Chapter 21
21. Special Management
1.
2.
An international youth baseball tournament was scheduled to be held in South Korea.
The tournament would run from August 30 to September 8.
July 20.
National youth team manager Seo Dong-won sat at his desk, deep in thought.
[Final Selection List for the U18 World Youth Baseball Championship]
, Reserve List: Seo Ji-tae (Reconsider because public opinion is poor. Perhaps remove him completely…)
Seo Ji-tae’s name was there.
Next to it, another coach had written a negative comment.
Seo Ji-tae.
The shocking player who had basically said Korean baseball was a frog inside a well before leaving for America.
Korean baseball fans looked at him like an enemy.
“Single-A…”
He had needed only one game to move from rookie ball to Single-A.
This was not a demotion.
It was a promotion.
And Seo Ji-tae had already conquered Korean high school baseball.
“Hoo.”
Seo Dong-won wondered whether he should at least place him on the reserve list in case someone got injured.
Or whether removing him entirely would be safer.
“His personality is like that, but the talent is attractive.”
Public opinion clearly did not like Seo Ji-tae.
But his skill was tempting.
Most people did not care what he did in the minor leagues.
Baseball insiders also disliked him because of his arrogant attitude.
But is leaving him out really correct?
Seo Dong-won had watched Seo Ji-tae’s games.
His unique style and personality.
His star quality.
His baseball ability.
Managers could not help being drawn toward him.
“Tch.”
After a long internal struggle, Seo Dong-won made his choice.
[45-Man Reserve Roster]
, Seo Ji-tae, Pitcher
He placed Seo Ji-tae on the reserve list.
And that decision would become a brilliant move.
One week passed.
Local residents slowly filled the stands of Whitaker Bank Ballpark, home of the Lexington Swords.
Their opponent was the Asheville Air Force.
It was the second game of a three-game home series.
Home fans noticed an unfamiliar player.
“Who is that?”
“Asian?”
A stranger stood out.
“His name is Ji-tae… Seo?”
Seo Ji-tae’s first Single-A start began.
As he climbed the mound, Lexington teammates leaned against the dugout railing with crossed arms and watched him.
“Now this is the real test.”
“One inning in one game doesn’t prove anything. This isn’t an easy league.”
To them, Seo Ji-tae was still the arrogant young master.
And he did not show the polite, quiet attitude they expected from an Asian player.
“He isn’t even cute. Did you hear what he told the manager? Said not to interfere with him too much.”
“Maybe it’s confidence, maybe it’s arrogance…”
While they judged him, catcher Josh sent a sign.
First start.
Seo Ji-tae’s expression was completely calm.
He put his glove on his left hand.
His body sank deeply toward the ground.
A form becoming rarer and rarer in modern Major League Baseball.
The right-handed submarine delivery activated.
Seo Ji-tae lightly matched his rhythm with Josh.
His teammates mocked him from the dugout.
“What a sneaky little pitching form.”
“For someone eating expensive steak, his form looks pretty ridiculous.”
“Let’s see how great his pitches are. This isn’t the rookie league full of children.”
They watched him with obvious dislike.
They wanted to see whether the organization’s special treatment was really deserved.
“Haaam.”
Seo Ji-tae yawned on the mound.
The noisy hazing and stares never reached him.
A rookie was yawning before his first start.
Seo Ji-tae looked only at the catcher’s mitt.
“Shall we start?”
He sprang upward from the ground and whipped his right arm.
The first pitch flew toward Josh.
At first, it looked ordinary, driving toward the middle of the strike zone.
The Asheville leadoff hitter held the bat lightly and measured the timing.
Then, right before entering the mitt, the baseball violently jumped toward his chest as if fighting gravity.
The bat cut through empty air.
“Strike!”
Velocity appeared on the scoreboard.
[87.7 mph, 141 km/h]
The Lexington dugout became quiet.
“140? But he’s submarine. Isn’t that fast?”
“140 is kind of awkward. I guess it’s fast for a sixteen-year-old.”
From the outside, his teammates saw only an average-looking fastball with ordinary velocity.
Josh, who had caught it himself, knew better.
“Yeah. That’s the kind of pitch you should throw.”
A submarine fastball was different from a normal fastball.
It rose from below in the unique path of an upshoot.
Josh nodded and threw the ball back.
Seo Ji-tae caught it and lowered his body again.
The second pitch headed outside.
The hitter extended the bat.
Then the ball sharply moved out of his vision.
It struck the outer edge of the catcher’s mitt.
“That movement is filthy as hell!”
It was not Josh speaking.
It was the batter cursing after seeing the frisbee slider scrape across the outer edge.
Third pitch.
Behind in the count, the hitter shortened his grip to make contact.
The pitch entered low in the zone.
Upshoot timing.
The hitter swung confidently.
Then the baseball dropped heavily like a stone in front of the plate.
Heavy sinker.
The hitter’s body turned weakly after missing.
Strikeout.
The expressions in the Lexington dugout stiffened.
These were not random kids.
Asheville’s hitters had swung thousands of times in college.
Yet one of them had just been helpless against a low-140s pitch.
“Did you see that?”
“As a hitter, that makes me want to swear too.”
The Lexington players finally saw the movement properly.
Their words disappeared.
Soon, the umpire’s strike and strikeout calls sounded like repeated victory announcements.
As innings passed, the disbelief inside the Lexington dugout disappeared.
From outside, the scoreboard only showed ordinary velocity between 140 and 143 km/h.
But the hitters looked like they were fighting ghosts.
Weak ground balls died inside the infield.
Bad swings cut through empty air.
His teammates were stunned.
“The ball moves that filthy? Is that even legal?”
Getting cursed at by your own teammates was the greatest compliment.
Low velocity did not matter as much because submarine pitching had its own advantages.
Late movement.
Strange trajectory.
Both destroyed hitters’ timing.
The annoying young master with his private steak meals and interpreter no longer existed in their minds.
Now he was a young genius dominating hitters with a right-handed submarine delivery.
Seo Ji-tae was earning their respect.
The atmosphere in the Asheville Air Force dugout grew heavier every inning.
Their hitters were experienced college players who had faced countless pitchers.
Yet they were being completely fooled by the strange trajectories of a sixteen-year-old Asian pitcher.
“Where did this guy even come from? I’ve never heard of him!”
They could not understand it.
The batters actually facing him felt even worse.
The path and timing from the batter’s box were completely different from what people saw outside.
The upshoot came from a release point almost touching the ground.
Every time they swung, it climbed over the top of the bat.
“Damn!”
A hitter turned away angrily after missing.
And Seo Ji-tae had more than an upshoot.
“What kind of damn pitch is that?!”
The frisbee slider carved sharply outside on an almost unhittable path.
There were some left-handed hitters, naturally difficult matchups for right-handed submarine pitchers.
But seeing this movement for the first time still made it almost impossible to hit.
Then there was the heavy sinker dropping toward the top of the foot and destroying timing.
The hitters’ thoughts became completely tangled.
This was live stuff.
Too good for Asheville’s lineup.
Top of the fifth.
Their cleanup hitter entered the box and adjusted his helmet.
He had already been retired twice, once on a swinging strike and once on a ground ball.
Now he was angry.
Despite batting cleanup, he shortened his grip like a leadoff hitter and crowded the plate.
He wanted to hit the breaking balls before they reached full movement.
Seo Ji-tae did not care.
He would simply dominate.
The baseball drove hard toward the hitter’s inside edge.
“Hmm!”
The batter pulled his body back instinctively.
The pitch entered the catcher’s mitt and was called a strike.
“That’s a strike?”
Second pitch.
Frisbee slider running far outside.
The bat cut through empty air.
Two strikes instantly.
“Hoo. This is really annoying.”
The hitter breathed hard and reset.
He had seen the upshoot and the sweeping slider.
There was also the heavy sinker.
His mind could not decide.
He planted his lower body and waited for sinker timing.
Seo Ji-tae’s right arm came upward again.
The baseball headed toward the middle of the zone with a plain-looking path.
This one!
The cleanup hitter’s eyes lit up.
He thought it was a mistake.
He swung with everything he had.
The baseball rose strangely above his bat as if mocking him.
Upshoot.
Straight toward the hitter’s chest.
The bat hit only air.
Three straight swinging strikes.
“How the hell am I supposed to hit this garbage?!”
The cleanup hitter threw his helmet down and cursed as he left.
“Out!”
The umpire remained calm.
The stuff was so disgusting that hitters no longer even wanted to enter the box.
Two outs in the fifth.
Seo Ji-tae’s final pitch created another swing and miss.
Through five innings, not a single hitter had reached first base.
“This is ridiculous. What level is that pitch?”
The Asheville manager spoke for everyone.
Then the Lexington manager slowly walked from the dugout.
“?”
A manager heading straight toward a pitcher who was still perfect?
Both the opposing team and the crowd became confused.
The manager had one thing to say.
“That’s enough, Seo.”
Seo Ji-tae’s pitch count was exactly seventy-five.
Following Houston’s VIP special-management manual, they stopped him below eighty.
“…!”
A breath of relief came from the Asheville dugout.
They did not know why.
They only knew that ridiculous Asian pitcher was finally leaving.
The frozen atmosphere softened.
But even after Seo Ji-tae left, hitters remained affected by his stuff.
“Score some runs!”
With a runner on first and no outs, they still became passive.
Their swings became rushed.
The Asheville lineup remained dizzy from the curse-like effect Seo Ji-tae had left behind.
The game ended in a 4 to 0 Lexington victory.
Asheville’s coaching staff stared at Seo Ji-tae.
“At least there’s one good thing. He won’t stay here long.”
The Asheville manager was correct.
And the opposing coaches were not the only ones who had realized Seo Ji-tae did not belong here.
His own teammates’ eyes had changed too.
