The Pitcher Just Hits Home Runs Well [EN]: Chapter 227

227. Championship (4)

158.9km/h.

Hamin-hyung [older brother/mentor figure], who had been quietly watching the game from the dugout, leaned forward, startled. The other players reacted similarly.

“Hey, what was that? 158.9?? Almost 160?”

“Ji Yonghyuk?”

“Ah, he’s in the same class as Myunghoon. I heard he was a bit of a sensation in the Futures League [KBO’s minor league] last year for throwing 155.”

“Really? Then why hasn’t he played in the first team this season?”

“I heard that his control has been a problem since high school, and he hasn’t been able to fix it.”

The name Ji Yonghyuk definitely rings a bell. Among us, he was more infamous as a hard thrower than a reliable pitcher.

He was undeniably fast.

In the KBO [Korean Baseball Organization], a pitcher with an average speed of 153 km/h is a sensation in itself. Of course, in the last 5 or 6 years, the fastball revolution seems to have taken hold in the KBO, so an average speed of 153 isn’t enough to be called the fastest ever.

There are as many as 12 pitchers in the bullpen who average over 150 this season. Of course, even so, a top speed close to 159 is definitely a big deal. But even with that speed, Ji Yonghyuk never made it to the closer level. There must have been many reasons, but the fundamental one was his lack of control.

That’s right. Ji Yonghyuk was a pitcher who couldn’t control his pitches.

In rifle terms, it means that no matter how much you aim at the center, the grouping isn’t the size of a 500-won coin [small coin], but almost the size of an A4 sheet of paper [standard paper size]. He was the kind of pitcher who could throw a beanball [pitch aimed at the batter’s head] and still have the excuse that it was aimed at the middle of the zone but slipped out of his hand. It means he was not a pitcher you could trust to handle a crucial moment.

And in the process, Ji Yonghyuk’s speed gradually decreased as the seasons went by. Eventually, by the time I was making my way to the Majors [Major League Baseball], he had been reduced to a trade card, a resource that other teams would try to scratch and see if they could get anything out of him. Well, even in his 30s, he could still throw in the low 150s if he really pushed himself, so he would have been a resource worth considering.

Ji Yonghyuk on the mound threw his second pitch.

-Bang!!

A 157.8km/h fastball.

The umpire’s hand didn’t go up.

The ball barely missed the zone. Was that a ball aimed at the edge of the zone? Or was it a ball aimed at the center of the zone but missed?

Gyuman-sunbae’s [senior/respected teammate] bat stopped halfway through its swing. His reaction speed is a bit of a problem, but his eye is still pretty good.

People often think that if a pitcher throws 100 miles per hour but can’t control his pitches, he should sacrifice some speed to gain control. That’s a very wrong idea. If a pitcher who throws 130 gives up a little control, can he suddenly throw 140 or 150? Control is also a talent.

Of course, there are cases where control improves by correcting a problem with the release point or movement. But right now, Ji Yonghyuk on the mound is throwing the ball very honestly with a fairly consistent timing and rhythm. That means that’s the best control he can manage.

“Wow, that ball is insane! Another 158?”

“Has there ever been a left-handed pitcher in the league who throws in the high 150s?”

“There have been a few up to 156, but 158 is a first, I think?”

But no matter what the control, the speed of 157 or 8 kept people buzzing. Gyuman-sunbae raised his hand for a time-out. The umpire glanced at the mound and nodded. The pitcher didn’t look happy, but with Gyuman-sunbae’s experience, that kind of consideration was natural, regardless of the game-promotion rule [rule to speed up the game].

***

Lee Gyuman took a light breath.

It was a surprisingly fast ball. If he had seen it even once in the previous at-bat, he probably wouldn’t have been so flustered.

‘But you know that being flustered isn’t the real problem.’

Lee Gyuman smiled bitterly at the honest inner voice.

‘But isn’t it a good thing? Even if I don’t get a hit here, it won’t affect our victory much.’

His eyes briefly scanned the scoreboard.

4:0.

Yeah, we’re already ahead by 4 points.

‘Besides…’

His eyes scanned the dugout again.

Quite a few of the younger players have jumped up from their seats. They must be surprised by the speed close to 160. And from the figure of Baek Hamin, who is steadfastly holding his position even in such a situation, I can sense a strong confidence that it doesn’t matter whether we score additional points here or not, as long as we have a 4-point lead.

The championship is practically confirmed.

Although Lee Gyuman’s own contribution to the championship will be extremely small, team sports aren’t about one person achieving everything. Victory comes when each person does his best in his position. Lee Gyuman himself has done his part as the oldest member and captain.

Choi Suwon’s cocky face came into view.

He seemed to be saying to him.

‘Sunbae, you’ve done your best within your limits so far.’

Yeah, honestly, freeing that monster from the internal politics of the Marines, including the school ties and personal connections, and preventing major discord from arising despite his cocky personality, by talking to the veterans of other teams… Lee Gyuman himself could be said to have done a lot.

The thoughts were long, but the time was short.

Yeah, let’s not dwell on the results and just do our best now.

I’ve tried hard enough.

And finally, his eyes went to the back of home plate.

He scanned the stands in the infield.

And there, two grandmothers caught his eye.

“Hey!! Lee Gyuman!! You crazy bastard! You better do well!”

“Oh my. Sister, stop it. It’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing about it? I don’t care about that.”

And it was no coincidence that those grandmothers caught Lee Gyuman’s eye.

There were a lot of Marines fans wearing uniforms at the stadium today. It wasn’t strange. Busan and Changwon were very close, and unlike the Blaze, who had been eliminated from the fall baseball season, the Marines had a lot at stake, from Choi Suwon’s home run race to the championship. And of course, most of the uniforms worn by those many fans were brand new uniforms with Choi Suwon’s number 79 on them.

But those grandmothers were a little different.

Old, worn uniforms that didn’t fit in with the most expensive table seats in the stadium. And on those old uniforms, a faded signature that was also old caught his eye. It was a very unsophisticated signature.

Lee Gyuman.

10 years? Maybe even more than 20 years ago. It was his signature from when he was full of pretension and pursuing unnecessarily complicated signatures. His face flushed for no reason. He was embarrassed.

What was he embarrassed about?

Was it that old, unsophisticated signature? Or was it Lee Gyuman at the time he wrote that old, unsophisticated signature? Or was it the current Lee Gyuman that the Lee Gyuman of that time was looking at?

Without realizing it, his eyes went back to where they had been.

Choi Suwon was still there. His face hadn’t changed. But for some reason, that same face was saying something different.

‘Sunbae, do you think that doing what you can within your limits is really the same as doing your best?’

No, maybe it was Lee Gyuman of 2007, not Choi Suwon of 2027, who was saying that.

Lee Gyuman squeezed his eyes shut.

“Lee Gyuman?”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

The home plate umpire called him in a low voice.

A veteran umpire who had debuted in the pros three years earlier than him, quit his pro career after five years, and had already been an umpire for 21 years.

He stood at the plate again.

The pitcher on the mound looked at him with a confident expression.

The situation hadn’t changed at all.

The score was still 4:0.

The Marines’ victory was almost certain, the pitcher on the mound was a left-hander throwing 158, and the batter at the plate was now 42 years old. An old man on the verge of retirement.

Since when has he been satisfied with being a supporting actor?

Since when has Lee Gyuman himself not been doing his best at the plate?

“That crazy bastard. He’s been a handful since he was a rookie.”

Ah, those grandmothers. Now I remember.

They were the grandmothers who had laid down in front of the bus 22 years ago when we had a home game in Changwon. Thanks to them, we were delayed on the bus for 20 minutes, and eventually the manager had to go out and apologize and say that we would do better next time. As a bonus, Lee Gyuman, who was a rookie at the time, signed his uniform.

Really…

To not give up like this for 22 years.

Maybe those grandmothers’ tenacity is worthy of the adjective ‘steel-like’.

Ji Yonghyuk on the mound wound up.

A confident face.

But Lee Gyuman read in that face not real confidence, but the face of a young man struggling to have confidence.

An honest pitching motion from an honest stance. A struggle to throw the best ball he can, rather than facing the batter at the plate.

He let one ball go by.

And the fourth.

-Thwack!!!

Quickly.

Rather than trying to distinguish what the pitcher on the mound was throwing, he just matched the timing and swung a little faster.

He didn’t run.

He stood at the plate for a moment, looking at his batted ball with a complicated expression. And no one blamed Lee Gyuman for that. The prestige that Lee Gyuman had built up in the KBO was too great for his ball watching to be considered an act of provoking the pitcher.

So this was just the last roar of a lion who had lost all his mane, looking at the territory he had dominated for so long. Just as no young lion would take the roar of that old lion as a provocation, so too would Lee Gyuman’s ball watching.

The baseball lightly went over the fence.

5:0

Although it wasn’t a home run that decided the game, the fans who had watched him for a long time applauded the oldest member of the team, who had finally hit a home run in that important game with the team’s championship on the line.

It was as if everything was over, but it was only the top of the 6th inning, and the end of the game was still far away.

Just as a person’s life doesn’t end at its most glorious moment.

It was still the top of the 6th inning, and they hadn’t even gotten one out yet, so the end of the inning seemed far away.

-Whoosh!!

“Strike!! Out!!!”

Cho Yujin’s clean strikeout ended the Marines’ attack in the top of the 6th. And the pitcher, who had been sitting silently, naturally grabbed his glove and went up to the mound.

5 points.

That was more than enough for the pitcher to lead the game to victory.

-Whoosh!!

“Strike!! Out!!!”

[Professional Baseball Busan Marines!! First Championship Since the Founding of the KBO Professional Baseball League!!]

[46 Seasons Since 1982!! Marines Finally Win Their First Championship!!]

[Choi Suwon Hits Multiple Home Runs!! Where Will the End of That Record Be?]

“Ah… Why does the article about the Marines’ championship have a picture of me striking out…”

And Cho Gyuhyuk, who was only in his second game since his debut, proudly put his face on the main page of the portal.