Chapter 57, Tension
Kim Mu-won.
It had been quite a while since I last saw him.
Seeing how firmly he was still keeping his own batting form, it looked like he had survived the pressure from his coaches.
We aren’t really close enough to exchange greetings.
We had not contacted each other separately after that either.
Judging by the fact that he had now moved up into the top of the batting order, it seemed like he was earning quite a lot of recognition inside the team.
Then again, a batting average in the high .200s was not bad at all for a rookie right now.
If he reached .300, he would become a Rookie of the Year candidate.
I put power into my pitches right from the start.
I threw a four-seam fastball in the 160 km/h range, followed by a high-speed slider.
I thought a little about the third pitch, but I threw it straight down the middle without hesitation.
I needed to establish dominance.
If I lost here, then I lost.
Crack!
Kim Mu-won made contact.
No, he hit it cleanly.
It seemed to be because of that unusual batting form.
By shortening his swing time to the extreme, he pulled the ball perfectly.
Interesting.
Looking closely, he had swung with his eyes closed...
Every player on the Gwangju Jaguars bench suddenly jumped to their feet.
1-0.
I had thrown a no-hitter in my previous start.
But baseball truly was unpredictable.
I never expected Kim Mu-won to hit a home run off me.
Kim Mu-won shouted repeatedly as he rounded the bases.
Honestly, I had to acknowledge him after something like that.
He really worked hard.
He had probably instinctively realized I would throw straight down the middle too.
I quietly applauded him in my heart.
It was still early in the game, and the score was only 1-0.
If we were behind, we could simply catch up.
I calmly retired the remaining hitters and returned to the dugout.
But I could not rest.
I was batting second today, so I immediately had to prepare for offense.
Keeping me permanently in the second spot was definitely effective.
Teams almost never tried to pitch around me or simply walk me anymore.
“Wasn’t that the first home run you’ve ever allowed as a professional?”
Yoon Jae-jun approached me with a worried expression.
He probably thought my mentality might have taken a hit because it was my first time experiencing something like that.
“I think so. But I need days where someone hits me too.”
Baseball was life.
You could never be perfect at every single moment.
If anything, I evaluated Kim Mu-won positively.
He predicted what I would throw, then swung at exactly the right timing.
On top of that, he had even anticipated the rising trajectory unique to my four-seam fastball.
I almost wanted to applaud and praise him instead.
That guy really was different.
“Ball four!”
The important thing was that we also got someone on base with a walk.
Then it was immediately my turn to bat.
Whenever Kwon Geon-woo reached base like this, the opposing pitcher never dared to completely pitch around me.
They knew the third and fourth hitters were no easy opponents either.
“Safe!”
The first pitch was a ball.
At the same time, Kwon Geon-woo attempted a steal and was ruled safe.
Kwon Geon-woo currently led the league in stolen bases.
He had fifteen.
Now he added one more, making it sixteen.
Kwon Geon-woo led in steals, Yoon Jae-jun led in home runs, and I was simply chasing a pitching Triple Crown.
Not bad.
Since all of us had different strengths, we could each show better performances in our own areas.
Crack!
I did not miss the second pitch.
I hit a single through the gap between first and second base.
Kwon Geon-woo quickly rounded from second and came home.
Standing at first base, I removed my elbow guard and other equipment while applauding Kwon Geon-woo.
1-1.
No matter how well Kim Mu-won played, he could not turn an entire game around by himself in this situation.
I would say it again.
Baseball was a team sport.
If you wanted to become a player greater than your entire team, you needed to do the work of five people.
I calmly focused on baserunning.
I had no intention of recklessly stealing bases during my first year.
My baserunning stat was not increasing as quickly as expected, and a small finger injury from a careless slide would only become troublesome.
“Three outs, change!”
Unfortunately, Go Gyeong-tae and Yoon Jae-jun could not reach base and were retired.
I returned to the mound with the score tied.
Then I gave up a hit.
I allowed a walk afterward, but I retired the hitters who followed without any further trouble.
The game was much closer than expected.
The opposing pitcher did not give me a single high pitch, so I only managed to add about one more hit.
The score remained 1-1.
In the fourth inning, the lineup turned over, and Kim Mu-won came to face me again.
His expression was full of confidence.
Come to think of it, that had been Kim Mu-won’s first professional home run.
And he had taken it from me.
Maybe you could call it a moment where our joy and disappointment crossed.
When you played baseball, you would inevitably get hit.
You would strike out.
You would make outs.
You would ground into double plays.
Situations like that would always happen.
If they did not, baseball would not be fun.
163 km/h.
As if telling him to hit it if he could, I fired a powerful four-seam fastball from the very first pitch.
Kim Mu-won watched it and lightly swung his bat, as if trying to regain his feel.
He was probably trying to bring back the sensation from earlier.
164 km/h.
A four-seam fastball tightly attacked the inside edge, and Kim Mu-won instinctively pulled his body away.
Whether you gave up a grand slam or struck someone out on three pitches, there was one thing that mattered most.
Do not repeat the same mistake twice.
I could call the first one a mistake.
This time, I only needed to do things differently.
120 km/h.
I suddenly threw a slow screwball.
Kim Mu-won had no answer.
Three-pitch strikeout.
He sighed and returned to the bench.
There would be no second time.
That was my belief.
I had allowed four hits through five innings, but I did not allow another run.
During that time, I drew one walk and got another hit.
Still, the opposing pitcher was no easy opponent.
“He’s seriously hanging on...”
Yoon Jae-jun muttered in admiration while wiping away his sweat.
The other pitcher had already given up eight hits, but only one run.
Whenever we put runners on base, he somehow escaped through strikeouts or double plays.
Being that strong in crisis situations was a blessing in its own way.
“He’s good.”
