Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 273

End of Pitching, Beginning of Hitting – Episode 272 (273/287)

The atmosphere in Atlanta, as they welcomed the Dodgers, was just as intense as it had been in San Francisco, the site of their heated rivalry last time.

While the sense of finality might have been slightly less pronounced compared to a potential last game, the desperation was certainly equal.

“This is revenge for last year!”

“Those bastards can’t win the championship anyway, so let’s just crush them!”

“We can’t let those who disgrace the National League even challenge for the World Series!”

Slogans targeting the Dodgers, who had lost in the previous year’s World Series, echoed loudly around the stadium. Some Dodgers fans who had traveled for the away game frowned, but no one seemed to care about their feelings.

Unlike the Braves fans, who were brimming with fighting spirit, the Dodgers fans held somewhat mixed feelings toward the Braves.

“Thanks for taking care of the Giants! Now just quietly pass the baton!”

“You guys are only good for the division series anyway, right? We’ll let you win two games at home this time, so just do as you did last year!”

They were grateful to the Braves for eliminating their arch-rivals, the San Francisco Giants, from the postseason for two consecutive years, and for handing them the World Series ticket the previous year.

That was essentially the Dodgers’ perception of the Braves.

So, compared to the passionate home fans, the visiting fans, though fewer in number, weren’t quite as emotionally invested.

However, the fact that they had traveled all the way to this distant location, practically the opposite side of the country, meant they were dedicated fans, and they made remarks that could be construed as offensive to the Braves.

The Braves uniforms surrounding them didn’t seem to react at all, and their calm demeanor only fueled the home fans’ anger.

“You’d think they were the overwhelming favorites, and we’re the underdogs.”

“It’s a relationship built on past debts. We just have to grit our teeth a little harder.”

Experts predicted that the Braves were the clear frontrunners, but the fans seemed to have flipped that narrative, causing the Braves players to shake their heads in amusement.

Amidst this charged atmosphere, the game preparations continued. Lee Jung-woo, who was scanning the stadium as usual and waving to the cheering fans, glanced at the opposing team’s bench before heading back to the dugout.

‘The starting pitcher is probably Aidan Styles. Unlike last year, he’s added a changeup to his arsenal this year.’

Aidan Styles. A pitcher who had evolved from a promising prospect with high expectations to a confident, top-tier starter.

His improved skills, highlighted by the successful addition of a changeup to his fastball and curveball, were reflected in his status as a leading candidate for the Cy Young Award this season, alongside Mason Looper and Ilya Danilov.

‘It seems too early for him to have added a sinker, as I recall, but this alone is impressive.’

‘His changeup is rated around 50 on the 20-80 scouting scale [a common baseball scouting scale where 50 is considered average]. Its usage rate is around 10%, not particularly high, but enough to disrupt timing.’

A score of 50 meant that several scouts and experts considered his changeup to be league average.

Even if the changeup itself wasn’t exceptional, its combination with a decent fastball that clocked in at 98 mph and a Plus-Plus (70 grade) curveball was a formidable combination.

So, even setting aside the symbolic comparisons to Kershaw or Koufax within the Dodgers organization, he was considered a special pitcher who demanded respect.

‘But that doesn’t really apply to me because he’s essentially a two-pitch pitcher against me. I can’t hit a curveball anyway. So, my thinking becomes simpler. Fastball or changeup.’

It was an irrelevant assessment for him.

Because hitting the curveball was essentially off the table. So, even if the changeup was excellent, its effectiveness was diminished.

The changeup is a pitch that tends to be more effective when a pitcher has multiple options, but in his at-bat, he was essentially facing two pitches.

‘There are many reports that it’s good for disrupting timing, but that ultimately means the changeup itself isn’t that great.’

Lee Jung-woo, who had been observing the pitcher for a while, walked back to the dugout.

‘So, the changeup is okay. The fastball is fast, but the rest is mediocre. The only thing left is whether the opponent has a hidden weapon or not. But even if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter.’

Now that he had finished observing the opponent, all that was left was to prepare to the best of his ability and execute his plan in the game.

####

Aidan Styles shook the water from his hair. He usually splashed cold water on his face right before taking the mound to invigorate himself, so his face was still wet.

‘Hoo…’

But even so, his heart wasn’t calm. It wasn’t excitement or anticipation he felt.

Tension, pressure. Something like that filled his heart.

‘Chicken-hearted… Am I chicken-hearted?’

The fans who loved him so much, who believed without a doubt that he would become like the legendary aces who had once represented the Dodgers, looked at him with such high expectations.

He wanted to deny it, wanted to shout that it was nonsense, but his past postseason performances were enough to silence any such protest.

The postseason, which he reached after winning the Rookie of the Year award in his first full season two years ago, had been disastrous.

He started in the fourth game of the Division Series and lasted only 4.1 innings, giving up 5 runs and contributing to the Dodgers’ elimination.

Last year’s postseason was also underwhelming. He pitched well in the Division Series, with 7.2 innings of shutout ball, but…

In the following Championship Series, he was thoroughly dominated by Lee in the first game and failed to complete 5 innings, and his second appearance barely salvaged his reputation with a quality start [a start of at least 6 innings pitched with no more than 3 earned runs allowed].

The World Series, which he reached after that, ended with a somewhat ambiguous record of 5 innings and 3 runs.

Even this year, when he was considered a true ace, he ruined the first game of the postseason and almost pushed the team to the brink of elimination again.

It was a truly terrible record. His ERA [Earned Run Average, a measure of runs allowed per nine innings] was in the high 5s, almost double his regular season ERA.

He couldn’t understand it. Why was this happening? Was he really a “chicken,” as the haters claimed? Did he only become timid in the postseason?

He even doubted himself. He had heard countless times from coaches since he first started playing baseball that there was no more foolish thing for a pitcher to do than doubt himself, but he couldn’t shake the thought.

‘I have to prove it’s not true. I’m… I’m not that kind of guy.’

But he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he opened his heart and stepped forward confidently. Everything had to be proven by himself, and a player’s value was measured by that proof.

He had gone through countless trials so far and had been constantly increasing his own value, so it should be relatively easy.

‘Jungwoo Lee… I’m facing him again. And again in the Championship Series.’

The opponent was formidable.

He was meeting his worst matchup at a crucial time when he needed to prove himself. But that’s why he was also glad.

The player with the worst possible compatibility. The player who some said was mechanically incompatible with him as a pitcher.

The worst news for a pitcher named Aidan Styles was that he played in the same league as such a batter, and the most fortunate thing was that they weren’t in the same division—a joke that was often repeated.

‘I will defeat you and lead the team to victory.’

If he could defeat even such a player and confidently advance to the World Series, there would be no better proof than that, so he instilled confidence in himself.

[The game is finally starting. NLCS [National League Championship Series] Game 1 between the Atlanta Braves and the Los Angeles Dodgers!]

[It’s quite an interesting matchup, isn’t it? Aside from the past storylines. There are players competing for the Cy Young and MVP awards on each team.]

[Of course, postseason performance isn’t factored into the awards selection. But it’s interesting because it’s a game between candidates.]

The game soon began.

On the TV screen in the bullpen, the Dodgers’ batters were struggling. The opposing team’s ace, Mason Looper, was throwing pitches at a level reminiscent of his prime, as if to show that his slight slump in the second half was just for show, and he was dominating the batters.

Even Arthur Hunter managed only a weakly hit ground ball to the infield, barely making contact with his unique modified fastball.

‘Centrifugal force… Lee told me about it? The execution is impressive. If I could add one more of those… No, what I have now is enough. I have another trick up my sleeve.’

It was such a powerful pitch that he was tempted, but he shook his head and cleared his mind as the inning ended quickly, and he walked out of the bullpen.

Tens of thousands of eyes were on him.

“Hey, chicken-hearted! Give Lee another home run today!”

“You’re really bad! What are you going to do if you resemble Kershaw in that aspect too?”

“You’re just a minor copy of Kershaw. You’re worse than Kershaw in the regular season, and even worse in the postseason, aren’t you?”

Mockery echoed from all over the stadium, as if trying to intimidate the visiting team’s pitcher.

They were mainly criticizing his postseason performance, but Aidan Styles silently walked to the mound, having heard those words countless times before.

“How’s your body feeling?”

“Perfect. I couldn’t feel better.”

“Hoo, you’re confident? Good, then it’s easy for me. Let’s try to win the Championship Series MVP this time.”

The approaching catcher smiled at his words, cracked a joke as if trying to relieve the tension, and nodded before heading down to home plate.

One practice pitch at a time. He checked his body one last time, giving it his all, and suddenly felt a gaze from the side.

‘Lee.’

Jungwoo Lee. That guy was watching him from the on-deck circle. He heard he used to be a pitcher, so could he figure things out just by watching him throw for a moment?

Such comments often arose because of his extraordinary level of play. It was probably not entirely untrue.

He’s a scary guy. If you’re someone with a weak mentality, he’s a batter who is no different from a source of terror to a pitcher, to the point where your legs tremble just by facing him.

‘Today will be different. It will be different in the future too.’

But he didn’t back down and looked straight into his eyes, and the two people who glared at each other for a moment finished their preparations.

“Play ball!”

After all preparations were completed, the game started again. The batter, who slowly approached the plate, slightly lowered his body to shrink the strike zone.

It’s a subtle action, but it’s one that puts psychological pressure on the pitcher, but he simply threw the ball.

“Strike!”

A resounding strike call.

The batter slightly frowned, as if the narrowed strike zone was meaningless, because the pitch was honestly jammed inside without any finesse.

He seemed to be trying to figure out the intention, but Aidan Styles didn’t give the batter time to think.

98 mph. 97 mph. And a curveball. As the curveball that dropped sharply following the 최고구속 [highest velocity] fastball and the 포심 [four-seam fastball] close to it came in, the batter helplessly swung and missed. Aidan Styles, who easily retired the first batter, smacked his lips.

‘I have a good feeling. It’s not at the level of being 긁히는 [on a roll], but it’s 박히는 [landing] well as intended.’

His confidence was growing even more than before. He had a feeling that today might be the day he could erase his lackluster postseason record.

‘Lee, if I can just get past this guy. Just this guy.’

But as if mocking that confidence, the batter, who filled the plate as indifferently as usual, had eyes as firm as his sturdy body.

His stoic expression, as if he didn’t give a X about what you were thinking, was a weapon in itself that threatened the pitcher. Aidan Styles swallowed hard without realizing it. But he soon came to his senses by biting the inside of his cheek tightly.

‘What are you going to do if you’re already scared from the first at-bat? You have to face him at least four more times. You have to seize the momentum first.’

He forced himself to open his eyes wide, scolding himself, but unlike the previous at-bat, he kept fiddling with the ball, and the catcher hesitated to signal, as if there was no clear intention either.

The time for selection was approaching, and he was even momentarily annoyed by the 피치클락 [pitch clock] that was decreasing little by little and Lee Jung-woo’s home plate presence that was inversely proportional to it.

‘I’ll throw the best. The best ball I can throw.’

There’s nothing special anyway. Other than just doing his best and pitching with all his might. But sometimes such a 정공법 [straightforward approach] breaks rocks, so he grabbed the ball as if he would explode it and slowly took his stance. He sent the ball, which felt full in his hand as big as a 솥뚜껑 [pot lid], forward.

The long and firm fingers gripped the ball until the end, adding even the last drop of power as if squeezing a dry rag. The ball, which went out like it had a thruster, went into the catcher’s mitt.

“Strike!”

One strike. The batter slightly extended his bat and waited until the last moment, but the strike was called anyway because the pitch was in the zone.

’98 mph. Let’s just keep going like this.’

He had a good feeling. A good ball came out easily, and a pleasant sensation swirled in his hand.

He desperately held onto the 손맛 [feel of the ball] like a lifeline, afraid of losing it, and threw the ball again.

“Strike!”

This time too, it was a strike.

The batter didn’t even extend his bat, and his expression was still the same even though he was 몰렸 [backed into a corner] to two strikes in an instant. His head was a little complicated by that.

‘Should I keep going like this? Or a changeup? If I throw three 포심 [four-seam fastballs] in a row, won’t he anticipate the timing? But the changeup is a little dangerous. He’s like a ghost at catching the timing, so can I really shake him?’

All sorts of assumptions arose in his head. The chest, which had been 답답했던 [stuffy] since before the game, was now constricted to the point where he could feel his heartbeat.

Around the time when he started to feel breathless from that, the catcher gave a firm signal for the first time.

‘But…’

But even after seeing that, he hesitated. Should I follow that? Will it really work? He continued to 번뇌 [agonize], but soon he could understand the catcher’s intention.

‘Ah…’

Be confident.

He could feel that thought in the repeated signal and the eyes looking at him. He bit his lip. He said he would prove that he wasn’t chicken-hearted, but what was he doing now? Wasn’t this the real chicken? He’s just 망상하는 [deluding himself] and shrinking back in fear.

‘Let’s go.’

This won’t do.

Sometimes it’s not bad to empty your head and just become a gorilla for confidence. Now was the time to do that.

His chest became calm again, and his 가빠오든 [rapid] breathing became stable. Instead of his head being blank, his body was full of strength.

Winding up. In accordance with the pitching form made to maximize his tall height, he swung his long arm like a whip and threw the ball, 찍으면서 [snapping it down] from a high place.

Confidently. Without complicated thoughts. Just with all his might.

“Heup-”

The tightly closed mouth added strength until the end, with the teeth tightly 맞물리며 [clenched] as if they would smash each other. The strength in his body was released only after the ball left his hand.

He didn’t intend it on purpose. His body just 늘어졌다 [collapsed].

He was 쭉 빠졌 [drained] of strength, but on the other hand, he felt relieved.

He had always been seeking answers and had been harshly 채찍질 [whipping] himself because of that. But now, there was no need to do that, and the answer came out simply.

He did his best to the best of his ability and threw the best ball, so what answer is there for a guy who hits even that? He just has to give up and accept it.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Cheering spectators. The batter who threw his bat. The batted ball that flew away before that. Aidan Styles thought as he watched it.

‘X발 [fuck], confidence이고 나발이고 [and all that bullshit], it just wasn’t going to work. Let’s catch another batter.’

증명이고 나발이고 [proof and all that bullshit], if the media or anti-fans 욕한다 [curse] with this, saying I’m chicken-hearted or whatever, that’s just bullshit.