastball that filled the outside corner, making it 2-2.

Ah, this is giving me a headache.

I took my foot off the plate while looking at Gyu-hak’s signals. I briefly raised my hand to apologize to the batter and fiddled with the rosin bag, trying to clear my head.

I can’t let him hit it. I can’t let him get hit. I can’t walk him.

The pressure I should have been feeling wasn’t as great as I expected.

He could get a hit. I could walk him. I’m confident I won’t hit him.

However, I was just getting a headache trying to figure out how to get this batter out, no matter what.

Usually, the catcher, with some input from the pitcher, completes the pitch selection.

The necessary factors for that decision are our pitcher’s power, control, information about the opposing batter, the current out count, ball count, runner situation, and so on. There are so many.

One more thing to add to that is the current condition of the opposing batter. A batter who could hit a 160km [~99.4 mph] fastball that fills the inside corner for a home run might swing and miss at a 140km [~87 mph] fastball right down the middle the very next day. That’s baseball.

In that sense, I lacked information about the sixth batter, Jo Sang-wook. All I knew was that he was weak against outside pitches and didn’t swing at them well.

“…Hmm.”

My thoughts were organized in just a few seconds. I stepped onto the plate again, and my gaze went to Gyu-hak’s right hand. After shaking my head a few times, I nodded when a signal I liked came up.

Ttak—

“Foul!”

A fastball that missed the outside corner by half a ball resulted in a foul.

Tik—

“Foul!”

Another foul on a 137km [~85.1 mph] fastball that filled the outside corner.

Tik—

“Foul!”

A slider that grazed the outside resulted in a foul.

Ttaak—!!

“Foul.”

A well-hit foul on a changeup at belt height on the outside.

Four consecutive pitches were fouled off, and I had thrown eight pitches against just one batter.

But I smiled inwardly, thinking that the setup pitch was complete. After dismissing about three pitch signals, I brought my middle and index fingers to my left shoulder.

Gyu-hak nodded and gave another signal. I nodded once more and went into my windup this time.

Whoooo—

With a deep breath, my left foot moved back. My concentration was excellent right now. Gyu-hak’s mitt looked incredibly large. No, I could only see that.

I could feel the first and second base runners twitching during the windup, but I didn’t pay attention.

Soon, the lifting began, and my right leg bent. My teeth were clenched. My face was contorted. I briefly thought that I would look ugly in the news photos.

“Ugh… Aak!”

Full effort. I guess this is what they mean when they say that.

“Swing!”

A 143km [~88.8 mph] fastball aimed high and inside.

Waaah—!!

“Ssaaaaa!!”

My right fist clenched! A shout burst out involuntarily. As soon as I ran into the dugout, my teammates welcomed me. I enjoyed slapping hands with each of them as they rushed toward me.

“It’s not over yet! We need to score to finish it!”

“Yes!”

In the cheerful atmosphere, the captain demanded that we score at least one run. The batting order started with Ki-sung, the third batter. Ki-sung, stepping into the left batter’s box, attacked aggressively from the first pitch.

Although it became a foul, if it had come inside by just 10cm, even Ki-sung, who wasn’t fast, could have safely reached second base.

However, after a persistent seven-pitch battle, he was out on a ground ball to second base, and the fourth batter appeared.

It was a huge hit from the first pitch. It was caught right in front of the center field fence of this large Jamsil Stadium. It might be concerning that it was from the first pitch, but I didn’t see it negatively.

Ki-sung had matched the timing by hitting many fouls earlier, and a good hit actually came out.

However, what was disappointing was Seung-joo’s at-bat, the fifth batter. I don’t know what he was in such a hurry for, but he was out on a ground ball to the shortstop with a swing that just tapped the ball after only two pitches, and soon the top of the eighth inning was over.

Leaving the disappointment behind, I picked up my glove. I pulled my hat down low and headed to the mound.

I roughly filled in the slightly dug-out mound with my foot, and then the practice pitches began. My pitch count was nine right now. It was quite a lot for facing only one batter.

My maximum pitch count in a relief appearance this season was 31. I had to pitch through the eighth and ninth innings. Even if I finished with an ideal 15 pitches per inning, that would be about 40. It far exceeded my maximum pitch count.

“Strike!”

Even so, I threw without thinking about conserving stamina.

“Swing!”

Because if we lost, it was over anyway.

“Strike!”

I just decided to do what I could.

“Out!”

“Nice, nice!!”

A ground ball to third base, a strikeout, and finally, Sung-moon, the second baseman, making a diving play, consumed all three out counts.

I finished the top of the eighth with 11 pitches and headed to the dugout. It was time to watch our eighth-inning attack. It wasn’t very long. Similarly, our attack ended with 11 pitches as well.

I hadn’t rested much, and I had to pick up my glove again. It felt like I hadn’t been down for long, like I had just gone to the bathroom while pitching.

But I preferred this in such an important game. Because my concentration wouldn’t be broken.

First batter, shortstop Choi Yong-hwan.

It was the home announcer’s inorganic announcement. A small cheer started from the away cheering section.

A very annoying batter appeared as the leadoff hitter. He was an annoying leadoff hitter in a different sense from Woo-seok, who was national team-level.

Unlike Woo-seok, who had many strengths but also clear weaknesses, but covered those weaknesses with momentary wit and physicality, he was a leadoff hitter with a very even distribution and no weaknesses.

If you tried to induce ground balls, he had a high ground ball rate, and on top of that, he was a right-handed hitter who could run to first base in 4 seconds flat, making him incredibly annoying.

I wiped the ball and stepped onto the plate, deciding to focus on Gyu-hak’s signals. If he was a batter with no weaknesses, I would push through with my strengths.

“Strike!”

The count was caught with a slider that grazed the outside. After receiving the ball again, I stood on the plate without delay. I nodded at once and went into my windup.

“Ball.”

I wondered if I should try to tempt him, so I threw a splitter that I hadn’t thrown at all today, but he didn’t react to the ball that dropped more than I thought.

After shaking my head once, twice, a signal I liked came out. A changeup that broke outside.

“Swing!”

It was a swing where the umpire’s right hand changed into a fist. Choi Yong-hwan tilted his head, as if he didn’t like something.

It seemed that Gyu-hak’s thoughts and my thoughts were the same. I nodded immediately at the next signal and went into my windup without hesitation.

“Swing, out!”

A high inside fastball, 141km [~87.6 mph], resulted in a strikeout. The thought that I shouldn’t give up ground balls, that I should rather let him fly out, seemed to have worked. While rounding the mound, I carefully applied rosin and welcomed the second batter.

Second batter, first baseman Jo Hee-jin.

From here, the left-handed lineup began. Four consecutive left-handed batters started from the second batter. A slightly unusual team where more than half of the team’s lineup was left-handed.

But I liked it very much. I would catch the count with an outside fastball and induce ground balls with sinkers and changeups.

Thinking that way in my head and waiting for the signals, the signal from the first pitch was an inside fastball, unlike my thoughts. After judging that it wasn’t bad, I watched the ball I threw, and one strike was earned.

After that, he watched the outside sinker, and after earning the count again with an inside fastball, a fastball that stuck closer from the inside slowly rolled toward me.

Because it wasn’t a very fast hit, I quickly ran to pick it up and threw it to first baseman Ki-sung, resulting in two outs.

Let’s just keep going like this.

I headed back to the mound.

Third batter, third baseman Go Myung-hyun.

The tension up until now was futile, and Go Myung-hyun futilely tapped an outside fastball from the first pitch and was out on a ground ball to third base, ending Dongseong’s last attack in the regulation innings. My role was probably up to here.

When I returned to the dugout, Hyuk-joon was walking normally and smiling. When I asked if he was okay, he said it seemed like a simple contusion, so he could go to the hospital later.

It seemed like he wanted to stay until the end and see our team win and decide our advancement to the post-season. But I was worried that our ninth-inning attack lineup was a bit weak for that.

Thinking that way, I watched Senior Sung-hoon, who was matching the timing to the opposing closer’s practice pitches.

“Seunbae-im [Senior].”

“Why.”

“Aing [Whining sound].”

“……..”

There was no need to look at me so disgustingly.

But thanks to that, I seemed to have relieved the tension and continued to show a good performance at the plate. Like Ki-sung in the previous inning, or even more so, he endured up to the ninth pitch and was out on a strikeout on the tenth pitch.

Seventh batter, second baseman! Jeon!! Sung!! Moon!!

Waaah—!!

Good hitting after good defense.

It was a story passed down like a baseball proverb. For good defense, the basics, skills, and so on are all important, but the most important thing is concentration.

Blocking or catching the ball coming toward me and throwing it to the correct location.

It was about hoping that the concentration shown in the defense would continue to the plate.

It was Sung-moon who had shown good defense earlier. I could only hope that the saying would apply to the current situation as well.

“…Ball!”

It didn’t seem to be wrong. He endured the ball that came in fully and stepped back from the plate.

The catcher didn’t move his mitt and appealed to the umpire, but the umpire boldly straightened his bent back and stuck to his opinion.

Rather, the opposing pitcher flicked his glove, meaning he didn’t care. He was telling him to give him the ball quickly.

The second pitch became a foul on another inside ball, and the third pitch, a breaking ball that grazed the outside…

“Ball!”

It became a ball.

Oh, Sung-moon is good today.

The catcher, who looked uncomfortable, returned the ball to the pitcher again, and on the ball that was thrown next,

Ttak—!

“Out!”

A liner toward the first baseman.

With disappointment, Sung-moon headed to the dugout, making a strange noise like “euwalara,” and then found Gyu-hak and went over to talk to him.

“Ah……”

It’s Gyu-hak.

I couldn’t bring myself to say the rest.

The catcher with the lowest batting average. No, the lowest batting average among the batters who entered the required plate appearances. .222. The so-called “kong kong kong” batting style [referring to the sound of weak hits].

He was a catcher who showed extreme strength in defense, but as soon as he entered the batter’s box, he looked so small.

I thought we would go to extra innings. I was thinking about around 40 pitches until the ninth inning, but I saved more pitches than I thought and cut it off at around 30. It might be right to think that there would be no next time if I came down.

“Strike!”

The first pitch was a fastball on the outside, and he couldn’t show any reaction and struck out. Gyu-hak briefly took a step back and was clearing his thoughts while waving his bat.

‘Manager, don’t you have a pinch hitter?’

Even if he looked at the manager with those eyes, there was no change in expression. He had no choice but to turn his head back to the ground.

“Swing!”

And he offered an absurd swing at a slider that flowed to the outside, giving up two strikes. But…

“…Huh?”

Déjà vu. Why? A strange déjà vu. It felt like there was a situation like this before.

Unable to shake off the déjà vu that was making people frustrated, I had to watch the third pitch.

After an outside fastball and an outside ball slider, was he aiming for an inside pitch that would stab in? Was he aiming for a ground ball to third base, unable to react or getting caught in the neck?

Ttaak—

“…Huh?”

Gyu-hak cleared that ball with a swing even more beautiful than our team’s hitting ace, Sung-hyun. The ball that flew in a large arc,

Deng—

“…It’s gone.”

It hit the left foul pole and fell to the ground.

Waaah—!

“Wal, wawagaamwa!!”

“Iyararaaaa!!”

I don’t know what those sounds mean. Everyone was like that. They screamed and ran out onto the ground. Each of them holding one or two beverage bottles in their hands.

Dding—

[Post-Season Advancement Decider!]

– Lead the team to the post-season! (1/1)

– Reward ― All pitches +3

Control ― Top

Power ― Medium

Stamina ― Low

Four-seam ― 54+3=57

Curve ― 43+3=46

Slider ― 31+3=34

Splitter ― 37+3=40

Changeup ― 42+3=45