Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 208

Pitcher Done, Batter Up – 207

The game itself was a one-sided affair for the Braves. Even if they managed to contain Lee Jung-woo, their pitchers were getting hammered by the other batters in succession. Yet, despite this, the Mets fans felt a sense of satisfaction, while the Braves fans, who had practically secured their victory, were anxious.

-Are the Mets crazy? What kind of game plan focuses solely on one player?

-Lee needs to get his batting sense back quickly… He seems off today.

-His swing is a bit late compared to usual. Is Lee nervous? He just needs to stay calm.

It wasn’t just the Mets’ response; by this point, even the fans vaguely understood that Lee Jung-woo was also slightly off his game. He, who had dominated the league since the opening, crushing any opponent regardless of their approach, was now listless.

Of course, given that the pitchers were consistently throwing at top speed, it wasn’t entirely surprising that Lee Jung-woo, like all batters, seemed a bit weak against fastballs.

Given the situation, it was inevitable that they would feel increasingly impatient. Lee Jung-woo, who was making the fans anxious, also reflected on his unusual game sense.

[The game is now nearing its end. The Braves have a clear advantage… but the faces of the visiting fans don’t look so bright.]

[Yes, victory is important, but they’re not seeing the scenes they want.]

Sitting on the dugout bench, Lee Jung-woo ran his bare hand over his cherished bat.

It was a product from his favorite brand, one he had been using since his transition to a batter. Its long, weighty feel was exceptional. As much as he had always felt attached to it, it now felt heavy.

‘No, it’s not the bat that’s heavy, it’s my body that’s off.’

Lee Jung-woo chuckled. He had gone back in time thanks to regression [time travel], and he thought he was mature for his age, but a bit of greed for records and its side effects were something he couldn’t avoid.

‘Well, it would be weirder if a professional player was indifferent to records. At least my body isn’t stiffening up when I’m fielding.’

Now that he knew the reason, he had to fix the problem. But there wasn’t enough time, and there wasn’t a clear solution. All that was left was to do his best. The only fortunate thing was that today wasn’t the absolute last chance. There were still games tomorrow and the day after.

At the very least, even if he ended up listless, there would be something to gain. Lee Jung-woo refocused, and soon, in the top of the 8th, his fifth at-bat, which would be his last of the day, arrived.

“Knock one out of the park.”

“You’ve been building up energy all day, you need to unleash it properly, right?”

As he walked from the on-deck circle [the area where the next batter warms up] to the plate, the other players saw him off as usual, as if they weren’t conscious of the records.

And Lee Jung-woo was quite pleased with that consideration. He didn’t know if they were doing it on purpose, but it somehow made him feel more at ease.

‘Yeah, let’s just think of it as one of those days when my hands don’t feel good. That’s when a home run usually comes.’

Lee Jung-woo smiled, and some of the players who had been watching him also smiled with satisfaction. Derek, who had returned to the dugout after recording a disappointing ground ball, also nodded.

“I need to get your RBIs [Runs Batted In] up a bit more. You’re okay even without runners on base, right?”

“As for RBIs, I’ve already piled up enough for other players to get in a whole season. I’ll just add one more and come back.”

After exchanging a playful high-five with Derek, Lee Jung-woo went up to the plate as if passing the baton, and soon scanned the Mets’ bench.

‘No pitcher change. That’s a relief.’

Except for the starting pitcher, the other two at-bats had resulted in a pitcher change as soon as he stepped up to the plate. It was like a one-point relief, something you’d only see in baseball from the 90s or early 2000s, before he was even born. But it was sealed for now. The pitcher hadn’t faced three batters yet. According to the rules, the pitcher remained for this at-bat.

‘Even if they could change him, they probably wouldn’t, since the loss is practically confirmed. They need to avoid unnecessary bullpen consumption. Still, it’s a relief.’

Lee Jung-woo had been facing pitchers throwing their best all game, so he was glad for the current situation. But as soon as he stepped into the batter’s box, he frowned slightly.

‘Did I really make myself that hated?’

The catcher was chattering away as soon as he stepped up to the plate. The catcher kept jabbering on and on, even making the umpire frown, but he didn’t care. Perhaps it was his experience, but he only spouted vague, ambiguous words, refraining from outright insults, so the umpire, seeing it as part of the game, didn’t stop him, making him even more emboldened.

‘Don’t get drawn in. Just do what I always do. Let it go in one ear and out the other.’

In fact, there had been many catchers who had acted like that in previous games, but today, perhaps because of his different mindset, he was a bit more shaken.

“How about it? I’ll tell him to throw you a nice curveball…”

Lee Jung-woo, who had momentarily lost focus due to the catcher’s whispers tickling his ear, tried to ignore him and focus only on the pitcher, but soon changed his mind.

‘Come to think of it, I haven’t always just ignored them, have I?’

Trying to ignore him like this was just playing into the catcher’s hands. It meant he was paying attention after all.

Realizing that, Lee Jung-woo chuckled, stepped out of the batter’s box, pretended to take a practice swing, looked down at the catcher, and opened his mouth.

“Doesn’t your mouth hurt?”

“Why? Annoyed? I’m saying it with good intentions. Don’t take it so harshly-”

“No, it’s just funny. You’re getting hammered because of your poor pitching calls, and you’re trying to scratch my nerves by trash-talking. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

For a moment, the catcher seemed to be hit where it hurt, and closed his mouth for the first time. It wasn’t a lie that the team itself was collapsing, even though they were only containing Lee Jung-woo.

Naturally, in that situation, the responsibility of the catcher, who could be said to be the commander on the field, was great. His job was to manage all the pitchers to face all the opponent’s batters, but he was only focusing on one player. It was a kind of dereliction of duty.

“Don’t tell me you’re rationalizing? You’re not thinking that you’ve done your part just because you stopped me, even if the pitchers are getting destroyed, right? You’re supposed to be a catcher.”

Whether he actually thought that way, or whether he was just embarrassed to be hearing these words from a much younger player, the catcher kept his mouth shut. Lee Jung-woo stepped back into the batter’s box.

The umpire glanced back and forth between Lee Jung-woo and the catcher, as the words were quite pointed.

‘I’ve let the catcher do as he pleased until now. There’s no reason for him to say anything to me now.’

He had landed a solid KO [knockout] punch on the catcher’s chest, and now that he had shut his mouth, the real game was about to begin.

‘One strike. It’s still okay.’

Satisfied with the now quiet home plate, Lee Jung-woo stared intently at the pitcher. He had given up a free count, but it wasn’t bad. And then the battle continued. Lee Jung-woo flinched slightly at the fastball coming deep inside, but didn’t swing.

“Ball.”

The umpire’s call for the ball that went straight into the catcher’s mitt. The catcher grumbled for no reason. But for Lee Jung-woo, it didn’t matter whether the ball was a strike or a ball.

‘I’m definitely a bit stiff. I was going to swing right away, but my body couldn’t keep up.’

He was going to swing because he thought it looked good, but his body stiffened up against the fastball.

‘98 miles per hour. As expected, he’s throwing with all his might. But it’s manageable enough. But why?’

He could understand if it was 100 miles per hour. His body would naturally stiffen up at that speed. But even with a difference of only 2 miles per hour, he could hit up to 98 miles per hour with his bat speed. But now he was a bit late.

‘Let’s watch a little more.’

Lee Jung-woo, trying to suppress his anxiety, immediately swung at the ball thrown by the pitcher. This time, he also threw a fastball with all his might.

There was no sound of the bat hitting the ball.

[A swing and a miss! The bat was a little late.]

[Ah… that’s a bit strange. If you look at the data, he would have been able to keep up normally. But today, he’s strangely a little late.]

[It’s clear that Lee is not in normal condition today.]

‘Still late. My swing was late.’

A slight, very slight delay in his swing. It was a subtle difference, but that difference made the results, and Lee Jung-woo, who had tasted disappointing results throughout this game, narrowed his brow slightly.

He had already realized that his body was stiff and his swing was late in his fourth at-bat, but there was no good way to fix it. So he thought that if he just felt comfortable, his body would loosen up. But it didn’t seem to be the case.

‘Thanks to the catcher (?), my mind is back to normal. But my body is still the same. Unlike my returned mind, my body has adapted to the stiff state.’

It’s a common occurrence. The body is more flexible than you think, and it adapts to new things on its own. A prime example is the Home Run Derby jinx [a phenomenon where players who participate in the Home Run Derby before the All-Star game perform worse in the second half of the season]. The swing, which had been done hundreds, thousands of times, was so flexible and sensitive that it could be twisted just because the swing form had changed for a few at-bats.

‘Then it’s hard to fix it right now. So I have to find a way to deal with the current situation… It would be nice if he threw me a breaking ball. But because of the catcher, he’ll probably just throw fastballs as quickly as possible. Like the other pitchers did. He’s definitely experienced. He’s figured it out properly.’

He had been chattering away today, but the Mets’ catcher was definitely a veteran player. He had faced countless batters, and he knew exactly what the problem was with the batter standing right next to him. Otherwise, no matter what the bench ordered, all the pitchers would have thrown him only fastballs.

‘This is difficult.’

His mind was getting complicated. He forcibly shook off his 잡념 [japnyum – distracting thoughts], but a sense of regret began to creep into one corner of his mind. And on the third pitch. This time, it was a fastball. But it was a two-seamer [a type of fastball with slight horizontal movement].

“Hmph-”

A moment of breathlessness. And a swing. The sound of the bat hitting the ball rang out, but the result was a foul. The home crowd momentarily gasped at the fairly long-distance foul, but Lee Jung-woo’s expression remained stiff.

‘This time, my swing was a little late again. That’s why the accuracy was poor. The only good thing is that my power is still there.’

Lee Jung-woo, who was slightly biting the flesh inside his mouth, soon stepped out of the batter’s box. Perhaps damaged by the previous foul, there was a slight crack [in the bat].

Lee Jung-woo, who went to the dugout to change his bat, was soon handed the bat he always used. But suddenly, one thought flashed through his mind.

‘Come to think of it, there was also a saying that since I changed my batting form, it would be better to change my bat to a shorter, lighter one for bat speed.’

It was an argument that so-called experts who thoroughly dissected and critiqued Lee Jung-woo occasionally made. It seemed right, but considering the timing, it was absurd.

He was getting good results with the changed batting mechanics, so those words only came out then.

Suddenly abandoning the familiar bat that he had been using well until now and switching to an awkward new bat in the middle of the season was no different from being foolish for a professional player who was already sensitive. And Lee Jung-woo hadn’t thought about getting rid of this familiar feeling.

But now, that ridiculous sound suddenly sounded a little tempting.

‘Am I too nervous? Am I too regretful? Is that why I’m being fooled by nonsense? Because I’m mentally cornered.’

Lee Jung-woo observed himself. Am I normal right now? Then is this thought also within the normal range? There was no answer.

‘But one thing is certain. It’s better to do something than to sit still and be helpless.’

What he lacks now is bat speed. As I said, his power is still there. Just looking at the foul, even though the bat was slightly cracked, the batted ball itself flew deep into the outfield.

Instead of grabbing a new bat, Lee Jung-woo put it back down and turned his gaze to Rollins. He was the player who used the lightest bat on the team.

“Rollins.”

“Oh, why?”

“Do you have any spare bats?”

“Huh? My bat? Of course, I have a few left, but why? Don’t tell me… Lee, are you crazy?”

At Lee Jung-woo’s words, Rollins, the person in question, and the players around him buzzed. It seemed as if he had lost his judgment due to the pressure of the record.

“My swing is a bit late, so I need something light. Rollins’ bat is also a Wilson, right?”

“That’s right… But even so, suddenly a light bat-”

“Then that’s fine. I’ll ask you for just one.”

“Lee, aren’t you too excited right now?”

“Yeah, no matter how urgent you are. How can you think about abandoning your first love?”

“You have to do something more skillful in situations like this.”

“I’m perfectly fine, so don’t worry.”

Lee Jung-woo, who had brushed aside the concerns of those around him, soon snatched the bat from Rollins, almost stealing it. He went back to the batter’s box, and the surrounding crowd, beyond the dugout, buzzed a little. The length of the bat was clearly shorter than before.

“Is that young punk already trying to be clever?”

“This time, it’s an outside swing!”

“If you’re so desperate, why don’t you just bring a spatula?”

He didn’t care about the sarcastic remarks. Lee Jung-woo felt the touch of the lighter bat and swung it around with each step as he returned to the batter’s box to get used to it as much as possible.

‘The power is enough. It’s definitely a bit short, but if the swing speed is right, I can still scoop it up even if it hits the end.’

For Lee Jung-woo, who used a 42-inch long bat weighing 39 ounces (1,105 grams), which was exactly on the 규정 [gyujeong – regulations], the current bat felt similar to when he used a practice bat instead of a real bat.

He was more satisfied than he thought, so Lee Jung-woo, who had returned with satisfaction, responded to the catcher’s gaze, which seemed to be mocking him, with a snort, and took his stance again.

‘Since the length is shorter, he’ll probably try to compete on the outside. But he’s not a very good pitcher. Just one, even if it’s just barely touching, I’ll definitely hit it.’

Staring at the pitcher with a determined will, the pitcher’s brow furrowed slightly. A brief confrontation. The battery [pitcher and catcher] exchanged opinions for a long time, unlike before. Everyone could tell. It was just a matter of changing one bat. The 판 [pan – situation] had changed.

‘The catcher’s plan so far has disappeared. My bat speed is faster now. He’ll have to choose. Whether to switch to a breaking ball now. Or to trust the information he got from this game and continue to focus on fastballs.’

The fourth ball contained traces of such 고민 [gomin – worries]. Lee Jung-woo watched the low changeup [a slow pitch] quietly and calmly. The count was two and two. He knew. The time for decision had come. Lee Jung-woo looked at the pitcher, the pitcher took a long breath. He wound up greatly.

Lee Jung-woo clearly watched the ball thrown from the left-handed, three-quarter form, focusing only on the pitch because there were no runners, and stretched out.

‘It’s here.’

The opponent’s choice was once again a fastball. And a four-seamer [a type of fastball with backspin]. It seemed like he intended to crossfire [throw a pitch across the batter’s body], low on the outside, but the ball, which did not have that much destructive power and accuracy, and whose course could be called a ball depending on the umpire’s discretion, flew in. It might be difficult for some batters, but Lee Jung-woo thought.

‘Just right.’

The bat hits the ball as it is. Unlike before, an accurate feeling came up 짜르르 [jjareureu – a tingling sensation]. It was properly contacted, and the swing was not late. In a situation where those things were completed.

[He hit it!]

Power was needless to say.

The unique swing that stretched straight in a straight line as the last 확실하게 [hwaksilhage – certainly] follow-through was completed. And with that, the long, long battle.

‘Now there’s only one left.’

[It’s over! Season’s 29th home run! Top of the 8th! In a one-out situation! Lee hits a solo home run!]

The pitcher who dropped his head, the catcher who 괜히 [gwaenhi – pointlessly] stirred up the home plate, the frustrated home crowd, the joy of the visiting fans who had come quite a lot, and the batted ball that went over the fence brought the curtain down.