Chapter 84, I Will Never Die
Bottom of the ninth.
Two outs, runners on first and second.
The moment my name appeared on the scoreboard, the stands exploded.
“Choi Seong! Choi Seong! Choi Seong!”
The cheering was almost loud enough to tear my ears apart.
My opponent was Park Tae-jun, the Seoul Triples' closer.
He was the type of pitcher who mixed 154 km/h fastballs with curves to disrupt a hitter's timing.
He had seven saves this season.
He pressed down the brim of his cap with his fingers and studied the catcher's sign for a long time.
I rubbed the white line behind the batter's box with the tip of my shoe.
My center of gravity, my eyes, my breathing.
Once everything was set, the noise faded away.
First pitch, fastball.
I watched it.
The mitt made a loud pop.
Strike.
Second pitch, inside slider.
I barely made contact and sent it foul.
The count was 2-0.
The crowd suddenly fell quiet.
I tightened my left index finger around the bat and raised it.
The curveball traced an arc.
The point where it dropped to knee height...
Right here.
CRACK!
In an instant, the night sky above Sajik seemed to split open.
The ball flew far beyond the left-field wall, tracing a path like a red flame.
A go-ahead three-run home run.
As I passed the third-base coach, the cheering sounded almost like a storm.
“We turned it around!”
Yoon Jae-jun was waiting at home plate with his fist clenched.
“Hey, you're not human, are you?”
My helmet flew from someone's fingertips, rose into the air, and fell again.
My teammates rushed toward me and began hitting me all over my body in celebration.
6-4.
We had taken the lead.
We embraced one another.
The gap over second place was back to one game.
As I moved through the line of high fives, I steadied my breathing.
“Tonight belongs to us.”
The next day, Sajik was buzzing like a beehive again.
The Triples had a different look in their eyes.
Our starter, Wright, had a beautiful and sharp pitching form from the moment he warmed up in the bullpen.
His velocity had increased, and his changeup was breaking beautifully.
“Wright's condition is excellent today.”
Yoon Jae-jun folded two fingers.
“His changeup is better than his slider. Let's use that to handle them.”
Wright allowed only one run through seven innings.
His pitching was almost perfect.
The problem appeared in the eighth, when bullpen pitcher Gu Cheol-min entered.
He walked the first batter.
Then a ground ball that should have produced an out bounced off the third baseman's glove.
We missed another out.
“Hey, calm down!”
Despite the coach's shout, Gu Cheol-min was not in good condition.
The next batter hit an RBI single up the middle.
Tie game.
Another pitching change.
The first pitch from the next reliever, Lee Seong-min, was a ball.
The atmosphere inside the stadium suddenly turned cold.
4-2.
The Triples had taken the lead.
Manager Rodriguez kept his arms crossed.
I pulled down my cap.
“Damn it... That's baseball.”
In the end, we lost to the Seoul Triples 4-3.
We were tied for first again.
Sighs filled the locker room.
We had possessed sole first place, which was worth its weight in gold, only to end up tied again.
Kwon Geon-woo replaced the ice pack on his shoulder.
“We're still first. Let's take sole possession again.”
I spoke briefly.
“We're winning this series, no matter what.”
On the third day, our starting pitcher was Norman.
After struggling in his previous game, he still looked anxious.
He was already unstable from the very first pitch on the mound.
He threw a fastball that sailed completely over the catcher's head.
That was when I realized it.
This game isn't going to be easy.
From the first inning, he allowed walks and stolen bases, and his bunt defense was poor.
His mentality had completely collapsed.
He could have come to me for advice.
The fact that he had not even tried to do that meant...
“Norman, breathe!”
Yoon Jae-jun ran to the mound.
Norman continued struggling with his control in the second and third innings.
Four runs allowed in three innings.
I tightly gripped the metal railing in front of the dugout.
On days like this, our hitters needed to score.
4-0.
The Busan Oceans had completely lost the early momentum.
It was finally time for the Saeum High School trio to do something.
In the fourth, Kwon Geon-woo singled to left.
I pushed the first pitch into right-center for a double.
No outs, runners on second and third.
Yoon Jae-jun stepped into the batter's box and tapped his helmet.
“One run at a time.”
He hit a long sacrifice fly toward deep right field.
4-1.
Daniel Sanchez then hit a line drive on an outside pitch, bringing home two runs.
4-3.
The crowd erupted into cheers.
But Norman collapsed again in the sixth.
A slider left over the middle brushed past the left-field foul pole.
Solo home run.
It was as though his stamina and confidence had both switched off at the same time.
5-3.
For the first time, Manager Rodriguez personally visited the mound.
He had a baseball in his hand.
It meant a pitching change.
Norman covered half his face with his glove as he walked down.
Behind the dugout, the foreign-player interpreter patted him on the back.
“He probably needs to rest for a while and clear his head.”
Nobody blamed Norman.
They simply looked at him with pity because he was naturally so introverted.
If he failed to meet expectations one more time, there was a high chance he would be released.
There were even frequent rumors that local scouts had already been sent to America to find a replacement for Norman.
Either way, another opportunity came in the seventh.
I reached base with a single up the middle and gradually increased my lead at first.
I studied the rhythm of the pitcher's feet.
I also checked the catcher's pop time.
Not now.
Yoon Jae-jun nodded slightly from the batter's box.
He was aiming for an extra-base hit.
First pitch, outside two-seam.
He briefly lowered his waist, then released the tension.
