The Pitcher Just Hits Home Runs Well [EN]: Chapter 326

326. Maybe a Fluke? (7)

[Trevor Story, Boston’s number 2 hitter, steps up to the plate!]

[This player also has quite a story… (omitted) …]

Trevor Story stared at Choi Su-won.

Just a few days ago, this young hitter had put up ridiculous numbers in his hometown of Coors Field before showing an amazing ability to adapt back to sea level. Now, he was a young pitcher dominating Boston’s entire lineup.

‘What if I had that kind of adaptability?’

Thirty-five.

Not too far in the future, a hitter nearing retirement briefly reflected on his past.

He had very special memories, but looking back, they were no different from the commonplace war stories of old-timers in bars who had once had their glory days. Fortunately, there was a crucial difference between those old-timers’ tales and his own.

Completion.

The old men’s stories were already finished.

But Trevor Story’s story was different. Although his brightest days were behind him, his saga was still in progress. In fact, this very moment might be the climax of his tale.

Trevor Story gripped his bat tightly.

Yes, like a hero facing the Demon King, gripping his holy sword.

‘Still, that guy… he’s definitely tired.’

Watching from the on-deck circle, it was clear that Choi Su-won’s curveball had lost some of its bite. What was surprising, though, was that his control didn’t seem to be faltering much. Considering he was only twenty years old and his pitches were still hitting over 100 mph, you could guess at the extent of his talent.

But that was all it was: talent. Sometimes, amazing talent transcends time, but unfortunately, Choi Su-won’s was limited to hitting. His pitching wasn’t on the level of a great twenty-year-old who would go down in history, like Dwight Gooden. At best, maybe a Don Drysdale or a Felix Hernandez? Although, he wasn’t sure if the word ‘at best’ really fit before those names.

Choi Su-won on the mound threw the ball.

A curveball with a big drop.

– Whoosh!!

“Strike!!!”

Up until now, he’d mostly been attacking the zone with his fastball on the first pitch, but this was a curveball right down the middle. The drop was still significant, but it wasn’t the kind that plummeted from the top of the strike zone to almost bounce before reaching the plate.

Second pitch.

Outside course.

A pitch that barely caught the edge of the zone.

It was tough. Unless you were a crazy good hitter, you’d just end up hitting a ground ball. And yet, it had a high chance of being called a strike.

In just 0.21 seconds.

Trevor Story made his decision.

– Whoosh!!!!

“Strike!!”

Damn it.

It was another curveball.

Since last month, this guy had started throwing a strange curveball, one where the drop was reduced but the horizontal movement was emphasized. It danced out of the zone, mocking Trevor Story’s bat.

Suddenly, the count was 0-2.

He was clearly tired, but it was still difficult. You’d think he’d throw a mistake pitch, but he wasn’t. Trevor Story waited very calmly for the third pitch.

‘He’s definitely tired. He’s going to come at me aggressively.’

A tired pitcher never wants to increase his pitch count.

Besides, Choi Su-won was only twenty. Pitchers that age tend to be more daring. They enjoy taking risks. Like how he coolly threw a ball outside the zone to avoid a potential perfect game-breaking hit.

So, conversely, with a 0-2 count, there was a high probability he’d try to strike him out aggressively.

Third pitch.

Choi Su-won went into a big windup.

Inside course.

A pitch that was neither high nor low. It wasn’t the mistake he was hoping for, but it wasn’t bad either.

Trevor Story swung aggressively.

– Clang!!!

A high fly ball.

But the angle was too high.

‘Crap…’

His eyes, having grown accustomed to the breaking balls, had forgotten that his fastball had much less drop than average. And the speed was a whopping 102.4 mph.

The weakly hit ball didn’t even leave the infield.

Aaron Judge, the Yankees’ first baseman, took a few quick steps and easily caught the ball at the landing point. Aaron Judge used to be an outfielder. Even though he’d lost some of his athleticism from his prime, his defense at first base was still among the best in the league.

[A pop-up to the infield on the third pitch!! Choi Su-won induces a pop-up out from Trevor Story with a powerful inside fastball!]

[Two outs in the bottom of the 7th. Now up to bat is Rafael Devers, the number 3 hitter. Rafael Devers steps up to the plate.]

***

Alex Verdugo, Trevor Story, and Rafael Devers. They were all tough hitters, but if there was a breather in the lineup, it was Trevor Story. Already 35 years old, he was starting to show signs of struggling with fastballs. The decline in brain function that comes with age, and the resulting decrease in reflexes, was the hardest thing to slow down, even with various scientific training methods.

On the other hand, Rafael Devers.

31 years old this year.

Physically, he was just past his peak. Technically, he was reaching the point where you could call him ‘complete.’ A strong contender who had finished second in MVP [Most Valuable Player] voting twice.

He took a few deep breaths.

The timing of his recovery after a full-effort pitch was slightly delayed. It was clear evidence that his body was tired.

Perhaps the biggest hurdle of today’s game.

He put more strength into his body, determined to overcome this final obstacle.

The first pitch would be a fastball that breaks slightly outside…

– Crack!!!!

A clean hit that sounded like he’d shattered the baseball.

The ball flew straight to the right.

Wow, honestly, this was a hit that would clear the fence in any ballpark, Pesky’s Pole [a unique feature of Fenway Park’s right field] or not.

All the strength drained from his body.

When it felt like the energy of the universe was pushing him, he really thought he might pitch a perfect game, but it was going to end like this.

But why?

He didn’t feel as devastated as he thought he would.

There were probably two reasons.

First, this perfect game had come about more by luck than by skill.

And second, he felt like he could achieve it with his own ability someday.

The ball that had been flying straight soared over the fence.

‘Huh?’

But it was slightly to the right of Pesky’s Pole.

[Rafael Devers!! A foul homerun that narrowly misses the pole!! A very fortunate moment for our Choi Su-won on the mound.]

[Yes, I think the hearts of all 50 million people watching this game just skipped a beat. But the result is still foul!! The count is 0-1!! Bottom of the 7th. Two outs!! Choi Su-won has still not allowed a single baserunner.]

Did it have a little spin? Or was the air current favorable?

He didn’t know. But thanks to the ball curving a little more to the right, it was a foul homerun by a hair’s breadth. If it had been just 30 centimeters more inside, it would have hit the pole.

Luck was on his side.

His body, which had momentarily lost its strength, wasn’t recovering well.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the ball that Jose Trevino handed him. He had told himself it was okay when he thought the perfect game was over, but it seemed like it wasn’t okay after all. He hadn’t noticed, but his hand was damp with sweat.

“Ah, spit, spit, spit.”

He almost jinxed it.

He lightly spat three times and patted the rosin bag a few times. Since he was swinging aggressively at pitches on the outside corner, the choice was easy.

High outside course.

A curveball that would drop even if it bounced.

Rafael Devers read his mind.

Or maybe he just knew it was a curveball.

The bat stopped halfway through its swing.

– Thwack!!!

“Strike!!!”

The umpire clenched his fist.

[A curveball that barely catches the edge of the zone!! Choi Su-won attacks the zone aggressively. The count is now 0-2. One pitch away from a strikeout.]

It was a mistake pitch that came about because he lost some strength in his hand.

The movement was much worse than he had intended, so the ball went inside the zone. Well, all’s well that ends well. The result was good, so that’s all that mattered.

The battle continued.

A 0-2 count was absolutely advantageous for the pitcher.

The most embarrassing strikeout was not a swing and a miss, but a called strike. That’s why the hitter had to swing more aggressively.

If the hitter swung at pitches on the edge of the zone, there was a high probability that he would be fooled by a bait pitch or make a weak ground ball by hitting a terrible pitch.

He threw three consecutive decent pitches on the 3rd, 4th, and 5th pitches.

The result was a 2-2 count.

Rafael Devers adjusted his stance and pressured him again from the plate.

Twice runner-up for MVP.

The count was 2-2.

Okay, he admitted it. He was also a guy with a lot of connections to the number 2.

But before his regression, he had been runner-up a whopping 2×2 times. He was the very embodiment of the number 2.

He erased the fatigue from his body with these useless thoughts.

Sixth pitch.

Inside, knee-high.

The fastest fastball.

Rafael Devers swung his bat like lightning.

It was a slightly ambiguous pitch, but he must have judged that he could pull it enough.

– Clang!!!!

And his judgment was correct.

The angle was low, but the speed was incredible. The ball he threw was a whopping 100.3 mph, but the speed of the hit ball was so intense that it felt like it would be almost 120 mph. But considering the angle of the hit, he wouldn’t give up a run.

The ball flew like an arrow between 2nd and 3rd base.

And a little faster than he recognized.

Anthony Volpe was the Yankees’ next franchise player, who was said to be the successor to No. 2 Derek Jeter. But after talking to him, he knew that he didn’t really enjoy that title. Like No. 11 Brett Gardner, whom he had inherited, he was more of a diligent, nerdy type who quietly did his job than a star who shone brightly for a moment.

Yes, that was definitely true.

Derek Jeter was not a good shortstop from a sabermetric point of view. But he often showed plays that were hard to understand. And those incomprehensible plays were great super plays worthy of the word ‘The’.

The Flip. And The Dive.

And at this moment.

Anthony Volpe showed a super play that made him think of the word ‘The Grab’. An absurd play where he jumped and caught a 120 mph hit.

For a moment, silence fell over Fenway Park.

And in that silence.

-Clap clap clap.

He took off his glove and applauded him.

As if on cue, many spectators applauded him. In the midst of it, Volpe got up with an awkward expression and proudly held up the ball in his glove.

And that scene was the most wonderful scene in today’s game, that is, in his ‘perfect’ process.