Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 187

Pitcher Done, Batter Up – 186

Lee Jung-woo quietly observed his teammates at bat. Occasionally, a pitch exceeding 100 mph would flash across the plate, but most hovered below that mark.

‘I’m getting special treatment.’

A part of him felt gratified, another part, uneasy. Either way, Kyle Callaway’s approach to Lee Jung-woo was markedly different from how he pitched to the other players.

Even when he conceded hits, he seemed to conserve his energy against other batters, holding back on his full-force pitches.

‘Considering the batting order, my turn is coming up in the 7th. And judging by his energy conservation, he’s planning to pitch at least until the 8th…’

In a way, it was a blatant disregard for the Braves’ other hitters. It implied that if he could just get Lee Jung-woo out, he believed he could handle the rest with relative ease.

Therefore, Lee Jung-woo needed to dismantle that assumption, and to do that, he needed a strategy—a way to provoke the pitch he wanted.

‘Four-seam fastball, honestly, it’s still difficult to make solid contact. The main reason is unfamiliarity. I’ve only seen six of them during today’s game.’

Two consecutive strikeouts. It was such a quick at-bat that the Athletics fans cheered, and Lee Jung-woo didn’t get to see many pitches from the pitcher while at bat.

They were all fastballs.

‘It’s hard to believe there’s no mind game involved; it feels meticulously planned. He accurately gauges the speeds I can and can’t make contact with. That suggests a plan that extends beyond just this immediate at-bat.’

Lee Jung-woo, gradually piecing together the puzzle, kept his eyes fixed on the pitcher until he finished the top of the 6th and returned to the dugout after retiring the last batter.

‘If I disrupt the plan, a weakness will emerge. Solid hits aren’t necessary; I just need to graze the ball once, just once.’

A seed of doubt and a touch of overconfidence. That was the method Lee Jung-woo identified.

‘Next inning will be the last chance.’

####

After finishing the top of the 6th and heading back to the dugout, Kyle spoke to the approaching pitching coach.

“I’ll pitch more.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been throwing with a lot of power, especially…”

Against that guy.

The pitching coach swallowed the rest of his words, but Kyle understood who he was referring to. He was the player they needed to watch out for most, and Kyle himself was focusing intently on him throughout this game.

However, Kyle Callaway shook his head. He felt fine. And, he had to admit, he didn’t trust the bullpen.

Unlike the reliable starting lineup, his bullpen teammates weren’t consistent enough to be brought in to stop ‘that guy.’ They had cost him wins earlier this season.

Slowly and evenly exhaling, he looked silently at the pitching coach, and after a moment of contemplation, the coach nodded.

“Alright, we’ve come this far; I have to trust you. Who else would I trust?”

They didn’t say it out loud, but they shared the same sentiment. Kyle and the pitching coach both knew. The reason they had managed to shut him down so far was solely due to Kyle’s efforts. No one else could accomplish it.

‘As expected, he struggled with pitches over 100 mph. It might be different the next time we meet, but after today, it’ll be three years from now or the World Series. Rather than dwelling on uncertain possibilities, it’s best to seize the game we can win now.’

He had been worried. Was he inadvertently nurturing a monster that was already formidable enough?

He could use this as a stepping stone to leap forward once again, just as he had always done. But that was a concern for the future.

It was too risky to pace himself or take it easy with such worries.

‘If I falter even slightly, I’ll get hit for sure.’

He couldn’t quite decipher what Lee Jung-woo wanted or what he was aiming for. Like looking into a mirror, he was a player who revealed nothing on his face or through his expressions, much like himself.

But he could sense that he was striving for something significant. That’s why he had chosen the best approach. And it had been effective so far.

‘We’re almost there.’

He persevered with that thought and saw results.

Thanks to his teammates’ timely scoring, the score was now 3-0. Victory was truly within reach.

‘I need to conserve my energy for other players, but I’ve saved some specifically to throw to Lee. At least one at-bat, no, two at-bats should be enough. I can manage the rest somehow.’

He was in good condition, but he had been throwing with considerable force, so he was gradually tiring, but the moment they scored, some of the fatigue dissipated.

He felt like he could pitch until the 9th inning as things stood. That’s why he chose to secure the victory himself rather than relying on the unreliable bullpen.

‘I focused on strikeouts, but I conserved a lot of pitches. If I manage it well, I can go until the 9th.’

His instinct, which had served him well thus far, was telling him. He could do it. Kyle trusted that inner voice.

And then came the top of the 7th.

After smoothing out the mound where the opposing pitcher’s footprints remained, he slowly took another breath. Moist, damp air.

It was an environment that was difficult to adjust to at first, but now he was so accustomed to it that it felt strange when it wasn’t like this.

I am the king here.

He banished even a trace of pressure with the mental conditioning he had practiced since his debut, and he watched the batter approach as the umpire signaled for play to resume.

‘Derek Hunt, today his bat speed was noticeably slower than in his prime, so I got him out easily. But from now on, it’ll be tougher.’

The Braves’ captain and the face of the team. He was quite different from how Kyle remembered him three years ago. Back then, he was a more powerful hitter.

But on the other hand, he seemed much more at ease now. Unlike back then, when he appeared to be burdened as the franchise star of a struggling prestigious team, he seemed lighter than anyone else now.

‘It would be easiest to get him out with pitches over 100 mph, but that would consume too much energy. Especially since the next batter is that guy. I need to conserve my energy as much as possible to get him out. It won’t be easy. He seemed to be easily fooled by sliders in today’s game. I need to be careful because he might have adjusted to it.’

Kyle, pushing aside the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, stared at the batter with his usual cold, detached gaze, and slowly delivered the ball as if testing the waters.

The ball sped towards the plate.

The powerful four-seam fastball, reaching 98 mph, made it difficult for the batter to swing freely, and Kyle, who secured the first strike with it, hoped things would go smoothly, but unfortunately, that was the extent of it.

‘Lillis was fast. One and two. Should I go all out now? No, I should save my energy even if I give up a hit.’

Rather than expending energy and failing to reach an effective speed when it truly mattered, and then allowing a home run to the guy behind him, it was better to concede a hit to Derek.

With that mindset, he threw a two-seam fastball. Derek made solid contact with the lightly powered, naturally tailing ball.

‘I couldn’t catch it. The positioning was a bit off.’

It looked like he could barely catch it, but the shortstop failed to make the play, and thanks to the center fielder’s quick backup, it only resulted in a single, but it was still a disappointing outcome.

Considering that the next batter was the most dangerous guy, it carried more weight than just a single.

‘Jungwoo Lee, South Korean.’

The batter approaching the plate.

He had struck out twice in today’s game, but even after those strikeouts, Kyle focused on him more intently than any other at-bat. Regardless of his immediate performance. Whenever, at any time, he was a more dangerous and destructive player than anyone else. He was an enigma.

‘I initially suspected doping. It didn’t make sense logically. But now I know for sure. He’s simply an illogical player.’

Most people remembered and discussed the last three minutes of the press conference the day before, but Kyle was more interested in the sports doctor’s data that preceded it.

It was easily accessible as it was all public information. It was also easy to be shocked by. High-quality muscles comparable to hitters who were more than 30 pounds heavier than him. And perfect punching power. From the moment he confirmed that, Kyle finalized his plan for this game.

Utilizing his greatest weapon, speed, as much as possible while Lee Jung-woo hadn’t gained much experience yet.

‘Fortunately, I’m still suppressing him, but the problem is whether he’s figured out the timing or not. If he’s even slightly familiar with the fastball timing, it’ll be difficult to prevent a home run with my stuff.’

He knew how to be objective. Perhaps like the young superstar’s first start, he had defeated Ilya Danilov in last year’s Giants game and the subsequent wild card game.

And Ilya Danilov’s fastball is much stronger, even though the speed is slower than his. He didn’t have that much vertical movement and “stuff” [a pitcher’s ability to make the ball move in deceptive ways].

So he knew well. The moment the illusion of speed vanished. His ball would feel too light to him. To maintain that illusion, he saved his energy, even at the risk of giving up a hit.

Kyle believed in his remaining strength. Even if he couldn’t pitch until the 9th as he had intended. He would get that guy out, solidify the game’s flow, and then leave the game. That was his objective.

One more deep breath. And windup. A ball with a speed that couldn’t even be compared to the previous at-bat was thrown on the outside of the strike zone, slightly low.

“Strike!”

‘101.9 mph. Not bad. Still okay.’

101 mph in the top of the 7th. No, almost 102 mph. It wasn’t just okay; it was a monstrous level, but it was literally a full-force pitch. He judged that if he could just get Lee Jung-woo out, he could somehow stop the rest, so he threw everything into that one pitch.

And even then, Kyle felt uneasy. It was a precarious tightrope walk.

In Kyle’s mind, there was a distinct line between the batter in front of him and himself. If he stayed above that line, he had a high chance of winning, but the moment he dipped even slightly below it, a big hit would be inevitable.

‘Two-seam, no… no. One more four-seam.’

This time, inside.

The batter watched the four-seam fastball flying diagonally and hitting the catcher’s mitt again. The same 101 mph.

The batter who watched it nodded. He even tapped the ground with the end of his bat once. Kyle recognized his famous routine because he was a player he had put his heart and soul into studying.

‘He’s… got a feel for it?’

An act he does when he gets a feel for the ball. His thoughts became muddled.

Has he already gotten a feel for it? Like so-called geniuses, is less experience enough for him than others? Did I inadvertently teach him something?

A million thoughts raced through his head.

Of course, just because he did the routine didn’t guarantee a hit. He had often struck out with a swing and a miss after doing it. There were also ground balls.

But the odds were high.

‘No, I have to believe.’

When he shook his head, the catcher signaled as if asking what he meant, but he shook his head again, indicating it was nothing. Then, he fiddled with the ball inside his glove.

‘Just one more needs to go in.’

Ignoring the runner on first, he wound up powerfully and threw the third pitch, hoping it would be the last ball. This time, outside again. The ball was squarely hit. But…

Tick-

Instead of the expected sound of leather, there was a weak hitting sound that seemed to have glanced off the bat slightly. The result was a foul ball. It was still a favorable count, but he looked at the scoreboard without realizing it.

‘102 mph. It’s even faster. But why?’

His thoughts were in turmoil. Perhaps, just perhaps, the anxiety that he might have seriously gotten a feel for it, not just faking it, was growing. And that soon became a certainty with the batter’s actions filling the plate.

‘If this doesn’t work… what should I throw? The two-seam… the speed has already dropped. Changeup is absolutely out of the question.’

Changeup, it was a good weapon, but it wasn’t something to throw at a batter like that. Regardless of the quick and slow rule [a general guideline in baseball pitching], he would just swing at it with unwavering timing.

Assuming the fastball was read and the changeup wasn’t an option, there was only one thing left.

‘Slider…’

60 points (Plus) based on the 20-80 scale [a common scouting scale for evaluating baseball players]. It was a good slider that received that rating, but the reason he excluded it was because he wasn’t sure he could suppress Lee Jung-woo as effectively as he could with the fastballs.

But now that uncertain option had become the only choice. It was just as uncertain to throw a fastball as he had been doing anyway. And there was one piece of information.

####

‘If he collected the data well, he’d know. I’ve never faced a similar slider in my career.’

The pitcher was using the pitch clock to its fullest. He still had an emotionless face, but for the first time, the inner turmoil was visible. Yes, he was agonizing.

Whether to take the option that came to mind now or not.

‘From here on out, it’s a gamble. If I throw one more four-seam with all my might, then it’s just a matter of luck.’

Lee Jung-woo watched the pitcher.

He had laid out all the bait he could, so all that was left was a desperate hope that he would take it.

A long sigh. One more windup. He saw 1st base runner Derek Hunt moving as if trying to disrupt the timing. The pitcher ignored it and only looked at home plate, only at Lee Jung-woo.

After winding up and throwing the ball, he felt like time had slowed down during the very short time it took for it to reach the catcher.

‘It’s coming, slider.’

That’s what Lee Jung-woo had been hoping for. That pitch that allowed him to discover his unique talent for the first time.

Kyle Callaway’s choice was the ‘vertical slider’ that had drawn sighs of frustration from Braves hitters other than Lee Jung-woo.

Looking at the ball in slow motion, he instinctively extended his bat and brought it to meet the ball. The end of the short slow motion was hitting the center of the bat, commonly called the sweet spot.

“Ah.”

A short sigh. The ball soared over the fence.

The pitcher would now realize. Regardless of the direction of rotation, the quality, Lee Jung-woo just needed a vertical movement. Whether it was a slider or a curve.

He looked up at the sky for a moment, then shook his head. An inevitable result. The home run had already been hit, and fortunately, the team was still ahead.

“Ah.”

When Lee Jung-woo passed 2nd base. He unknowingly let out a second sigh.

And his body stretched out in a terrifying way. The moment the tension broke. The forgotten fatigue washed over him.

Lee Jung-woo, watching it while running the bases, could see that he had achieved his final goal.

The Braves were still trailing by 1 point. That was no longer important. Regardless of the score, the momentum of the game had shifted to this side. The walls that had firmly protected the Athletics’ old fortress were collapsing.