Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 112

Pitcher Done, Batter Up – Part 1

Watching the batter step up to the plate, Aidan Styles swallowed hard.

This was the turning point of the game.

‘Jungwoo Lee. I heard he used to be a pitcher. How can he be so good at this…?’

Jungwoo Lee.

The most sensational rookie in the majors right now.

He was so amazing that even the Atlanta GM [General Manager] had zero chance of getting him unless he had a gun to his head.

Trade offers were still pouring in. And the Dodgers were definitely one of those teams.

‘They say some teams are already waiting for his free agency. If he keeps up this form, they’d sell the whole team to get him.’

That’s the kind of joke they were making about the player who was currently tearing up the league.

He had heard all about this ‘monster,’ who was getting much more attention and anticipation than Aidan Styles himself, who was once a young protagonist like him.

He also knew what kind of hitter he was.

‘A power hitter. And not just someone with good power tools. A hitter with enough power that any decent hit can turn into an extra-base hit. Plus, his hitting mechanics are excellent. Actually, that’s even more impressive.’

His hitting was so good that the Dodgers’ scouting and analysis teams raved about it and feared it.

Whether it was bad plate discipline or he just had his own strike zone.

He often, quite often, went after pitches outside the strike zone.

But his hitting mechanics supported that.

His clean and straightforward open stance made it easy to swing the bat smoothly. It was more suited to a contact hitter focused on getting on base and batting average than a slugger who explosively generated power.

In a way, that kind of hitting combined with his innate overwhelming power was what made the monster in front of him.

Just facing such a hitter was already painful enough.

But his matchup was also bad.

‘His batting average against curveballs is insane. Just watching the game footage, he just crushes them.’

The pitching coach and head coach had told him after watching the analysis team’s video of Ilya Danilov, a top pitcher in the league, getting his perfect curveball crushed.

‘Don’t go head-to-head with him. That’s basically what they meant.’

Attack the corners, make it difficult for the hitter, and use good fastballs to push him to the edge.

They sugarcoated it like that, but what they really meant was to put the curveball on hold for a while and avoid a head-to-head matchup if possible.

But those words only fueled his competitive spirit.

And he also had confidence, even though his career was still lower than Jungwoo’s.

He believed that with a little more time, he would be better regarded than the pitchers Jungwoo had crushed.

All he needed was experience, time, and accumulated stats [statistics].

So he wouldn’t end up like that; that was his confidence.

He was honestly a little shaken by the pressure from the batter coming to the plate. But that confidence was still there.

‘Hoo. Yeah, there has to be this much pressure to make it worth crushing him.’

And from that confidence grew desire.

Aidan Styles himself, in front of so many fans, wanted to shut down the guy who had been tearing apart all the top pitchers.

“Aidan! Strike him out again!”

“Show that punk the real taste of the majors!”

He wanted to show them a dominant performance and be recognized as a true ace, not just some temporary ace like he was now, like the legends he admired.

‘I can do it. I’ve been doing well so far, right? I’ve even caught Vincent Harding a few times. And I have good stats against Joey Fredman, who’s on the same team as him. It’ll be the same with him.’

Aidan, as if hypnotizing himself, instilled confidence in himself and refocused.

The shouts directed at him faded away. He felt like the only ones in the vast Dodger Stadium were himself and the batter.

Oh, and the catcher.

‘Luckily, he seems to be thinking the same thing as me.’

Aidan grinned at the catcher’s call. The coaches had been asking for an ambiguous match.

The catcher’s sign was a fastball right into the body.

He didn’t know why he called that.

It could be the catcher’s veteran intuition.

Or maybe he was just trying to boost the young pitcher’s morale.

Either way, Aidan was grateful that the catcher had disobeyed the bench’s orders first.

‘Take the initiative, I’ll go first.’

A long exhale.

As soon as he inhaled again.

He stretched his body as it was.

As his outstretched leg hit the ground.

The left arm, hidden behind his back, slowly rose, drawing the power of his lower body, waist, and upper body in turn.

After reaching its peak, it descended as if slamming down, expressing the fully transmitted power.

The ball, full in his large hand, received it and flew.

‘Going right where I want it.’

He felt that the ball was heading exactly where he wanted it to go, with satisfaction filling him from his fingertips.

The batter glanced at the mound as the ball landed slightly low on the outside.

“Strike!”

“Nice first pitch! Let’s get the count up like that!”

“Let’s strike him out again!”

The umpire called a strike on the 90-mile low fastball. The fans were questioning the slower pitch than usual.

But they were satisfied that he had gotten a strike.

The coaches frowned at the start, which was a little different from the original plan of a thorough outside battle.

But soon, they seemed to respect the battery’s [pitcher and catcher] choice.

They clapped loudly to encourage him.

Since the decision had already been made, there was no way to change it, so it would be better to fill him with confidence.

‘I got the first pitch. Luckily, he didn’t swing. I was worried because he sometimes just hits the first pitch. It worked out well. That’s one strike.’

Aidan tried to maintain a poker face, but he thought it was a good start.

He was a hitter who sometimes connected the first pitch to an extra-base hit when he was in good condition.

So he took a certain amount of risk and threw it, but fortunately, the batter held back his swing, and his control was better than usual, so he got a strike.

It was a perfect match for the repertoire he had honed with the new pitch to erase the weakness of being a two-pitch pitcher, while controlling the pace and getting the count.

“Hoo.”

‘Should I go with that again?’

Aidan looked at the catcher. The catcher, as if he had already crossed the river [made up his mind], called for a fastball once more.

In fact, since the only pitches he had were a fastball and a curveball, it was a 50/50 chance.

It was natural, but.

He felt burdened by throwing the same pitch in a row.

However, the second fastball that Aidan Styles threw was a little different from the previous one.

While the previous fastball was 90 miles, this one was 97 miles, his highest speed in this game.

“Strike!”

The batter flinched at the fastball that flew much faster than before, as if the gear had gone up several notches in an instant.

The slightly high ball passed through the zone and landed in the catcher’s glove.

The atmosphere was further heightened by the consecutive strikes. The umpire also raised the heat with a hearty call.

‘My condition is good today. The pace is good, and the control is much better than usual.’

Usually, one of the two pitches he just threw would have been a ball.

Today, strangely enough, the ball landed exactly as he intended in this at-bat.

Aidan, who rolled the ball he had received back from the catcher in his hand like a walnut, licked his lips.

If it were another hitter, he would throw a curveball here. In fact, he didn’t care about the hitter’s batting average against curveballs, and he was going to do the same as usual this time.

But the catcher’s call was the problem.

‘Fastball? Not a curveball?’

When he asked with his eyes, the catcher firmly demanded a fastball again.

Aidan was suddenly displeased because he seemed to distrust his curveball.

But he soon nodded.

He had disobeyed the bench’s orders and thrown as he pleased, so if even the catcher turned his back on him in this situation, it would be quite difficult.

He threw the ball as requested, even though he was sulking, and he licked his lips at the batter who held back his bat this time as well.

It was a 94-mile fastball that floated high on the outside. It went in as he wanted, but unfortunately, it was a ball this time because he had originally intended to let it go.

‘I should have thrown it inside….’

It would have been a called strike.

Aidan was disappointed as he watched the batter who had waited calmly. But he soon shook off his regrets.

If it had gone into the zone, the batter might not have held back like he was now, but rather swung aggressively.

He tried to think that way.

‘Next?’

Aidan, who had forcibly put his thoughts aside, continued to focus on the match.

He alternated between pace control and full power, and after throwing only seven fastballs, he finally understood the catcher’s intention.

‘He was tricking the batter.’

With the batter’s cuts and letting them go, it was now a full count [three balls and two strikes]. It may have seemed like it was being done as the coaches intended.

But as it was in the beginning, it was different from their plan in the end.

The catcher’s sign was a curveball.

The intention was to make Aidan, like other pitchers, give the batter the idea that he wouldn’t throw a curveball to him.

Then, he would catch him with a surprise curveball.

‘Good, good. I’m going to catch the hitter that even great curveballers couldn’t catch with my curveball.’

It was perhaps a perfect plan.

In fact, the batter was gradually adjusting his swing to the fastball. In fact, the timing was getting closer and closer.

Perhaps his head was full of only fastballs.

If a surprise curveball came in that situation, the timing would inevitably be shaken.

‘Here it comes.’

A faint sense of elation was already beginning to fill him. At least for this inning.

He was convinced that he could catch that monster.

That’s why he threw the ball more pleasantly than ever today.

A beautifully flying curveball.

As expected, the batter quickly swung as if he had timed it to the fastball, then slightly flinched his bat.

Everything was perfect, and the match was going according to plan.

But unfortunately, there was something that Aidan Styles and the catcher, their battery, had overlooked, or rather, couldn’t even imagine.

“Huh?”

Whoosh-

First, the hitter, Lee Jungwoo, was a hitter who knew how to adjust his swing even if the ball was different from what he thought.

Second.

“Ah….”

Crack-

The premise that he would shake the timing with a surprise curveball was wrong from the start.

At least as far as the curveball, the vertical movement, was concerned, Lee Jungwoo was someone whose timing never wavered, no matter when or where.

The Dodger Stadium, where tension had been building with a tight match, and only the sound of swallowing could be heard from time to time.

There was no such noise now.

Silence, a quiet silence flowed through the ground.

The pleasant atmosphere was extinguished as if cold water had been poured on it.

The noise that had reappeared in the so quiet stadium was not theirs, the Dodgers’.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”

“Leeeeeeee!”

“Nice!”

“Awesome! Jungwoo Lee!”

It was the sound of the batter throwing down his bat and leisurely running the bases, the cheers of the Braves players who had jumped out of the bench, and the cheers of the few visiting fans and the cheers of the Koreans who had come to the stadium, cautiously glancing around.

“Ha… he hits that over.”

Aidan Styles, who sighed deeply and leaned back, muttered in a hollow tone.

That’s because one wrong choice at the end made all the intentions he had built up earlier worthless.

From Aidan’s point of view, it felt very futile, so he couldn’t hide his frustration.

Whether it was paranoia or not, Aidan Styles watched Lee Jungwoo leisurely circling the bases as if mocking him.

He thought alone.

‘The coaches were right.’

The coaches and the analysis team weren’t making a living off this for nothing.

The match that started with a daring gamble ended up confirming the coaches’ insight once again.

There were still many matches left.

Aidan was sure.

No matter how many chances he had left.

He didn’t think he would be able to throw the ball with as much confidence as he had now.

He had already tasted the bitterness once.

####

‘Why does his control seem to get better only when he’s playing against me?’

Top of the 7th, one out, runner on second.

Lee Jungwoo, who came up to bat for the third time, was dumbfounded.

When he saw him pitching to other players, he was clearly not a pitcher with great command, as the current evaluations suggested.

But for some reason, only to Lee Jungwoo himself, he showed decent control as if he was watching his pitching in his future prime.

He didn’t perfectly hit the corners.

But most of the balls he threw moved as the pitcher intended.

‘Is it because of the home run in the first at-bat that he’s focusing much more on me?’

That was the most plausible guess.

But the absurdity didn’t change.

Even so.

Just because he hit a home run(?).

To show such a different side only to a specific hitter.

Lee Jungwoo was frustrated.

But in fact, he was very calm and composed for someone like that.

That was his original personality.

But now he had a sense of it.

‘He threw a curveball in the first at-bat and got hit. He’s been throwing only fastballs ever since. He probably won’t throw a curveball this time either, like he did in the second at-bat. He got hit hard once.’

Still, he actively used pace control.

He divided the fastball into fast and slow balls.

Operating it like a two-pitch pitcher, it was quite powerful.

In addition, the fastball was a little better than he thought.

Due to the pace control, he showed his highest speed even faster. He struck out in the second at-bat. He was pushed to two and two in the third at-bat, but he had seen enough now.

Thanks to seeing more than a dozen fastballs throughout this game, he was now familiar with the opponent’s one pitch.

‘The slow ball is pulled out as much as possible or low. The following fastball is a high fastball.’

Lee Jungwoo twisted his bat.

He had seen enough of the ball.

Now it was his turn to hit it.

His goal was the high fastball.

It was a course with a high probability of leading to an extra-base hit.

But if he didn’t have enough bat speed or if his timing was already shaken, there was a high probability of a swing and a miss.

Often, the high fastball itself was like a changeup that induced the hitter’s swing.

But Lee Jungwoo didn’t care.

He was already familiar with the opponent’s fastball.

‘Simply and naturally. Don’t be greedy, just get the runner on second to score.’

Lee Jungwoo, who thought so, soon tapped the ground with the end of his bat and took his stance.

The pitcher, who had taken a deep breath several times, threw the last ball with a greedy face.

He was worried that he might walk him [issue an intentional walk].

Or that his control might not be as good this time.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

The ball, which flew properly as the pitcher intended, as it had only been to Lee Jungwoo, was a high fastball as expected.

Perhaps he had squeezed out his last bit of strength with the thought of finishing him off.

The ball that the pitcher threw with a determined face was a 96-mile fastball that didn’t suit the pitcher, who was exhausted from throwing so close to the edge until the top of the 7th inning.

The power was still good.

But as I said before. Lee Jungwoo had seen the opponent’s fastball too many times.

‘One, two….’

“Heuup-”

A simple and quick swing. Lee Jungwoo hit the ball with a swing that focused on contact as much as possible, in case he hit it wrong.

He used only its repulsive force to send it flying again.

A heavy or cool hitting sound didn’t ring out.

But a clean hitting sound rang out quickly and then disappeared.

The ball stretched out.

[Here it comes, a line drive- Ah! It fell right down!]

Because the angle was low, it was impossible to get it over the fence like in the first at-bat.

But at least the ball that easily passed the first baseman flew a little lower and then fell to the ground.

The outfielders, who were all backing away in anticipation of an extra-base hit, barely caught the ball after it fell and rolled a little after it had approached the fence.

In the meantime, Lee Jungwoo and Joey, who was the runner on second, did their part.

[Second baseman Joey Fredman scores. Lee goes to second.]

[Ah, that’s unlucky. They pulled the defensive line back in anticipation of an extra-base hit. The ball fell in a perfect spot.]

[As a result, the game score is now 3 to 1. The Braves have taken another step forward in shaking off the Dodgers’ pursuit.]

Lee Jungwoo, who was dusting off the dirt from sliding on second base, scratched his chin at the sight of the opposing pitcher’s miserable appearance.

He already looked tired.

But now he felt like someone who had burned himself out.

‘He’s burned out. He got hit by the last squeezed ball, so he must be physically and mentally exhausted. It’s about time the pitching coach comes up.’

Lee Jungwoo turned his eyes slightly and looked at the opposing bench.

He was physically exhausted and mentally damaged.

It was impossible to throw the ball any more. He would get hit every time he threw it.

Perhaps they had the same thought.

The Dodgers called a time-out, and the pitching coach quickly ran up to the mound.

It was a disappointing finish.

[The pitching coach is coming up. Aidan Styles showed a good pitch in today’s game, but haha, it wasn’t enough.]

The Dodgers’ bench immediately moved as soon as the quality start [pitching at least six innings and allowing three or fewer earned runs] was cut off in a situation where he was already exhausted.

Following the guidance of the pitching coach who came up, Aidan Styles trudged off the mound.

[Ah, Aidan Styles, who was going down, is glancing at second base. He can’t help but be angry.]

[Yes, two of the three runs that Aidan Styles recorded were hit by Lee, and he also ate up a lot of pitches. If it weren’t for Lee, the situation might have been very different now.]

Aidan Styles looked at Lee Jungwoo, the runner on second base, with eyes filled with various complex emotions.

The biggest part of his face, which showed tens of thousands of thoughts, was ‘that damn bastard.’

Aidan Styles looked at Lee Jungwoo with resentful eyes.

But since Lee Jungwoo wasn’t even looking at him, he seemed to feel sorry for himself.

He walked to the bench with a slightly lonelier step.

The showdown that began with the media’s forced storytelling and a pitcher’s ambition.

In the end, it ended with confirming the human matchup as most people had expected.