Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 84

Pitcher Done, Hitter Up – Episode 83

“How’s it going? Are you getting a feel for it?”

Peterson asked, massaging Lee Jung-woo’s shoulder as he returned from his strikeout.

He seemed to be saying, ‘How does that taste to you, too?’

Lee Jung-woo nodded, and Peterson’s eyes widened like full moons.

“Yes, I’m getting a feel for it to some extent.”

“Huh? You’re really getting a feel for it? You’re really getting a feel for that damn ball?”

“What is it? What is it?”

“Who’s getting a feel for what?”

“No, Lee is saying he’s getting a feel for it?”

“What, that weird splitter? He’s getting a feel for that?”

At Peterson’s reaction, the surrounding players buzzed and approached.

In their eyes, as they looked at Lee Jung-woo, there was a hint of hope.

Having been struck out without even grazing the ball, they were wondering if they could even get that damn pitcher off the mound today, let alone get a feel for it.

Even Lee Jung-woo, who showed incredible strength in vertical movement, had been struck out.

Some people were even thinking, ‘Ah, this game is over.’

But now that he said he was getting a feel for it, they gathered around, buzzing like people seeking the wisdom of a sage.

Lee Jung-woo’s answer to the players, who were looking at him with eyes that were almost uncomfortably sparkling, was simple.

“It’s a little slower than a splitter, but it drops more? And the timing is a little unfamiliar.”

“Right. That’s what makes it so damn annoying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get your impression. So, what do you think we should do?”

“Since it’s slow, just wait for it to drop and then hit it.”

At Lee Jung-woo’s answer, the players cupped their ears, looking as if they had misheard something.

But he looked around at them with a confident expression, as if his answer was certain.

At that, the players who had gathered together quickly dispersed.

“Come to think of it, he was also in the Joy department [referring to a department known for talented individuals], right? Damn geniuses. They only adjust to their own level.”

“He really only got a feel for it in a way that only he knows. Is this talent?”

“Hmm, if you think of anything else you can explain in more detail, let me know then.”

“Yes.”

Lee Jung-woo, who nodded at Derek’s request, sat on the bench and reviewed the game.

It wasn’t just a joke.

How to attack Iwakuma Takeshi, a signature move of a big shot.

He had a definite feel for it.

‘The timing is a little different and unconventional from curves or splitters with the same vertical movement. Coming like a fastball is slightly similar to a splitter. But the feeling when it drops is the same as a curve.’

In other words, it was very subtle.

So he ended up striking out even after looking straight at the ball. But one thing was certain.

At least this was the last strikeout.

‘The one he threw at me was 84 miles per hour. Including the ones he threw at other hitters. The maximum speed is about 85 miles per hour. It’s similar to my fastball speed when I was a pitcher.’

Iwakuma Takeshi.

His magic ball [a pitch that seems to defy physics] and symbol, the forkball, was slow.

If the speed was fast.

Lee Jung-woo would have difficulty attacking it.

As if everything couldn’t be perfect, the speed was slow.

‘Wait like a fastball. Wait and hit it like a curve. It’s not like my bat speed is slow.’

The answer Lee Jung-woo got was very simple and straightforward.

It was like a play on words. If you have the ability to execute it.

The story changes.

Lee Jung-woo had the ability.

His bat speed wasn’t so slow that he couldn’t hit a ball in the 80-mile range even if he caught the timing a little late.

Even if the drop is bigger than expected. That’s not really important to Lee Jung-woo.

He’s swung at and connected balls that were almost slammed on the floor into home runs.

‘First, try it in the next at-bat. If it doesn’t work, find another way.’

Lee Jung-woo took it lightly.

After all, it’s just one game.

Of course, considering that we’ll meet again in the future, especially considering that we’re in the same division.

We’ll meet a lot.

But right now, there’s no need to feel so burdened and heavy.

Even if I fail now.

If you go through trial and error.

Someday, a method will appear.

“Out!”

Lee Jung-woo silently watched Iwakuma Takeshi, who unfortunately gave a ground ball to Poppin, stopping his streak of consecutive strikeouts at 5.

[Iwakuma’s Forkball is Seriously Insane.]

[It’s amazing that there’s still a guy who throws that. It’s even more amazing that it’s effective.]

Baseball fans were shocked by Iwakuma Takeshi’s overwhelming stuff that dominated the early part of the game.

It’s very clear that he’s a good player just by looking at the records.

But seeing the game in person, they received a shock on a different level.

Even though it was still early in the game, the Korean side felt like a funeral home.

Japan was in a festive mood.

Of course, there were people in a festive mood in Korea too.

[Lee Jung-woo is good at hitting splitters and curves. Seeing him strike out swinging, it seems different.]

[Nationalistic bastardsㅋㅋㅋ Look at them all shutting upㅋㅋㅋ]

[What? Manageable? Is Lee Jung-woo MVP-level just based on his current performance? Yeah~ you’re talking nonsense, right?]

[It’s just his first at-bat, idiots. And the pitcher is usually at an advantage until the first at-bat.]

[Yeah, next excuse~ If he’s really MVP-level, he should blow it away with a first-pitch home run~]

[I agree, I agree]

[Didn’t you see Lee Jung-woo’s dazed eyes? He’s gone mad from the shock.]

[His eyes were slightly rolling, weren’t they?]

[That’s Lee Jung-woo’s level. Now the bubble is bursting.]

Despite it being just one at-bat, as if not wanting to let go of a rare opportunity, some people over-interpreted Lee Jung-woo’s actions and fueled the fire.

But what most people wanted was for Lee Jung-woo to hit a refreshing home run.

But the opportunity didn’t come quickly.

[Derek Hunt hit it – a ground ball rolling through the infield is caught by the shortstop and thrown! Out. Even though the batting order changed, the result doesn’t change much.]

[Yes, Iwakuma Takeshi continues to not allow any runners on base.]

The Braves hitters couldn’t attack Iwakuma Takeshi at all.

And that was the same in the 4th inning when the batting order came around again.

No, the situation got worse.

The hitters, judging that they couldn’t hit the forkball, tried to swing before it broke [a pitch that suddenly drops].

That rather led to ground balls, only reducing the pitcher’s pitch count.

The fans became anxious.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit ominous? Are we really getting a perfect game–”

“Be quiet. Don’t you know that it will really happen if you say that?”

“We already know he’s good, but why is he so good today?”

“Ah, it’s over. It’s over.”

“Still, we won the first game. Even if we lose today, we’ll keep second place if we win tomorrow.”

It was only the early to mid-4th inning, but those who visited the stadium, or Braves fans who watched the game on TV, couldn’t picture their own hitters attacking the opposing pitcher’s ball.

The only good thing was that the Braves weren’t giving up any runs either.

Christensen was holding his own better than expected.

Also, the fielders seemed to be making up for their failures at the plate.

They showed more hustle than usual and blocked the opponent’s attack as much as possible.

Especially Lee Jung-woo and Derek, the two of them, as always, at any time, in any game, showed outstanding defensive skills.

“Captain!”

“Throw it right away.”

[Lee catches it and throws to 2nd base! Runner out! From 2nd base back to 1st – the timing is ambiguous… the umpire’s decision is out.]

[Will the Phillies manager request a challenge [official review of the play]?]

In today’s game, the two of them have already combined for two double plays.

That happened whenever the Phillies’ momentum was building.

Thanks to that, the Braves were able to continue their precarious pitching match.

However, hits and walks continued to come out on this side.

So it couldn’t be compared to Iwakuma, who was ‘perfectly’ pitching right now.

Anyway, the game was still tied.

“Please, anyone, just get a walk and get on base!”

Bottom of the 5th inning.

Braves fans shouted with all their wishes as they watched Iwakuma Takeshi come back to the mound.

Phillies fans laughed as if they were happy, but they also poured ridicule on the opposing team’s hitters.

Of course, they didn’t spare criticism for their own team’s hitters, who couldn’t score a single point even though their ace was doing so well.

“You X-shins [a Korean profanity]! Thanks to Iwakuma, you’re comfortably sucking honey in defense, how can’t you hit one!”

“Anyone who blames themselves today will die! I’m really going to kill you!”

“Just one point is enough! One point! Can’t you do that!”

In an atmosphere where one side of fans is anxious and the other side is angry, gradually going crazy.

Lee Jung-woo headed to the on-deck circle. Poppin applauded as he shouldered his bat and left the dugout.

“Alright, show me that feeling you caught. I’ll follow suit.”

Lee Jung-woo responded by lightly tapping his chest, as if to assure him, and then intently watched the pitcher dealing with Peterson.

Peterson was overly conscious of the forkball.

He had boasted during the change of innings that he would aim for the fastball no matter what.

As if Iwakuma Takeshi had heard him.

He didn’t throw a single fastball to Peterson.

Peterson, toyed with only forkballs and changeups and struck out, seemed unable to contain his anger.

He walked off the plate, putting on a spectacle of smashing his bat against his thigh.

Leaving the fuming Peterson behind, Lee Jung-woo stepped up to bat.

Then, pitcher Iwakuma’s expression was quite different from before.

The constantly relaxed face gradually hardened, and in his eyes, which met Lee Jung-woo’s, there was a very subtle worry.

‘For a pitcher of that caliber, does he have some kind of feeling [a sense of a batter’s weakness or strategy]? Amazing.’

He didn’t know what he saw in the batter who had embarrassingly swung and missed.

Thinking his intuition was great, Lee Jung-woo bounced his body.

He tapped the ground with the end of his bat and took his stance. Iwakuma shook his head a few times, and then.

For the first time, he used the pitch clock to its full extent before throwing the ball.

Lee Jung-woo watched his first pitch calmly.

A 90-mile two-seamer missed quite far outside.

The umpire resolutely called a ball because it was an indisputable course.

Whether they were testing the waters a bit.

Neither Peterson nor the catcher seemed very concerned.

And the ensuing match.

‘He’s not throwing a forkball. Did he really catch some kind of feeling?’

The pitcher, who had been tormenting and crushing hitters by actively using the forkball, saved it for the first time.

As if he didn’t want to show it to Lee Jung-woo.

Because of that.

Unlike how he had finished quickly until now, the pitcher seemed determined to use all the pitches he had saved on Lee Jung-woo.

He threw as meticulously as possible.

Lee Jung-woo didn’t bother swinging at bad pitches.

He only slightly cut the ambiguous ones.

As the match grew longer, the home fans began to feel a little hopeful.

“Lee! Please break the perfect game! I can’t breathe!”

“Whether it’s a walk or a hit, just get on base!”

Like their expectations.

Lee Jung-woo was thinking of ending the thrilling confrontation that had continued until now.

‘Now that he’s thrown everything. It doesn’t matter what he throws, not just the forkball.’

Thanks to the 10th pitch, he had caught the timing for fastballs and changeups.

Lee Jung-woo was ready to hit whatever came his way if the course was good.

Filled with such determination, he glared at the pitcher, who wiped the sweat from his forehead with his uniform and coordinated with the catcher with a noticeably nervous face.

When he shook his head a few times, the catcher seemed to lift his body as if to go up, but.

Soon, when he nodded, he sat quietly on the home plate and waited for the pitcher.

“Judging by how quiet he is, he must be eyeing that Rolex? Even with his high salary.”

“Can’t you shut that mouth? You uneducated brat. Where did you learn to play baseball that you don’t even know the common unwritten rules [etiquette and unspoken agreements in baseball]?”

“I’m the enemy, so what does it matter? From my point of view, it’s good if the perfect game is broken. Anyway, it’s nice to see you being discreet.”

Lee Jung-woo scratched [verbally provoked] the catcher a bit, hoping he might spill some information in a fit of anger, but he did nothing but glare at Lee Jung-woo with fierce eyes.

Lee Jung-woo, realizing that the catcher was genuinely nervous, soon looked away.

His big eyes contained only the pitcher.

The pitcher also only looked at Lee Jung-woo.

The stadium, which was noisy at first, was quiet at this moment.

The spectators also instinctively realized it.

That this match is the turning point of this game.

Iwakuma, who took a deep breath, moved his body slowly.

Gathering all the strength in his body, as if putting it in his right arm.

Showing off his unique, exaggerated pitching form.

Following the pitcher’s fingertips as he stretched out his arm.

Lee Jung-woo’s eyes also followed.

‘It’s coming. It’s a forkball.’

Lee Jung-woo saw the ball.

He saw it clearly.

Even though it was a pitch he had only seen once in the previous at-bat, it felt as welcome as his main pitch.

‘One, two.’

Lee Jung-woo counted slowly.

Along with feeling the rhythm, he watched the other players’ swings, trying to perfectly capture the timing he had grasped. Like a band drummer tapping his sticks to keep the beat before a performance, he internalized the rhythm.

And…

‘Three.’

Just like the pitcher winding up, the bat, fueled by all his strength, rotated to meet the descending ball.

The waist bent fluidly.

The swing pulled back and extended.

Like a top-class golfer’s motion.

Firm arms delivering a sure, winning shot.

Between them, the pitcher’s eyes widened, his dilated pupils shining with a cold intensity.

‘Here it comes.’

A clear, sharp sound of impact rang out.

Everyone who witnessed the hit had the same thought.

That’s a home run.

Lee Jung-woo thought so too.

So, he started his trot around the bases.

[Ah, this is going over—oh? Oh? It’s curving?]

[The trajectory, unfortunately, the trajectory is a little—]

Whether it was the wind’s influence or not, the hit ball gradually curved and eventually passed just outside the foul pole.

‘Oh, good thing I didn’t throw my bat. That would have been embarrassing.’

Lee Jung-woo mentally praised himself for maintaining his composure. If he had celebrated prematurely, he could have been greatly embarrassed.

He probably would have ended up on the Major League Baseball homepage for a slightly different reason than before – a highlight reel of an embarrassing near-home run.

‘It didn’t go over. Is the momentum shifting back to the pitcher’s side?’

The potential home run turned into a foul due to a sudden gust of wind.

A pointless worry suddenly surfaced: the thought that perhaps fate itself was rooting for the opponent’s victory.

But soon, seeing the pitcher’s expression, Lee Jung-woo realized that his worry was truly unfounded.

Because the pitcher’s face was anything but composed.

‘He’s shaken.’

He displayed an emotional turmoil that was plain for anyone to see. Perhaps the pitcher himself wasn’t fully aware of it, but Lee Jung-woo, the opposing batter, knew exactly what emotion was consuming him.

That’s fear.

The one emotion a pitcher should avoid feeling against a batter.

And on the other hand, there would also be a sense of rivalry, a need to reassert dominance.

‘Forkball, it’s coming again.’

If he were the pitcher…

If he were such an aggressive, prideful pitcher…

He would try to suppress the batter who dared to threaten him with the same pitch. To bury the current fear. To restore his wounded pride.

No, even if that wasn’t the case, it was fine. Because Lee Jung-woo’s concentration was also at its absolute peak right now.

So, Lee Jung-woo simply readjusted his timing again, and the pitcher shook his head vehemently.

Then he reluctantly got back into position.

The argument with the catcher or the bench was over, and Lee Jung-woo hoped he had won that mental battle.

Once again, he swung straight at the incoming ball.

Bang—

Like the sound of an executioner’s axe as it strikes the neck of a condemned prisoner.

But a slightly louder, more resounding sound than that filled Truist Park once again.

Even if the momentum had briefly shifted to the opponent’s side, it wasn’t anymore.

Because he had shattered it.

The sword that had fiercely cut down enemies was definitively broken.

With each step Lee Jung-woo took around the bases, the spectators in the stands next to him stood up powerfully, like a surging wave.

Like an old horror movie, countless hands sprang up from all over the stadium, reaching for the sky.

‘He’s collapsed.’

Lee Jung-woo, who had just hit a home run that shattered the pitcher’s perfect game, no-hitter, and shutout all at once, looked at the pitcher, who was bent over, supporting his thighs with both hands, and realized…

That the giant who had endured so well had finally collapsed with one swing of the bat.

‘It’s over.’

And that the game was virtually over with this one hit.