Pitcher’S End, Batter’S Start [EN]: Chapter 93

Pitcher winds up, batter steps up to the plate – 92

The ball is hurled forward once more.

Braves fans leaped to their feet.

They were celebrating a play they’d only witnessed on the screen, a moment from Wrigley Field, as if trying to compensate for not being there. The energy was electric.

They roared with excitement.

“Wooooaaaah!”

“This is Braves country!”

“Let’s keep it clean and fair from now on! You hear me, Reds?!”

Lee Jung-woo, presented with the opportunity, seized it without hesitation.

He embraced the moment.

After driving in all the runners and finally crossing home plate himself, Lee Jung-woo surveyed the ecstatic stadium.

He offered a nod, his expression conveying unwavering reliability to the Braves faithful.

“Look this way! Please, everyone, look over here!”

“Lee! You’re a legend! They should induct you into the Hall of Fame right now, damn it!”

That simple gesture amplified the cheers, while the Cincinnati players listlessly scuffed the dirt with their cleats.

Others attempted to block out the noise by gazing towards the distant mountains.

[Today’s game revealed what happens when you unleash Lee in July.]

[Ultimately, Cincinnati’s initial strategy proved correct.]

Four at-bats, three hits, two runs, one home run, five RBIs. Just shy of Peterson’s explosive performance the previous day, fueled by wounded pride.

Lee Jung-woo’s dominant display contributed to a final score of 11 to 6.

They achieved what’s often called a “handball score” [a high-scoring game, like in handball].

Cincinnati battled fiercely with their own hitters, engaging in a slugfest to keep the game within reach, but…

The home run in the bottom of the 8th inning sealed their fate.

[After an exhilarating back-and-forth slugfest, the series between the Atlanta Braves and the Cincinnati Reds concludes.]

[Cincinnati discovered a method to contain the hottest hitter in the league, but it wasn’t enough.]

[Exactly, because Lee isn’t the only threat on the Braves. That’s what decided the game. Even if Lee is neutralized, they have other powerful hitters. And today, Lee was unleashed, leading to a complete rout.]

The Braves, concluding July on a high note with a sweep of the Cincinnati Reds, solidified their second-place position in the division, breathing down the necks of the first-place Phillies.

It was undeniably a phenomenal month, yet it paled in comparison to Lee Jung-woo’s individual performance.

[Lee had the best July in baseball history. Player of the Month is a lock!]

[Lee isn’t just a lucky rookie. Cincinnati Reds manager: ‘Other teams shouldn’t dismiss him. They should recognize him as an elite hitter and a game-changer.’]

[Unanimous Player of the Month award? ‘Lee in July transcends the current generation. He deserves to be compared to the legends of the game.’]

A historic July.

That was the universal assessment of Lee Jung-woo’s performance.

He packed a month with as much impact as a hitter possibly could.

Even those who initially saw him as a flash in the pan began to reconsider.

Perhaps they were witnessing the genesis of a new legend.

[LAD – Seriously, is he going to become the next Vincent Harding? Just when Harding seemed to be slowing down, another one emerges?]

[PIT – Harding, but Asian? Are you insane? We’re getting Harding, no matter what it takes.]

[ATL – Are *you* insane? We’re talking about performance, not race. Still no?]

Vincent Harding.

Lee Jung-woo was being compared to the reigning legend and last June’s Player of the Month.

Could this guy possibly reach that monster’s level? People wondered.

Some even ventured into more audacious territory.

[ARI – Honestly, wasn’t Harding *not* this good as a rookie?]

[NYM – It’s not that he wasn’t this good. Comparing Lee to Harding at this stage is almost disrespectful to Lee.]

[WSH – The Flying Dutchman [a famous baseball player] was impressive as a rookie, but still not on par with Lee’s current performance. Lee’s better.]

In the minds of many.

The notion that this extraordinary Korean player might surpass even that legendary figure began to take root.

In fact, a comparison of their rookie seasons showed Lee Jung-woo ahead, so…

The claim gained traction. It was a serious discussion.

For teams and fans across the National League.

[STL – Oh my god, just when I thought Harding was finally declining, another one appears?]

[MIL – It’s not just similar. He might be even better.]

[BOS – The National League’s level is a joke. Seriously, getting dominated by a twenty-one-year-old kid? You guys are terrible at baseball.]

[NYY – Mets, you’re an embarrassment to New York. I saw you getting thoroughly trounced by that loud Asian guy the other day. And you still call New York home? You have some nerve.]

With the league already under the shadow of one legendary player, the Flying Dutchman.

The emergence of a new phenomenon instilled fear in many National League fans.

The American League remained a distant world, leading to numerous posts mocking the National League’s perceived weakness, highlighting the rookie’s incredible performance and their inability to contain him.

But the atmosphere within the National League, directly impacted by this new force, was somber.

Everyone acknowledged the reality.

If Lee Jung-woo maintained this level of play…

As the Cincinnati Reds manager suggested, he was a pioneer.

And perhaps the most effective strategy was simply to avoid pitching to him.

But Lee Jung-woo didn’t particularly relish this atmosphere.

####

Early evening.

Lee Jung-woo opened the refrigerator, seeking to quell his hunger, but…

‘Maybe I should eat out for a change?’

He glanced at the neatly organized packages, portioned according to his strict diet.

He shook his head, as if weary of the routine, and left the house.

He was pushing himself relentlessly to improve.

But he needed to unwind occasionally.

He wasn’t a machine.

Constant pressure would inevitably lead to mental fatigue.

‘Tacos are getting old, too. Maybe some Korean food for once?’

He craved something different.

He drove around aimlessly.

Soon, Lee Jung-woo spotted a Korean restaurant that piqued his interest and went inside.

‘Hmm. No, let’s not jump to conclusions.’

The restaurant featured an open kitchen.

But, surprisingly, all the chefs were white.

Lee Jung-woo paused momentarily.

But he shook off his hesitation and chose a table.

“Heok-”

A handsome waiter, seemingly a magnet for female customers, approached.

The moment he made eye contact with Lee Jung-woo, he gasped and stumbled backward, as if on the verge of fainting.

Lee Jung-woo, accustomed to this reaction, raised a finger to his lips, signaling for calm.

But the surrounding attention had already shifted to him.

Some patrons seemed to recognize him and were whispering excitedly to their companions.

“Oh, o-oh… I-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll take one of these and one of those. Do you have lukewarm water?”

“Yes! We do! Absolutely!”

The waiter’s eagerness to fulfill his request, even for a simple glass of water, made Lee Jung-woo feel a pang of sympathy.

He quickly placed his order to alleviate the waiter’s nervousness.

“Yes, and please bring me a bottle of water.”

“I’ll get it right away! If you need anything else… anything at all! Please! Just let me know!”

Lee Jung-woo chuckled softly at the waiter’s overly enthusiastic demeanor, then touched his clean-shaven chin, feeling the intense gazes of the surrounding customers and staff.

They seemed eager to take pictures and request autographs.

But thanks to the prevailing culture of respecting privacy, even for celebrities.

No one approached him directly. They simply observed him from a distance with undisguised fascination.

‘I think it would be more relaxing if they just came over and asked for an autograph.’

Lee Jung-woo, feeling like an animal in a zoo enclosure, clicked his tongue, but also let out a hollow laugh.

‘I’ve been sidelined.’

Instead of the waiter who had initially greeted him.

A slightly more senior employee delivered the food.

The handsome waiter, who had urged him to ask for anything, was glaring in their direction, or rather, at the employee carrying the food, with a distinctly jealous expression.

“Here’s your order. Enjoy your meal. And please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. And, if you don’t mind, could I possibly take a picture with you after you’re finished eating…?”

“Yes, I’d be happy to.”

Lee Jung-woo replied casually and finished his meal, which was surprisingly delicious.

After posing for pictures and signing autographs for the employees who had been circling like hyenas and the customers who had been emboldened by his willingness.

He went to the counter to pay, but…

The employee at the counter shook his head.

“Someone else already took care of it.”

“Someone else?”

While he had been eating, he had assumed that an acquaintance might have arrived and secretly paid for his meal.

Lee Jung-woo tilted his head.

But then he realized.

‘Huh, is this what I’m worth?’

It was a common anecdote.

A running joke that if you become a franchise star.

You can get by even without money.

Some players have even been known to offer baseball autographs instead of cash when taking a taxi or dining at a restaurant.

In Lee Jung-woo’s case, it wasn’t something he had sought, but he had inadvertently experienced it firsthand.

“Um, can I ask who it was?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t disclose customer information.”

“I’m a little uncomfortable….”

Lee Jung-woo smiled awkwardly.

But in reality, everyone in the restaurant except him had anticipated this.

Right now, Lee Jung-woo was the most beloved figure in Atlanta, without a doubt.

And many people felt that buying a meal for someone who brought them so much joy was a small price to pay.

‘It’s a bit much.’

But Lee Jung-woo felt uneasy about such generosity.

The attention and the weight of expectations felt overwhelming.

Lee Jung-woo hurried out of the restaurant, as if escaping.

####

‘I’m getting used to the major leagues. But this kind of thing is still awkward.’

There were many away games.

He hadn’t been lying down for very long.

Lee Jung-woo, resting on the bed that had already conformed slightly to his body, replayed the earlier events in his mind.

He was well aware of the affection the people of Atlanta held for him.

Lee Jung-woo himself would undoubtedly feel the same way about a star player on his favorite team.

But the weight of that affection had undeniably shifted since his return to Atlanta from Chicago.

It felt like he had truly become a franchise player.

‘Those four consecutive home runs must have made a big impact.’

He understood the situation.

How baseball fans were perceiving, evaluating, and embracing Lee Jung-woo at this moment.

Even though he wasn’t easily swayed by public opinion.

He was at least curious about how they viewed him as a person.

‘I’m getting a little too much attention.’

Braves fans, already comparing him to legendary players, were always enthusiastic, so he hadn’t minded it too much.

But now, fans of other teams were also recognizing and fearing Lee Jung-woo as a player.

It wasn’t just an Atlanta phenomenon.

All those reactions felt stifling and uncomfortable, like wearing ill-fitting clothes.

‘I might have been *too* good.’

He suddenly reflected on his journey.

Looking back, after his return.

He had achieved the impossible.

He had accomplished unbelievable feats.

After a dreamlike call-up, his initial goal was simply to survive in the major leagues and secure a starting position.

He had achieved all of that, of course. And now, goals he had never even considered were emerging.

‘Rookie of the Year is a legitimate possibility. If I had debuted earlier and met the required at-bats, I could have won a Silver Slugger or a Gold Glove.’

Things he hadn’t even dared to dream of.

Were gradually becoming attainable.

They were within reach.

All of it felt so surreal that he couldn’t help but laugh.

But what was even more absurd was how accustomed he had become to it.

‘When did I become like this?’

He suddenly felt a chill.

Now everything felt real. What Lee Jung-woo had been doing.

And how people were reacting to it.

He even felt a flicker of pride, acknowledging that he had surpassed those he had once admired, envied, and looked up to.

Of course, another realization dawned on him.

‘This is great. But from now on, I’ll be under intense scrutiny.’

Lee Jung-woo assessed the situation objectively.

He was undeniably exceptional.

He couldn’t imagine performing any better.

He was so good that trying to improve felt almost pointless.

But he knew that some of his success was due to the element of surprise.

‘The rookie label will fade away. Up until now, some pitchers might have underestimated me. That won’t happen anymore.’

Even if they didn’t completely ignore him.

There were pitchers who made him wonder, ‘Do they not know me well?’ There were often pitchers who tried to overpower him, especially those with established careers. He had learned a few lessons the hard way.

They were doing their best.

But he sensed that they were slightly dismissive in their approach to pitching to him.

That would change.

‘The real challenge begins now. It’s been too easy so far.’

Lee Jung-woo thought.

It would start now.

The moment he had that thought.

The expectations surrounding him felt heavy.

He worried that everything could crumble in an instant, whether due to an injury, a slump, or simply because his success was unsustainable.

The countless accolades and evaluations. The club’s faith. The trust of his teammates. And even the adoration of passionate fans.

He knew all too well how easily he could experience failure, so…

The fear of the future, of a return to his pre-regression state, crept in and threatened to consume him.

In fact, an unpleasant sensation prickled the back of his neck.

‘If they come at me harder, I just have to be even better.’

Lee Jung-woo didn’t succumb to ominous thoughts or delusions.

He had tasted success too many times to allow that.

And he was too close to victory now.

That’s why Lee Jung-woo easily brushed aside the dark emotions, remnants of his past.

He was confident that he wouldn’t allow himself to fall again. Even if he stumbled.

“Even if I falter, I just have to overcome it again.”

He was confident in his ability to rise again.

The defeats he had already overcome no longer haunted him.

Instead, they had narrowed the gap between his aspirations and reality.

They allowed him to regain his composure once more.