Chapter 24
24. Some Go Up, Some Go Down
Two days after the first live pitching test.
Corpus Christi Blue Ghosts’ home stadium.
After team practice ended, the Double-A players continued individual work in their own ways.
“Damn. I need facility training and a trainer too.”
“Dream on. Get to Triple-A first.”
“I can barely afford living expenses.”
This was not Korea or Japan, where coaches watched every player closely.
Team training existed, but it lasted barely an hour.
The rest?
Handle it yourself.
At most, teams gave direction based on data.
The player had to use that data to build his body or correct mechanics.
The system valued independence so much that coaches often acted more like assistants.
Fail to adapt, and you got demoted or released.
This freedom in training was one of the hardest things for Korean players to adapt to in America.
The bigger problem was money.
Minor leaguers often had to pay for advanced facilities and private trainers themselves.
Even investing in their own development was difficult.
Among them, one player moved completely differently.
Seo Ji-tae.
While others with little money repeated ordinary weight training and bullpen work, Seo Ji-tae headed toward a restricted area deep inside the stadium.
[Major League Facility Access]
Houston had invested huge money into a pitching lab for advanced data-driven baseball.
This place is different. It’s one of the newest facilities. TrackMan radar is fixed into the ceiling and around the mound, along with dozens of high-speed motion-capture cameras. Seo, under your contract, you can use it whenever you want.
Seo Ji-tae had negotiated the equivalent of an unlimited amusement-park pass.
Inside the empty pitching lab, he stepped onto a special mound with force plates built into the ground.
He threw at a target net as if pitching in a real game.
A large monitor updated his rotational axis, kinetic sequence, and ground reaction force in real time.
Seo Ji-tae wiped away sweat and studied the data.
Then mechanically adjusted the tiny errors in his fingertips.
Yes. This is how it should be. Players grow properly in environments like this.
This was exactly what Seo Ji-tae had wanted.
He alone could freely use it under his contract and train himself.
Meal time was similar.
Players picked up sandwiches from the central table.
The diet was almost the same as Single-A.
The only real difference was pizza.
Seo Ji-tae took one slice.
For Double-A, this isn’t bad.
That was true.
Peanut butter sandwiches remained common even into Triple-A.
Double-A providing pizza meant the team was at least making an effort.
Seo Ji-tae finished one piece and stopped.
He had something else to eat.
“It’s here.”
An insulated meal box arrived at his locker.
When the lid opened, the smell of steak pushed away the peanut butter scent filling the room.
A completely different meal.
No one complained now.
Everyone already understood there had to be a reason the organization cared so much about this sixteen-year-old.
Two days later came the test that would prove it further.
After Seo Ji-tae finished eating and went onto the field, Double-A pitching coach Liam approached.
“Seo. Today is your second pitching test.”
“Fast. Fine with me.”
Liam looked toward the batting cage.
McDowell, the leadoff hitter who had faced Seo Ji-tae two days earlier, was there.
But the relaxed attitude from the first session was gone.
Seo Ji-tae’s eyes sharpened.
The effect of striking out Jerry with overwhelming stuff still remained.
“Hmm.”
McDowell swung seriously and focused on his timing.
“That makes it more fun.”
Seo Ji-tae smiled.
He welcomed the fact that a starting Double-A hitter planned to face him seriously.
He exchanged signs with the catcher.
Then placed an ambidextrous glove on his right hand.
His right leg rose.
The ground reaction force perfected in the pitching lab transferred into his left arm.
Fastball.
Nothing more.
McDowell, who had easily hit Seo Ji-tae’s slower pitch in the first session, made contact again.
Ground ball.
McDowell stared at the bat and clenched his teeth.
The radar gun showed 94 mph, 151 km/h.
Second pitch.
Seo Ji-tae wanted another fastball.
Overpower him.
Confidence and personality combined into the pitch.
This one came even harder.
It attacked high like a high fastball and created an illusion of staying above the bat.
McDowell fell for it and swung.
The catcher caught the pitch, then looked down at his glove.
Even receiving Seo Ji-tae’s ball was difficult.
Seo Ji-tae smiled in satisfaction.
McDowell’s face became stiff.
“No…”
He stared in confusion at the violent trajectory that had passed him.
Liam’s radar gun displayed 97 mph again.
156 km/h.
Seo Ji-tae trusted his fastball.
He changed the grip inside his glove.
Don’t let the hitter become comfortable. Steal timing. That is the heart of pitcher versus hitter.
You could throw only fastballs.
But if the hitter predicted them perfectly, the batting average would rise.
That was why breaking balls existed.
Third pitch.
A power curve with a large arc.
After the fast fastball, the slower power curve ruined McDowell.
“Out!”
After the coaches called the result, Seo Ji-tae bullied the second hitter with three fastballs and struck him out.
Then Jerry stepped into the box.
His face was tense.
After being struck out last time, he looked determined to hit the fastball.
Then something unexpected happened.
Seo Ji-tae removed the ambidextrous glove and placed it on his left hand.
“What is he doing?”
Coach Liam and the Double-A players behind the backstop all froze.
Then someone said it.
“Switch pitcher.”
The coaching staff already knew.
Seo Ji-tae was under special management.
The players were seeing it for the first time.
Their eyes widened.
“He’s pitching right-handed?”
“No way. Stop joking.”
This was Double-A.
Yet the boy was preparing to switch arms.
