episode_0381

“Gwanhyeong!”

“Yes, coach.”

“I’m not telling you to hit a big one. Got it? There’s a lion behind you, so just play like usual. Just like usual.”

Just like usual. The order from the coach to Woo Gwanhyeong, who had recorded 3093 hits in the KBA League, was clear. The coach’s instruction to play as usual simply meant adding one more hit to the tower of hits Woo Gwanhyeong had built up until now.

“Understood.”

Woo Gwanhyeong nodded in response. While the team was trailing 2-1 in a situation where they needed to win the game to secure first place, most players might have felt pressure in such a difficult situation. However, Woo Gwanhyeong’s expression as he responded was calmness itself.

It was a situation that the 20-year veteran Woo Gwanhyeong had experienced countless times before. The only difference now was the position the team currently found themselves in.

“Woo Gwanhyeong! Woo Gwanhyeong!”

As Woo Gwanhyeong walked from the on-deck circle to the batter’s box, his entrance song echoed throughout the stadium.

How long had he longed for this moment at the plate since his injury during fall baseball? Through all the grueling rehab, he had always envisioned this moment.

“Invincible A! T! Woo Gwanhyeong!”

As he settled into his hitting routine in the batter’s box, the cheers from the fans who had traveled all the way to Suwon could be heard. It was a cheer he had heard almost half his life, yet each time he heard it, it filled him with a pleasant excitement. But there was no time to dwell on that feeling for long.

The joyful moments were only during the routine. As he finished the final swing of his routine, the once uplifting cheers seemed to fade away, leaving only the batter and the pitcher, almost as if there were only two people present. Perhaps a few more if you counted the third base coach giving signals and the baserunner?

From now on, it was a time of solitude. A time where no one else would be responsible for the outcome but himself. Having stepped into the batter’s box over ten thousand times in his professional career, Woo Gwanhyeong knew this fact all too well. The only one to blame would be himself.

And then, he heard the sound of Park Jeongseop’s pitch. His grip tightened around the bat. It wasn’t a nervous tension entering his hands. The force going into the bat was not from tension but from the perfect amount needed to send the ball far, as he had done countless times before.

“Park Jeongseop versus Woo Gwanhyeong. The first pitch…!”

The ball released from Park Jeongseop’s hand arrived at the mitt in the blink of an eye.

“Strike!”

“A high inside pitch from Park Jeongseop! He gets the strike. The first pitch clocked in at 146 km/h.”

‘A high inside pitch from the first pitch? Missed that one.’

If he had been aiming for it, he could have connected that ball for a powerful hit. But instead, Woo Gwanhyeong watched it go by with a bitter smile. In his prime, he would have reacted to such a pitch by sending it flying over the outfield wall… No, the pitcher wouldn’t have dared to throw such a bold inside pitch as a first pitch.

However, it wasn’t without its benefits. Just from the first pitch, he could gauge what the battery was thinking.

‘They’re going to keep challenging me with fastballs.’

It was a natural story that as one aged, their ability to handle fastballs weakened. Despite setting a record that may never be repeated in the KBA League, Woo Gwanhyeong, like any human, couldn’t defy age.

In that situation, there were two things veteran batters could choose from. Either abandon thoughts of off-speed pitches altogether and focus solely on fastballs, or wait for the off-speed pitch that would eventually come.

“JT’s battery is changing signs. Swing! Another fastball! Woo Gwanhyeong quickly falls behind with two strikes. The scoreboard shows a speed of 148 km/h. Even after throwing over 100 pitches, Park Jeongseop is showing tremendous power.”

“Your swing was a bit late, wasn’t it?”

The choice of Woo Gwan-hyeong was to focus on a quick ball. The result wasn’t great, but Woo Gwan-hyeong knew. This battery wouldn’t throw him a changeup.

“What should I do?”

“Let’s go with a fastball again. My grip is good today.”

“But it’s two strikes?”

“The next batter is Ji Maeng-ho anyway. If Woo Gwan-hyeong can’t overpower him with strength, how will Ji Maeng-ho win?”

“…Okay.”

And as per Woo Gwan-hyeong’s thinking, JT’s battery chose a fastball for the third pitch. While control and grip were important for a pitcher, psychological factors like confidence couldn’t be ignored. JT’s catcher didn’t want to disrupt the pitcher’s rhythm for no reason.

[Park Jeong-seop is getting ready to pitch. And here comes the third pitch!]

And Park Jeong-seop’s third pitch was thrown. A fastball close to 150 km/h headed towards Woo Gwan-hyeong’s body side. And then came Woo Gwan-hyeong’s bat swinging.

Thwack!

“He hits it. This hit goes to left field! Arnaldo is running in!”

Since it was a fast ball close to 150, one could argue that the timing of the bat coming out was slightly late, but instead, Woo Gwan-hyeong’s late swing created a vague hit towards left field. Neither the third baseman, shortstop, nor even the left fielder had a clear position to catch it. The hit was heading towards the foul line.

“My ball! My ball!”

Arnaldo, who had shown a good defensive play earlier today with a sliding catch, ran like a beast to catch the ball. And…

“Arnaldo! He couldn’t catch the ball! The ball rolls behind Arnaldo! Back-up runner Baek Jeong-jin makes it to third base! Woo Gwan-hyeong stops at second base! He doesn’t go to third! Woo Gwan-hyeong stops at first base! Now it’s one out, runners on first and third!”

First plate appearance after returning from injury. It wasn’t a home run cooling the stadium or a timely hit bringing a runner home, but Woo Gwan-hyeong punched the air with a bigger gesture than ever, looking towards the dugout.

It wasn’t flashy, but the away fans who came to Suwon to cheer for AT raised their voices for Woo Gwan-hyeong.

– Woo Gwan-hyeong! Woo Gwan-hyeong! Woo Gwan-hyeong! Woo Gwan-hyeong!

[AT’s heart is back! Woo Gwan-hyeong seizes this opportunity. And the batter following Woo Gwan-hyeong’s determination is none other than this batter. Ji Maeng-ho! The league’s best hitter and the leader with 25 home runs. Player Woo Gwan-hyeong finishes his duty and heads back to the dugout. Pinch runner is Kang Ju-hyun.]

With a satisfied expression, he turned towards the dugout. Although he hadn’t turned the game around or tied it, the reason Woo Gwan-hyeong could make such an expression was simple. He believed in the next batter, Ji Maeng-ho.

The young player he first saw at the training camp had become the league’s best hitter in just a year, solidly guarding the team.

“Maeng-ho, please…”

“Senior, I’m Ji Maeng-ho.”

On his way back to the dugout, when he spoke to the junior player loosening up his body after tossing the bat ring in the on-deck circle, the confident response came back, as always.

“Yeah, you’re Ji Maeng-ho. Hit like Ji Maeng-ho.”

“…Of course. Watch comfortably. Relax.”

Sometimes the junior player who made him flustered with thoughtless words, but on the field, more reliable than anyone else, made Woo Gwan-hyeong chuckle and walk back to the dugout. And there, Manager Lee Soo-hyun was waiting at the front of the dugout.

His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but it seemed like he was praising him with a ‘well done.’ … Just like back in 2002 when they played together on the team, teaching each other various things.

And suddenly, he had that thought.

“Was I a junior like Maeng-ho to Senior Soo-hyun?”

Had he, who had been active as an AT man for ten years before joining the team, been a trustworthy junior like that to Lee Soo-hyun, who had just debuted?

“Probably not, right?”

From the records to leading the team to victory in his debut year, unlike Ji Maeng-ho who did it back then, he felt he was lacking in so many ways at that time.

“If only I had done it like Ji Maeng-ho, Seonbae Soo-hyun could have stayed with the team.”

And if Lee Soo-hyun hadn’t left the team, maybe he could have attended an autumn baseball game at least once before retiring. During his most brilliant days.

But it was a futile thought. In 2002, they didn’t win the championship, and Lee Soo-hyun left the team as if he was driven out.

“…I’m sorry, Seonbae-nim.”

What dispelled such useless thoughts was not the seniors who were filled with useless regrets back then, but the voices of juniors filling the dugout.

“Woo Gwan-hyeong! Woo Gwan-hyeong!”

“Hey old man, what’s up? How do you hit a ball like that?”

“As expected of our senior!”

“Nice!”

“Wow, Hyung, did you regain your form? What kind of hit was that?”

The young man who shed tears of frustration on the threshold of winning in 2002 had now crossed the age of maturity, with no player older than him in the team or even in the league.

…And the team broke free from its long period of darkness to succeed in winning the championship, while Lee Soo-hyun, who had left the team as if chased out, became the legendary coach of AT, leading the team to victory after 30 years.

He was a happy player who received the KS MVP commemorative watch from his proud junior.

Moreover, unlike back then, he didn’t need to solve everything by himself. With many reliable juniors in the team besides Ji Maeng-ho, he was enough to bridge the gap between them.

“Is this the first time you’ve hit a single?”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“I’m Woo Gwan-hyeong. Kids.”

“What? Out of nowhere. Doesn’t suit you.”

“…Hyung, you totally looked like Ji Maeng-ho just now.”

“Wow…. But honestly, when Maeng-ho says it, it doesn’t seem real, but when Seonbae says it, it’s pretty cool.”

“Ah, Maeng-ho is honestly cool. That skill, that confidence. Ah, envious.”

In a bright atmosphere that was hard to believe for a team trailing 2:1, Woo Gwan-hyeong’s jokes added to the feeling of a team that seemed to be winning. And beneath this cheerful atmosphere lay the belief that Ji Maeng-ho standing at bat would resolve this crisis.

And,

[Ji Maeng-ho’s hit! Directly to the fence! Runner Kang Ju-hyun all the way home! He’s coming in! Ji Maeng-ho once again saves the team from crisis! Ji Maeng-ho’s 2 RBI timely double! The score is now 3:2! Bottom of the 8th inning! The AT Thunderz successfully turn around this game!]

In response to his teammates’ trust, Ji Maeng-ho’s hit once again saved the team from crisis. A smile returned to Woo Gwan-hyeong’s lips as he witnessed this.

‘As expected of Ji Maeng-ho…, I can retire without regrets now….’

In the final year of his 4-year contract, there were no more lingering regrets. All that remained was to do his best as he had for the past 20 years.

For the AT Thunderz’s fourth championship.