episode_0369

– Whoaaa!!!

– Jung Hwichul! Jung Hwichul! Jung Hwichul!

“Has my advice already made an impact?”

As Jung Hwichul’s hit passed the shortstop, he got on base with a hit from the first inning. It was a lucky hit that just cleared the shortstop’s reach, but without my advice to swing the bat faster, he might have been caught.

“Runner on first, not bad.”

A match against Jang Wooju after a long time. With a slightly excited heart, I step into the batter’s box.

“Hello.”

I greet the umpire and as I look towards the mound, I see Jang Wooju with a slightly tense expression.

“Wooju, it’s been a while. Isn’t it about time you get hit? You’ve been too comfortable all this time.”

Sending me texts to provoke me every time he wins. It was a moment that required some serious education.

“Mr. Rosby, I’ll be counting on you today as well.”

“It’s a fastball.”

The first pitch is a fastball. Well, I had some expectations. He probably knows that it’s meaningless to throw anything other than a fastball against me. He would likely dazzle with changeups thrown outside the zone, ultimately relying on a 100 mph fastball inside for the showdown.

As he finishes his pitching preparation and lifts his leg, it wasn’t a full windup, but still, I prepared fully for his fastball, which is faster than most pitchers.

Thwack!

“Damn, was that too fast?”

With a solid, ringing sensation in my hands, the hit ball curves to the left and disappears towards third base. The bat was too quick. The speed displayed on the scoreboard reads 156 km/h. To calmly pull off such a speed even when other pitchers struggle to reach that velocity with their full effort was impressive.

“…That was close.”

“Huh?”

“Just talking to myself, don’t mind me.”

Thinking ‘This is nothing to me,’ while trying to act cool was quite difficult.

“Curveball.”

“Okay.”

Jang Wooju’s curveball is in the mid-130s. While its movement isn’t exceptional, it was a pitch that managed to fool many batters due to being his only off-speed pitch. Well, being slow also meant it hit a lot of batters. As far as I knew, most batters anticipated this slow curve as his only weapon and stepped into the batter’s box aiming for it.

“If it comes inside the zone, I’ll hit it; otherwise, I’ll let it go.”

With a speed around 130, it was possible to see and hit the pitch if you knew the type, so I waited for his next pitch.

“Ball.”

And the result was a ball. It seemed like he didn’t have the guts to place the curve inside the zone.

“What’s the next pitch?”

“Fastball.”

While the combination of a dropping curve followed by a high fastball was predictable, it was effective. Choosing a fastball after a dropping curve meant he intended to throw it high.

However, I didn’t feel like swinging the bat. Even though I’m hitting around .400 currently, if there was a weakness to exploit, it was my vulnerability to high fastballs. Due to my uppercut swing mechanism, I naturally struggled with high fastballs.

If it were slower pitches, say between 140-150, it wouldn’t matter. I’d consider them easy prey. Moreover, high fastballs near 160 km/h posed a challenge even for pitchers to throw.

But, around 160 km/h, I felt the pressure. While Jang Wooju’s accuracy wasn’t perfect, if his pitch landed correctly, even if I managed to hit it, it would likely result in a high pop-up or a swing-and-miss due to the high risk involved.

Opting for a ball when it’s a ball was beneficial. Even if it entered the strike zone, the likelihood of a proper hit was low, making it advantageous to let it go, especially if it was a high fastball.

“Since there are plenty of counts left, it wouldn’t hurt to skip one… Mr. Rosby, I’ll skip one.”

“Don’t try to slyly ask and peek at where it’s going.”

“Tsk.”

The old man is quick on the uptake. Failing to read Rosby, all that’s left is to trust my instincts.

And just as I anticipated, a high fastball came flying.

“It’s high!”

The ball seems a bit higher than I thought. Rosby told me to clear my mind and swing, but honestly, the satisfaction of being right was more enjoyable than missing a hit, making it hard to clear my mind as Rosby suggested.

Perhaps my self-esteem rose slightly, showing that I could do it without Rosby? Feeling like I had completely drained the battery, I couldn’t stop.

“…Strike!”

“What? Really?”

But such joy didn’t last long. How could I call that a strike when the ball didn’t come anywhere near my head?

“It came in.”

“Son of a b****. Looks like two balls were missed for sure. Couldn’t see it because it was fast? If you’re old, you should be sleeping at home.”

Since complaining to the umpire wouldn’t change anything, I held back my rising anger.

“Seems like he’s lenient because he’s pushing in the league? Damn.”

And to some extent, I was expecting this. Players who are superstars in the league often unintentionally benefit from the umpire’s calls. Hitters known for their good eye might get a ball call even if it’s borderline, and pitchers known for their accuracy might get a strike call even if a ball or two slip away.

Among them, Jang Woo-joo and Na Na were among the players who received lenient umpiring. It’s a bit awkward to say it myself, but they were young stars pushed by the KBA.

“But, even so, this is a bit too much, damn. Missing one is understandable, but this is excessive.”

But no matter how much I fumed, nothing changed, so I quickly suppressed my anger and focused on the pitcher.

“For now, let’s see what you’ve got. Try hitting me.”

“Slider.”

“Okay.”

No need for a ball with a slider. If Jang Woo-joo had the guts to throw a slider inside to me during the Asian Games, he wouldn’t have been as timid as he was then, so his slider was definitely a ball.

“Ball.”

“As expected. Just plain obvious.”

Two balls, two strikes. And the coach’s sign comes into view. First base runner Jung Hwi-chul attempting a solo steal. The timing was quite good. With two balls, two strikes, Jang Woo-joo still had room to worry about the runner since he was still young.

“Curveball.”

The ball being thrown was a perfect curve for stealing. His curveball dropped under the knee just like before,

“Ball!”

“Safe!”

Jung Hwi-chul seized the opportunity and successfully stole second base.

“If he does this, won’t first base be open? Damn. Will he walk me intentionally?”

Suddenly feeling deflated. There’s no need to push for a win from second base with no outs, so he’ll probably walk me… I thought, just then, Jang Woo-joo, standing on the mound, did something strange. He looked at me, suddenly smiled, gripped the ball firmly, and extended his hand towards home plate.

-Whoa!!

-Jang Woo-joo! Jang Woo-joo! Jang Woo-joo!

And the home fans’ name calls rang out.

“He’s going to challenge me with a fastball here? Woo-joo, are you crazy?”

He seems to have lost his mind lately. I feel like he could hit three or four home runs off me… Still, the guy who used to strike out in front of girls has this kind of nerve. I felt somewhat proud that I had clearly educated him.

“Slider.”

“…What? Showing a fastball grip and throwing a slider? Don’t joke around.”

“Then aim for a fastball and swing late on a slow pitch.”

Rossby wouldn’t lie about something like this. Having watched him for about three years based on the number of games played, he rarely pointed out incorrect pitches unless the pitcher suddenly changed their grip.

“Oh, you coward. That’s how it is.”

Understanding why Jang Woo-joo behaved that way, I realized that brushing off what he had confided in me would hurt his pride, but not doing so felt like I would be inviting trouble. It was clear that pretending to throw a fastball and inducing a futile swing was his strategy.

“I’m no fool. Do you think I’d fall for that kind of pitch?”

It was obvious. And I chuckled. If I had the ability to throw 100 miles per hour, I wouldn’t resort to such a shoddy pitch. I just waited, planning to reject it and anticipate his next move.

Then Jang Woo-joo’s leg lifted, followed by the slider he threw. The ball, initially heading towards my body, curved into the strike zone.

“Did that miss by one?”

“Strike!”

“Ah, damn! This isn’t right!”

“What? Damn?”

“No, earlier you let one go, and now this one too. How am I supposed to hit like this? Show some restraint.”

“Show some restraint? You impudent brat.”

“…Damn it.”

“Mang-ho! Hold it in!”

Just before the curses escaped, Gisangju, who had been watching from the on-deck circle, suddenly rushed over and grabbed my shoulder. As much as I wanted to argue with the umpire and the opposing team,

“Uh… I’m sorry.”

“This time, I’ll let it slide.”

…I bowed my head in apology to the umpire. Getting ejected at this point would have been the worst. We were in the midst of a fierce battle with Volcanoes, and although Buffalos were gaining momentum, we were in fourth place. If I were to leave, our chances of beating Jang Woo-joo weren’t very high, so I swallowed the insults building up inside me and returned to the dugout.

“What’s going on? Holding back like that.”

“Sigh… I can’t act solely on impulse.”

There was a lot at stake in today’s game. The team’s victory, the expectations of my teammates and fans, and other factors. While I could address the umpire later, a missed win couldn’t be reclaimed. Honestly, if the game had taken a turn, I would have accepted suspension even if it meant getting thrown out in the first inning.

“You held it in well, Mang-ho.”

“Wow, thought you were going to blow up.”

“Ji Mang-ho, you’ve grown a lot.”

“Oh, seniors. I’m not a rookie anymore. Do you want me to ruin the game with my temper tantrums?”

“Oh, Ji Mang-ho. What’s gotten into you? Why so uptight?”

“…Wasn’t I always like this?”

‘What’s my image like to get this kind of reaction? Making a fuss over nothing.’

‘More importantly, are we going to keep letting that punk look at the umpire?’

‘We need to think about it now.’

Leaving such an insolent brat to keep staring at the umpire would be a loss for the KBA League. This wasn’t about my grievances but a step towards advancing Korean baseball!

“So, what’s the plan?”

“That’s true.”

If it had been the first day of the series, I could have seized the opportunity when the umpire came out to make a call, but unfortunately, it was the second day, so I couldn’t meet him in this series. Praying for that punk to be assigned to our game next time seemed like a stretch, and I wanted to resolve things right away.

“By the way, what’s the umpire’s name? …Han Dong-hyuk? Okay, got it. Ha… Damn. He’s going to show off again because he struck out Jang Woo-joo.”

To support Jang Woo-joo, I needed to hit a home run…. Practice was all that remained. And adjusting the bat angle was essential for revenge against the umpire.

“Mr. Rossby, it seems like it’ll end soon, but let’s practice for now.”

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The cover provided by Novelphia. Thank you, “Ant-Man,” for creating this fantastic cover.