Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 185

Pitcher Done, Batter Up -184

[The first game of the interleague matchup between the Braves and the Athletics is finally starting. With the Braves using a six-man rotation, Harry Stewart, their sixth starter, is set to face off against Kyle Callaway, the Athletics’ ace.]

[While the Athletics are generally considered a weaker team than the Braves, they have a slight advantage in today’s game due to their superior starting pitcher.]

The broadcast began with a brief game preview, and the players, having completed their warm-ups, prepared for the game’s start. As the commentator pointed out, despite the difference in team strength, the Athletics were favored to win because of their ace pitcher.

Harry Stewart had been a serviceable addition to the starting rotation, posting respectable stats for a sixth starter. However, he inevitably paled in comparison to a team’s ace, especially one who truly lived up to the title.

‘Kyle Callaway is a tough customer. No mind games or psychological ploys. He just throws…’

The Athletics, like the Braves, boasted an excellent overall defense, but Kyle Callaway was a player who excelled regardless of that support.

It was even said, perhaps with some exaggeration, that his starts attracted over 10,000 of the average attendance of just under 20,000, making him a beloved figure in Oakland.

‘His velocity is insane. He can easily strike out most batters with his fastball alone.’

A fastball pitcher with a top speed of 105 mph and an average of 99 mph—a light-speed pitcher. While his movement wasn’t exceptional, he had league-average spin on his fastball, a two-seamer that was 3 mph slower but still incredibly fast, and a plus-grade (60) high-speed slider with a unique trajectory, topping out at 90 mph, along with an occasional, decent changeup.

His raw talent was overwhelming, but like Lee Jungwoo, or even more so, he was often called a robot due to his lack of facial expressions and emotional reactions, making him impervious to mind games and psychological tactics.

‘An honest yet devastating pitcher. A very tricky type.’

The scouting reports were filled with praise, but even so, Lee Jungwoo didn’t see him as unbeatable. He wasn’t a god, after all, and had weaknesses.

‘His aggressive pitching means he’s prone to giving up occasional home runs. His movement isn’t good enough to prevent them. But on his good days, he’s a monster, like anyone else.’

A monster-like velocity with both his fastball and two-seamer exceeding 100 mph. Lee Jungwoo had a bat speed that was recognized in the league and possessed enough power to hit a surprise home run, but he knew this would be a difficult matchup.

Nevertheless, Lee Jungwoo wasn’t completely intimidated. The two fastballs with overwhelming velocity were a challenge, but there was one exploitable aspect—a very clear one.

‘I’ll get a feel for the fastball when I see it from the plate.’

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A sound like leather ripping.

The batter could only chuckle in disbelief as the ball flashed by in the blink of an eye, followed by a resounding thud.

[104 mph, truly… an amazing velocity every time I see it.]

The announcer stammered at the incredible speed, and the spectators abandoned their listless expressions, their eyes now filled with the same fiery passion as everyone else.

104 mph (167.3 km/h), an overwhelming fastball that far exceeded the magical 100 mph mark, jolted people awake like the sound of a temple bell clearing away distracting thoughts [잡념 – japnyem, a Korean term for distracting thoughts or worldly concerns].

“I come to the stadium because of you!”

“104 mph? Add another mile! Let’s go, coolly!”

“Lee? That brat? We don’t need him! Big Mac [likely referring to a player known for home runs]? Screw that! We only need you, Kyle!”

Lee Jungwoo felt strangely deflated by the sight of people who had been looking at him with such intense eyes just moments ago now shouting such things.

‘I was nervous for nothing. This is just a normal baseball stadium after all.’

Lee Jungwoo shook his head in the on-deck circle, feeling embarrassed by his goosebumps, and reminded himself that this scene was similar to the home fans of countless other teams.

Kyle Callaway, having clearly heard the loud and enthusiastic voices of the crowd, threw the ball as if to control them, though it may not have been intentional.

‘104 mph. 104 mph. He’s not even trying to conserve energy.’

The second and third pitches, thrown in quick succession, teased those who were shouting for 105 mph, narrowly missing that top speed. However, they were both clocked at 104 mph, proving that he was throwing with everything he had, and leadoff hitter Derek was quickly in a 1-2 count without even being able to swing.

[Ah- Derek Hunt is quickly in a tough spot.]

[He’s a pitcher who throws with a quick tempo as well as a fast ball, so before you know it, the count is against you. He’s a pitcher you can’t take your eyes off for even a moment.]

A count created by instinct, throwing the ball effortlessly. Derek called a quick timeout, stepped out of the batter’s box, took a few practice swings, and then shortened his grip on the bat.

He was sacrificing power, intending to just make contact with the ball somehow, even if it meant becoming a slap hitter. His determination to chase after such a pitch was admirable, but the result wasn’t good. From the on-deck circle, Lee Jungwoo watched the swing pass by the ball, seemingly long after it had already gone by.

“Strike out!”

‘105 mph. He actually hit it.’

105 mph (168.9 km/h). Cheers erupted once again from all over the stadium at the top speed, confirming that he was the fastest pitcher in the major leagues. Although there were fewer spectators compared to the often-packed Truist Park, the noise level at this moment was definitely comparable.

“Good! Ver~y Good!”

“Of course it’s a strikeout! Why are you acting disappointed? Did you really think you could get a hit off Kyle in your first at-bat?”

After being heckled by the crowd, Lee Jungwoo asked Derek as he walked away from the plate.

“How is it?”

“I regret being old. If I were younger, I feel like I could do something.”

It was an unexpected remark, but Lee Jungwoo understood the underlying meaning. Simply put, his bat speed, which had slowed down a bit from his prime, couldn’t keep up.

This was the first time Derek had spoken so resignedly, so Lee Jungwoo tightened his grip and walked towards the batter’s box.

“You’re that guy, right? From the press conference. I watched it yesterday, you’re a good actor. You seemed so genuine. I was honestly impressed. It’s a waste of talent. Why don’t you quit baseball and go to Hollywood?”

“You should retire and become a commentator if you’re just going to keep running your mouth.”

“Hey, don’t be so harsh. I was just joking.”

As soon as Lee Jungwoo stepped in, the catcher started trash-talking in a subtle way.

Unlike the pitcher, who seemed very stoic and actually was, the catcher was a talkative type, chattering away, which was common among catchers. Unfortunately, that was the end of the catcher’s talk. Perhaps he thought his remarks had crossed the line, as the umpire immediately shut him down.

The catcher then smiled slyly and shut his mouth. Lee Jungwoo chuckled at the catcher’s antics, and the catcher, taking it as mockery, glared at him with a face devoid of amusement. But Lee Jungwoo just looked straight ahead.

‘Watch as much as possible. Get a feel for it. Then find the timing.’

Naturally, seeing it from the on-deck circle and facing it directly at the plate were different, so Lee Jungwoo deliberately cleared his mind of what he had just seen. If it were an ordinary ball, he wouldn’t bother, but with a crazy fastball that reached 105 mph, he didn’t want to get used to a timing that he wasn’t even sure about.

‘Four fastballs in a row so far. Is he going to throw the same thing again?’

Lee Jungwoo looked up at the mound as if questioning the pitcher, and the 6.6 ft (201 cm) tall right-handed pitcher simply blinked at Lee Jungwoo. Then, in a sudden burst, the first pitch came. Having heard the sound from a distance just moments ago, Lee Jungwoo, now hearing it right next to him, suppressed a groan.

‘A cannon, it’s a complete cannon.’

If the sound heard from the on-deck circle was like leather tearing, the sound of the catch heard directly next to him exuded a power that seemed to shatter not only the leather but also the catcher’s gloved hand.

‘And yet it’s 104 mph. Not even his top speed. Crazy, crazy. 1 more mph on top of that? Does it even matter? I can’t even see it anymore? And his deception is good too. Maybe it’s because he’s tall, but his release point is quite far forward. It’s already a fast ball, but it feels even faster. I guess it’s a relief he’s not a lefty? They say his movement is average, but I need to see it to feel anything.’

Lee Jungwoo tried his best to see it, but he only observed a white blur, or rather, just the tail of the blur. After considering all sorts of things, he made an immediate decision.

‘The fastball is unconfirmable. At least, I can’t rely on my eyes for the fastball.’

He had made considerable progress in his eye-hand coordination through numerous practical experiences and batting form adjustments, but this seemed impossible to see unless his eyesight was at the level of an eagle—to exaggerate a bit.

‘In the end, it’s all about timing, but all fastballs are hit with timing. There’s nothing special about it. The strategy is always the same.’

No matter how great a player’s eye-hand coordination is, it’s impossible to hit a fastball by simply seeing it. If someone’s eyesight is truly at the level of an eagle, they might be able to see it somehow, but their body can’t keep up with that kind of vision.

‘Let’s slowly find the timing. Fortunately, his control is a bit rough, so there might be more opportunities than I thought.’

Thinking that way, Lee Jungwoo gripped the bat loosely and instead tried to feel each ball he threw as if he were the pitcher himself.

‘One, two-’

“Strike!”

Hearing the leather sound again, Lee Jungwoo, who was trying to find the timing, counted in his head but only managed to confirm the approximate location of the ball by looking at the catcher’s glove after it had passed by in an instant.

‘One and a half, or a little faster than that.’

But he had a rough idea of the timing. He had counted, after all, even though it was cut short before he could even finish two. He could feel the approximate speed.

‘But the problem is that he’s a four-pitch pitcher… Looking at his pitch selection, he throws whatever he wants, so it’s hard to even predict.’

The more he analyzed it, the more difficult the pitcher became. Perhaps he was a prime example of how someone could succeed if their skills were overwhelming, even if they threw instinctively without calculation.

If he geared up for the fastball, the four-seamer, he definitely wouldn’t be able to hit the other pitches. That was true for other pitchers as well, but because his velocity was so high, if he timed his swing for the four-seamer, it would be impossible to hit anything else. The ball would arrive much later.

‘The four-seamer is hopeless…’

Lee Jungwoo looked up at the pitcher, pursed his lips with a stoic expression, and waited for the next pitch with a calm mind, giving up on his initial plan.

And as if on cue, the third ball came flying.

Lee Jungwoo swung smoothly along with the straight ball but got the same result as Derek, the leadoff hitter. Although the pitch was different.

“Strike out!”

“Haha! What’s the point of not taking drugs! You can’t even touch Kyle!”

The crowd hurled the same mocking words again. Lee Jungwoo, having retrieved the bat he had swung, looked at the pitcher for a moment.

‘Two-seamer, as I heard, the quality of the pitch itself isn’t that great, but the velocity is filthy. 102 mph, 7 mph faster than me based on my pre-injury speed.’

A swinging strikeout.

It was a very disappointing result, but it was only his first at-bat.

‘It’s a shame I didn’t see the changeup, but the usage rate itself is low, so I guess there’s nothing I can do.’

Lee Jungwoo looked at the pitcher for a moment.

A face that didn’t show any emotion.

What is he thinking inside?

After observing for a moment, Lee Jungwoo stepped away from the plate without regret.

Because there was always a backup plan.

‘In the end, is the slider the answer? Well, rather than making things complicated, I should just do what I do best. Let’s look forward to the next one.’

Slider. The key pitch Lee Jungwoo had identified for this game was the slider. It was the easiest pitch for Lee Jungwoo to hit among the pitches thrown by the opposing pitcher, even if that wasn’t the case for other hitters.